Turning back to the bed, she sat on the edge of the mattress and scooped up a stack of loose pages from the nightstand. The sketches were actually quite beautiful. He managed to capture the vibe of whatever scene or face he was drawing with a few well-placed pencil strokes.
She uncovered the next paper in the stack, and her eyes widened.
It was her.
It was so clearly her, she could have paid a professional artist to draw a portrait and not gotten a better result. Her head was half turned, her chin lifted, which gave her a fierce, prideful look, and her eyes were subtly narrowed as if she was suspicious of the world and everyone in it. An accurate portrayal.
He had told her he’d found her because of a vision, but she hadn’t realized he’d seen her face this clearly. A sudden suspicion had her uncovering the next sketch and the next, sifting through the rest of the pile. As expected, they were all of her.
In one drawing, she was glancing over her shoulder, her hair blowing as if she was moving quickly. In another she was reaching back to tuck her hair behind her ear, glancing sidelong at the artist. In the last one in the pile, she was running, and her heart stuttered in her chest when she realized what it was depicting.
She was rushing down a dark alley, brick walls rising on either side of her. She was stooped slightly as she ran, as if chasing something. Beneath her grasping hands was a quill scribbling illegible letters.
It was her own damn dream.
She’d forgotten about that stupid dream until now, but here was a chilling reminder of what her intuition had been trying to tell her. She’d been chasing something she couldn’t read—knowledge,understanding—and it had led her to Murmur. The one who had all the answers she sought. The explanation couldn’t have been more obvious.
This whole experience was starting to feel a lot like destiny.
She shook her head. She needed to get a grip.
Putting the sketches back, she rose from the bed. There was no sign of her clothes anywhere, so she crossed the room to the tall wardrobe and pulled it open. The inside was a mess. Clothing was stuffed into every possible crevice and hung out of drawers that barely closed.
She breathed a laugh. The damned demon was walking chaos.
Opening a random drawer, she found a long, tunic-like shirt. She donned it and laughed again. It was enormous and fell to her knees. The fabric was so thin, she could see her nipples through it, and the cut in the neck was so low on her, she was in danger of falling out of it.
She shrugged. Murmur had seen her naked. There was no need for modesty now.
Exiting the bedroom, she headed toward the library. Forsome reason, her stomach felt fluttery. She supposed it made sense to be nervous to see Murmur after what had happened between them. This was uncharted territory for her.
When she slipped inside, the air was warm and the fire burned bright. Murmur stood by the window with a book in one hand, his head down as he read, hair falling over his face. He wore only a silken black robe, belted at the hips.
Her heart gave a little kick at the sight of him.
Then she shook herself. That was not what this was. They’d had great sex, and she no longer hated him with a burning passion, but that was as far as it was going.
He looked up, sensing her presence, and his lips curved. Setting the book on the desk, he held out a hand. “Come here, witchling.”
She crossed the room and went to him without hesitation.
To her surprise, he scooped her up and rested her against his side like she was a goddamn toddler. She would have been pissed except he held her with a hand on her ass and there was nothing remotely paternal about the way he looked at her.
“I see you helped yourself to my wardrobe,” he said, hooking a claw in the neckline of the loose shirt and taking a shameless peek inside.
She swatted his hand without any real effort. “You stole my clothes.”
His smile was wicked. “I was hoping you’d show up naked.”
“Your bedroom is freezing. And you don’t have any blankets. When was the last time you lit a fire in there?”
His smile dropped. “Never, since I moved here anyway. I try to spend as little time there as possible.”
She took a breath and said with false casualness, “Interesting decor.”
He frowned.
“The walls are … unique.”
