19. VERENA GRAVENHURST
NINETEEN
VERENA GRAVENHURST
The moon hangs full above me, calm and steady, a bewildering contrast to the awful mood I’ve been in since Reed dropped me off at the manor last night.
Sleep refused to claim me, and before I knew it, I found myself here, in the gardens.
My back is pressed against the cool grass, staring up at a midnight sky that has seen countless nights like tonight.
A near-silent shift next to me has my breath hitching, but I don’t need to turn my head to know who’s accompanying me.
It’s quiet tonight, nothing but a soft breeze rustling through the trees, and the soft sway of the willow branches overhead.
I haven’t seen Loxen all week, and his sudden proximity has every atom of my being aware of his presence.
We lay next to each other in silence, each of us refusing to break our wordless truce.
Feeling’s mutual, little crow. His words from the last time we spoke haunt me. I hadn’t meant what I said about disliking him, but it seemed to have stirred something sour inside of him, for him to make such an effort in avoiding me all week.
“I’m sorry.” His voice splits through the silence, and I still. It’s just above a whisper, low and sincere, and it takes me a moment to form coherent thoughts. I didn’t think Loxen Gray knew what an apology was, and by the sound of it, he doesn’t dish them out often.
Lolling my head towards him, the scent of earth, the faint smell of cigarettes and something sweet lingers in the air between us.
He looks on edge and rough, like he hasn’t been sleeping well either.
I don’t speak a word as he rolls his head towards me, his gaze drifting from the stars, and instantly finding my eyes, like a moth to a flame.
My traitorous heart stutters in my chest. Loxen’s cobalt gaze stays fixed on mine, and it’s like the rest of the world has gone quiet.
Like breaking contact would shatter something frangible between us, like an inevitable tide, dragging me into the abyss.
His presence stirs and calms me in the same breath, and it’s maddening.
Loxen’s throat bobs as he studies my face, as if searching for answers.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “for losing my temper the other day.”
A steady stream of heat courses through me, painting my cheeks pink.
Raising my brows, I smirk. “Huh. I didn’t think assholes knew how to apologize.”
Loxen huffs a laugh. “What a relief your sharp tongue didn’t dull in my absence.”
“You’re infuriating,” I say, unable to contain the laugh that escapes me. Loxen’s eyes trace the curve of my lips.
“You’re breathtaking,” he fires back, like it’s the simplest truth he knows, and butterflies swarm in the pit of my stomach. I’m rendered speechless, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He said I’m breathtaking, yet I’m the one struggling to fill my lungs with air.
My smile falters. The reason for my attendance in the garden in the first place ripples through my mind. Soft dimples and warm blonde hair. Reed. I swallow and watch Loxen’s expression shift, as if reading my mind, witnessing me spiral.
“Lox—”
“He doesn’t deserve you,” he grits out, jaw flexing.
“Reed isn’t as bad as you seem to think. He isn’t perfect, but none of us are,” I snap.
“Well, that’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” he digs.
I click my tongue, unamused by his jab. “You don’t see the potential in him that I do.” He’s quiet for a long moment before his voice softens.
“You shouldn’t fall in love with potential, little crow.”
He hoists himself up on his elbow, facing me. Anger, desire, and anger for my desire twists inside of me. Loxen has known me for all of two minutes, and all of a sudden, he thinks he knows what’s best for me? Like, he didn’t disappear on me this entire week?
“Tell me, Lox. Who’s worthy of my love then? You?” I bite under my breath, irritated.
“God, no.” He shakes his head, gaze falling to my lips. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting you.”
He gradually dips his head low, inching towards me, conflicted, like he knows he shouldn’t, but can’t help himself. I suck in a breath as his mouth hovers above mine. He seems calm despite the heaving of his chest, which matches my own.
“I can’t stay away from you.”
My mouth goes dry, and fuck, I’ve never wanted to be kissed more than I do right now.
His hand flexes at his side, then reaches for my cheek.
Time seems to slow, and just as he’s about to brush a loose curl from my cheek, the sound of glass shattering sounds in the distance, and slices clean through our moment.
I jolt upward, my breath catching in my throat. Loxen’s brows hitch together, looking in the direction the noise originated. His eyes darken, a million thoughts seeming to drag him far away from the present. “If I asked you to stay here until I made sure everything was safe, would you?”
“No,” I reply stubbornly.
Loxen nods his head, seeming to already know my answer before asking it. “I didn’t think so.”
His tall frame towers over me as he stares over my head in the direction of the manor. “Just promise me one thing,” he says, returning his eyes to mine.
“What?”
“You’ll stay behind me, and do exactly as I say.”
I nod, pinching my brows together.
“I promise.”
“Lox…” I whisper, at a loss for words. The front door to the manor swings open against the light breeze.
Shards of glass spill into the foyer and onto the outside step.
The small window beside the adjacent doors is shattered, looking as if someone has thrown a small boulder straight through it.
A chill runs through me, unease prickling over my spine, and I run my hands over my arms, feeling like someone’s watching me.
I turn my head slowly to my left, then to my right, straining my eyes through the darkness.
“Shh,” Loxen soothes, holding a finger to his lips as he steps inside the manor. His attempt to be quiet is futile as his boots crunch over the broken glass.
Loxen and I spot the muddy boot prints trailing across the foyer, leading up the stairs at the exact moment a loud bang crashes above us in the left wing.
His eyes widen, and my heart stops dead in my chest. He peers over his shoulder at me.
“Go to your room, and lock the door until I come for you,” he orders, sparing no time for an answer and takes hurried strides towards the stairs.
“Lox!” I whisper-shout, taking a confident step towards him. “I’m not letting you go alone!”
He looks back, already halfway up the stairs, and points at me. “You made a promise, now go.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, ascending the right staircase two steps at a time.
Halfway to my room, I hear another bang, and my legs stop moving.
My heart sinks. Fuck this. If something happens to him, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
Spinning on my heel, I sprint towards the left wing.
When I reach the beginning of the hall, my steps falter, turning into slow, cautious steps.
There’s a shift in the air, like a cool breeze, causing the hair on my arms to stand.
My heart pounds behind my ribs, echoing into my ears, desperate to break free.
I advance down the long hallway, taking a sharp left.
“Loxen?” I call out in a hushed tone, and I’m met with silence.
Shit. Shit. Shit. My grandfather’s office looms in the distance; the sconces flicker next to it, and a glint from something metal on the doorknob catches my attention.
I creep towards it and notice the door is slightly ajar. What the fuck?
A shiny butter knife is jammed in the keyhole, and I trail my finger over the deep gouges in the wood surrounding it.
Swallowing nervously, I push the door open.
The room is completely dark, papers on the top desk are scattered over the floor, and a vicious breeze whips through the room, blowing them across the hardwood.
I scan the room, then pad across the room towards the window.
The wind lashes at my cheeks, whipping my hair around as I stick my head through it, looking down onto the property for Loxen.
A set of thick vines line the outer wall, and when I don’t spot him or the intruder, I slam it shut, securing the lock. Silence settles around me.
“Miss Ren!” a sudden voice calls out, and I nearly scream.
“Jesus, Archie!” I slap a hand to my chest, spinning on my heel. “You have got to stop doing that!”
“Are you alright?” he asks, sucking in quick breaths, his hands squeezed tight around a metal poker.
I realize then that Archie isn’t in his usual attire, but in a set of deep purple silk pyjamas.
I’m too stirred up to tease the old man tonight.
“I-I’m fine,” I tell him, and he nods. “I think someone broke into the manor. I’m sorry, I—”
Archie gasps, visibly shaken by my words. “L-let’s get you to bed, Miss Ren. The staff and I will deal with this. You’re safe now, I promise,” he interrupts, holding a hand out as if politely ordering me to leave the room.
Archie pulls the office door shut behind us, and I glance back over my shoulder, my eyes lingering on the door. Where the hell are you, Loxen?