The Monster at My Feet novel Chapter 22

Closing his eyes, Caspian pressed the damp towel against his lips, inhaling her lingering scent with greedy desperation.

-

Sylvie's mood had inexplicably improved.

Nobody hated looking at a gorgeous man.

She mused that Caspian Graves was, without a doubt, the most stunning man she had ever seen.

It was just a shame his personality was so impossible to read.

She knew exactly how lethal her sweet, innocent smile could be. When she wanted to be, she was universally adored.

But all her usual tricks seemed to bounce right off Caspian.

Did that mean she was supposed to deliver some cliché line like, 'Well played, Mr. Graves. You've caught my attention'?

The thought was so ridiculous she actually let out a small laugh.

As the banquet drew to a close, a few guests went out of their way to greet her, impressed by how gracefully she had handled the earlier chaos.

She kept an eye on the corner where she'd left Caspian, but he never reappeared.

When Sylvie got back to the Lawson estate, she packed away her things.

The dress was gorgeous, but it was too impractical and took up too much space, so it went straight into the back of the closet.

She didn't own much. Her backpack held a sleek combat knife, a few small bags of dried herbs, and a couple of notebooks.

Before washing up for bed, she opened her window.

The translucent powder she had sprinkled on the sill a few days ago was nearly gone. The wind had likely blown it away over time.

There were no signs of forced entry or tampering in her room.

The wild rose she had left by the window, however, was as vibrant and beautiful as ever.

Outside, everything was peaceful and quiet, save for the hum of crickets.

She tilted her head, tuning into the silence, and regretfully confirmed that the intense, burning gaze of her stalker had completely vanished.

She even started to wonder if she had imagined it. Maybe the watcher had been focused on the creep who harassed her, not her.

What a shame. If she ever met her stalker, she felt like they might actually have a lot in common.

She brushed her hair with rhythmic strokes before getting into bed.

Lying there, she flipped through a notebook filled with ciphered notes only she could read, her mind drifting.

Her thoughts wandered back to that remote village.

She remembered kissing Shepherd's ring, bidding him farewell.

Today had been wonderful.

The slow-acting hallucinogens she had slipped Lawrence and Helena hadn't worn off yet.

They were probably having another incredibly loud, chaotic night in the master bedroom.

Sylvie drifted into a deep sleep.

In the villa next door.

An empty, dimly lit room painted in sterile gray tones.

The house had just been purchased and felt entirely devoid of life. The bedroom held nothing but a single mattress.

A dark figure stood by the heavy blackout curtains. His pale fingers trembled slightly as he gripped the fabric, standing there for a long time.

Through a small gap, he watched the lights go out in the tiny bedroom next door.

Only then did Caspian pull the curtains open.

Staring at her window, his fingertips burned with an agonizing ache, yet a sick sense of euphoria washed over him.

He watched the moonlight spill into her room, illuminating the wild rose sitting in the vase.

The fresh rose he had just swapped in, its petals vibrant and perfect.