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“How long have I been asleep?” My voice sounds scratchy and only slightly better than before.

“Twenty-three hours.” Wow. I need to get my hands on more of those sedatives.

“He knew me. Said my name.” The sound of it rings in my mind—the total opposite of how it sounds when Damon says it. Just hearing the echo in my thoughts makes bile rise.

A long time goes by before Damon speaks.

“Do you know who it was?” He sounds calm. But even in the dark, I can tell he is anything but that.

I shake my head.

“Have you noticed anything strange? Perhaps an uneasy feeling when you walk to the bookshop or get groceries?”

How does he know about the bookshop? I must have told him at some point.

I shake my head.

But…There is the mystery man who leaves me seeds, pots, and notes.

Could it be him, my stalker?

“But,” I croak, hesitating.

Damon would be angry with me. For not telling him before. What if he thought I was cheating? Not that we were even in an official relationship or anything. But what if he thought badly of me?

“But?” Damon prompts, an edge in his voice.

“But there was a man who was leaving me things.”

Damon leans over to his side table, and the next minute, I feel him gently take my hand before putting a glass in it.

I sip it, expecting to taste sedative water, but instead, it is a soothinghoney drink—sweet and parching a thirst I didn’t know I had.

“If it's too painful to continue, we can discuss this later.” I shake my head in response, and after a couple of seconds, he continues.

“What kind of things did this man leave?”

“It started with handwritten notes with flower references and seeds, then pots with soil.” I sip the honey drink in between. I wanted to talk about this. I wanted to help find The Reaper.

“The ones you wanted the movers to be careful with,” he states, his tone even. Not revealing anything about how my words are making him feel. And with the dark concealing his face, I am clueless.

“Yes. There was even a gift for my birthday.”

“The necklace you are wearing?” he asks just as my hand finds the black gem hanging from it. I should take this off. What if my rapist gave it to me?

I don’t bother unclasping it. I yank on the chain, the pinch at the back of my neck not even making me flinch.

“Yes.” I roll over and place the necklace on the side table before returning to face Damon.

“Then, about two months ago, I started receiving pages from books, with paragraphs highlighted for my attention. These were different from what I had been receiving.”

At the time, they seemed innocent enough. Like the seeds and flower references.

Damon straightens up, the movement slight but noticeable.

“What type of books? Do you still have the pages?” His voice now holds restrained rage. I expected it, but I am surprised that out of all that I have said, it is the book pages that have angered him the most. Perhaps he loves books as much as I do and feels offended by their desecration. I had those same mixed feelings whenever I received a page.

“Yes, but I don't know where the movers would have put them. We will have to ask them. They were in the top drawer in my room.”