It’s the only explanation.
This man—this hauntinglybeautifulman—is drenched in blood and offering meweapons.
No. That’s not quite right.
I thought it was blood. But it’s… it’s… too dark to be blood.
Is that smoke?Black ribbons? Wisps? I can’t define them. But they’re clearly attached to this man, yet my mind can’t seem to comprehend how. Nor can I understand how those ethereal appendages magically created the knife and the sword.
Both items glint in the low light as the beautiful man waits for my reply.
Actually, all three of them are waiting.
And all three of them are ridiculously good-looking, I think, swallowing.Why does that suddenly matter? Since when do I notice looks? Also, why am I in this big guy’s lap? And is he… vibrating?
So many questions.
Too many thoughts.
I touch my throat, wincing at the soreness, and try to swallow. I somehow managed to force out my questions before, but now… now I’m just tired. Confused.Yet oddly not scared.
Actually, I feel safe.
It’s ridiculous. But something about the guy holding me makes me feel protected in a way I can’t explain. Maybe it’s his size? He’s huge. Like, six and a half feet tall. And I’m pretty sure he has wings. At least, he had them before. But not now. They disappeared.
Is he like an angel of death?I wonder.Do I feel safe because I’m dead and he’s my escort to the afterlife?
If that’s true, then why am I still in this weird building?
And why would the figments of death pin my killer up against a wall?
I blink at Timothy. He looks terrified.
The guy holding Timothy, however, seems bored. He’s simply watching me and waiting for a verdict.
On how I want Timothy to die.
Do I want Timothy to die?
I glance at the other dead men, their eyes forever frozen in horror.
Horror at what the hauntingly beautiful man with the smoky wisps did to them.
I swallow.Why do I feel so calm?I wonder.Shouldn’t I be scared? Screaming? Alarmed by what these men—specifically the one with theweapons—can do?
Maybe I hit my head a little too hard when Timothy shoved me up against the wall before.
That would explain my lack of a reaction to these three obviously intimidating men, the fact that one of them apparently knows my name, and also the strange sensations I’m feeling in response to the big guy’svibrating.
The haunting one tilts his head to the side, his silver-blue eyes assessing. “I can demonstrate a few other options, if you like?” he offers, his words making my brow furrow.
Then I realize what he means—weapon options.
Because he’s offered to give me something tokillTimothy.
And I’m back to wondering how I feel about his death. My fingers absently stroke my throat as I consider the man who threatened me.
His words about the Viscount tumble through my mind, his intentions pretty clear.
