Page 30 of Red Masquerade

A study of sorts appeared from the door, a library, with bookcases reaching the ceiling. The shelves were full, overflowing, but so many of the books hadn’t yet been cut. New novels, seemingly just arrived. The lighting was low. A fire crackled in a huge fireplace across from the door.

And a man stood, waiting.

I froze mid-step.

I hadn’t imagined him. The same man from my first time here, who had seen me across the crowd.

He was dressed impeccably, no robes, but rather a stylish suit. His dark red hair was combed neatly, not a hair out of place. In his hand, he held a glass filled with a red inky liquid that I suspected matched the dried blood on Sinclair’s face.

But his drink of choice was not what stopped me.

It was his face.

The face of a ghost.

All the air was sucked out of my lungs. I forgot all about the monster behind me.

Because the ghost smiled at me, dimpled cheeks sending my heart fluttering—not out of danger, but out of shock—and though his teeth were sharp and pointed like the monsters I’d seen, I couldn’t fathom thathewas standing in front of me.

Alive.

The world tilted on its axis. “How…”

“Hello, my love.” He set down the glass and came to me.

I felt tears prick at my eyes.

“You’re not—You’re supposed—” It all burst forth from me.

I had to be losing it. Thiswasa nightmare.

But when he touched me, it felt so real, so familiar I nearly sobbed.

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m back.”

My knees gave out, but he held me as though I weighed nothing.

Adam Vering, the only man I’d ever fully shared myself with, who’d held me all those years ago, who’d gone away and never came back, had returned, and I’d found him at the center of a den of monsters.

Ten

“You can leave us now,” my lost lover said, waving his hand idly to Sinclair.

A moment later, the doorsnicked shut.

I couldn’t stop looking at him. Couldn’t take my eyes away.

He was here.

Adam hadsurvived.

And we’d all believed he’d died.

But there he was, well and whole, not a blemish to his skin, his face as perfect as he’d been before.

It was a face I’d never forgotten. A face Icouldn’tforget, even if I tried.

Though the bones of his cheeks were even more severe, the darkness to his eyes, there was a preternaturalness to his appearance that was so intense, he couldn’t be anything other than ahallucination.