His Forbidden Obsession

The House That Breathes

CHAPTER 2

The door groaned shut behind me. Looking out the night and with it, my last chance of escape. The air inside was heavy, scented with old wood, smoke, and something faintly metallic, like rust...or blood. Shadows clung to the walls, stretching longer than they should have, curling like living things.

He walked of me without speaking, his footsteps silent against the marble floor. I followed, through every instinct screamed to turn and run. But where would I go? Back to the empty road? Back to darkness?

The hallway seemed endlessly, line with portraits whose eyed followed me no matter how fast I walked. Men and women painted in solemn poses, their face pale, their gazes sharp, as if each one knew exactly what was I doing there and what price I'd pay for it.

You're afraid. "

His voice rolled back to me, low and certain. I hate the way he said it, not as a question, but as a fact carved into stone.

"I'm not ," I lied.

He stopped so suddenly that I nearly collided with him. slowly, he turned, the dim light from the chandelier catching the sharp line of his jaw. His lips Curved, but it wasn't quite a smile.

"Good," He murmured, thought his eyes told me he didn't believe a word.

we climbed a sweeping staircase that split into two directions, each wing stretching into shadow. The house seemed alive, every creak and sigh of the walls like a breath taken too close to my ears. I could almost feel it something vast, something ancient stirring behind the plaster and stone.

Finally,he stopped before a tall wooden door and pushed it open.

"This will be your room," he said." For now."

The "For now " sent another shiver down my spine.

Inside the room was beautiful too beautiful. a canons bed draped in Velvet. A fireplace where embers glowed faintly, as if someone had been waiting for me . Even the vanity held a silver brush, it's bristles still warm, as though a hand had just set it down.

"Rest," he said, his eyes dark pools I couldn't read." you'll need it."

And then he left, shutting the door softly behind him.

For long time, I just stood there, staring at the flickering fire,feeling the weight of the portraits pressing down through the ceiling. The silence of the house wasn't empty it was full. Too full. Every corner breathed. Every shadow reached.

And as I lay in the bed that wasn't mine,in a room prepared long before I ever arranged, I realized the truth I didn't want to admit:

I hadn't been invited here.

I had been expected.