Page 51 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

SILKEN STALKER

GRAVES

F rom the shadows of the highest parts of the dark library, a black raven perched on a towering shelf, keen blue eyes watching below, trained on the white-haired, moonlit beauty who navigated the shelves with ease.

The raven cocked his head. A familiar male strode behind her as they ventured into the deep corners filled with old secrets. And they were led by a dainty, winged creature, green leaves fluttering in her wake.

A strange trio , the raven mused.

But even stranger, the determination marked onto the moonlit beauty’s face, the way she scoured the many tomes laid open before her, hair obscuring her face as she searched their contents with ferocity.

The male behind her leaned against a mossy shelf as he twirled a sharp silver blade in his fingers.

The raven’s eyes tracked the movement, arrested by the shine of the silver amid the darkness—a color contrast that was like the beauty’s hair against her dark cloak and the dark hollows of the shelves around her.

The raven watched… and watched. He so loved to watch her, following her around the halls of the castle, perched on her balcony, and even standing over her as she slept, shrouded in shadows as he loomed over her.

He watched it all, obsessed with every rise and fall of her chest and the way her breaths puffed from si nful, pink lips.

With a small cry that carried up to him on the wind, nearly drowned out by the rain, the beauty raised a book in the air, biting her lip as she held it to the male by her side.

And their words made the raven let out the lowest of caws.

Time to find some silk, then.