The morning after Guilermo marked my neck, the world didn't end. But it certainly felt like the axis of the earth had shifted a few degrees to the left, throwing everything I knew off balance.
I woke up alone.
The bed was vast and cold on the left side. I reached out instinctively, my hand seeking the solid warmth of his chest, the rough texture of his skin, but I found only crumpled sheets that still held his shape.
The room was dim, the heavy velvet curtains holding back the weak morning light. I sat up, pulling the bear fur blanket up to my chin. The silence in the guest wing was heavy, thick with the kind of quiet that feels like a held breath.
On the bedside table, anchored by his heavy wristwatch, was a note torn from a piece of Coven stationery.
Stay inside. Lock the door. I’m
