Page 13 of Soul to Possess (The Artmaker Trilogy #1)

The knock shattered something I hadn’t realized I’d been holding still. I’d figured the bus wouldn’t be able to make it out here today with the blizzard and all. I’d given up my preparations, fully prepared to have to have a word with Harry and find out when he could figure out another plan.

I stood in the center of my living room, half-dressed, heart a little too steady.

I’d spent weeks— months —fine-tuning every invisible string.

After I’d heard about the blizzard I’d planned for two more days.

Forty-six more hours. Enough time to bleach the floor joists in the basement, dispose of the sculpture that wouldn't dry right, clear out the blood shadows on the porch.

But then she knocked. I didn’t move. Not at first. Not until the second knock came—sharper, less polite.

That was the moment I knew Harry had followed through.

He brought me someone. But I hadn’t expected her.

Not a name I recognized. Not a face I’d studied.

Just… her. Unvetted. Uncurated. Wild. Blue lips, ruined shoes, hair whipped up like a storm cloud had dragged her here by the scalp.

And those eyes. Startled, yes. But not empty.

No, there was something moving behind them—like a question trying to form teeth.

I opened the door and said the first thing that came to mind, cold and jagged, “Exactly what in the damn hell is a woman doing standing on my goddamn porch in the middle of the night?” The words weren’t shock.

They were control. I needed the upper hand, needed her to feel disoriented. I was disoriented.

She didn’t answer. Not right away. And that silence…

it unspooled something in me I hadn’t planned for.

Curiosity. Hunger. Not the kind I was used to—no, this was different.

She wasn’t a victim. She wasn’t screaming or sobbing or pleading.

She was confused. Searching. I slammed the door—not to end it. To reset the tone.

Let her knock again. Let her fight back. When she called me Marvin, I almost smiled. Not because it was funny. But because it meant she had no idea where she was. No idea who I was. She’d been left here by a man she trusted to get her safely to her future. And I was not her future. Not yet.

She gave me a name. Marvin. That told me everything I needed. She thought this place was meant for her. And somehow, some broken part of her wanted this place. This life. This isolation. I gave her the devil’s choice. She chose me. Didn’t know it—but she did.

And I wasn’t ready for that. Not really.

But when she stepped inside, and the wind caught her scent—snow and warmth and fear—I knew one thing for certain: Harry had brought me a gift I didn’t deserve.

And I would never let it go. Not because I was grateful.

Because I was starving. And she was mine .