Rainfall had become a rhythm in Eldhollow.
Soft, unending, silver rain that poured from the sky like stories whispered from the heavens. It swept through the region—from the foggy streets of Eldhollow to the treacherous coasts of Greystone Dock and far beyond—painting rooftops and rivers with glistening melancholy.
Today, it cloaked the Ravenshade Manor in curtains of mist and mood.
Julian Ravenshade had taken a rare day off. The Daredevil Lord, usually lost in court affairs or secret investigations, now lounged at home, enjoying the soft tap of rain on the tall windows of his study.
Elowen arrived dripping and half-soaked. Her scarf had surrendered to the downpour and clung to her neck like a wet ribbon. She knocked twice and entered, but instead of the usual cold welcome from Tomas, she was greeted by a warm, smiling figure.
"Ah! You must be Miss Grantham!" the woman said, her voice bright and gravelly. "I'm Jan, housekeeper of this old den. Pleased to meet you."
Elowen blinked. "Mrs. Jan?"
"Just Jan, dear. The 'Mrs.' makes me sound twice as stern." She winked. "Tomas is away handling some estate matters. Come on in, before you drown."
Jan was elderly, clearly half-vampire by the faint gray sheen in her eyes and the way she moved—graceful but grounded. Her hair was braided neatly, and she wore a navy apron over her house gown. Chatty, but comforting.
They chatted briefly as Jan led her through the long, velvet corridors.
"How long have you worked here?" Elowen asked, smiling as she dried her arms.
"Oh, decades, darling. Watched Lord Julian grow from a brooding brat to a brooding man." Jan chuckled. "He reads too much. Studies more than he breathes."
They reached the double doors of the study.
"Brace yourself," Jan teased. "The weather's not the only thing bold today."
And with that, she opened the door.
---
The room smelled of ink, cedar, and storm air. Julian stood near the bookshelves, dressed in nothing more than his white shirt sleeves, the top three buttons undone. The soft fabric clung to his sculpted torso, the lean definition of his chest and waistline on unapologetic display.
Elowen froze in the doorway.
She'd seen male performers shirtless at the theatre, but they were illusions of glamour, stage bravado. This was different.
This was... dangerously real.
She stared longer than she should've. Her eyes traveled—from the open collar down the smooth line of his torso to the taper of his waist.
She didn't realize how long she was lost in that view until—
"Ahem."
Julian's throat-clearing sliced through her thoughts like a dagger dipped in heat.
She jumped. "Good morning, Lord Ravenshade!"
His smirk widened. "Morning, wildflower."
She frowned slightly at the nickname, trying to recover her dignity.
"A flower frowns… how dramatically poetic," he teased.
"I'm not dramatic, Lord Ravenshade," she said quickly, attempting composure.
Outside, the wind howled against the windows. Rain tapped like a hundred tiny messengers. The chill crept in, and Elowen hugged herself, her rain-soaked scarf providing little warmth.
Julian noticed.
"Cold?"
She hesitated.
He was the Devil. Nothing came free from him—not warmth, not words.
He tilted his head. "We could warm you up with a change of clothes… or perhaps you'd prefer something more intimate. A cuddle, maybe?"
Her face flamed.
"I—I'm fine, Lord Ravenshade."
"Hmm," he mused, voice low. "From the way you were stared a moment ago, I'd have assumed you preferred the latter."
She wished the floor would open and swallow her.
"I'm sorry, Lord Ravenshade," she mumbled.
Julian walked a step closer, tone light but precise. "I do enjoy the formalities, Miss Grantham… but we wouldn't want you calling me Lord Ravenshade if I were in bed with you. Warming you up."
Her entire body flushed crimson. She opened her mouth, then promptly shut it.
"I—I wouldn't… want to be in bed… my Lord."
He leaned closer, whispering, "Wouldn't you sit?"
The silence in the room vibrated.
Elowen's heart thudded in her chest like a wild drum.
She glanced around. There was only one chair, beside his. Of course.
"I'll stand."
Julian arched a brow. "Have a seat, Grantham."
"I'll be fine—"
Before she could finish, there was a flash of wind. A moment of dizzying blur.
She blinked.
And she was seated—gently but firmly—on the chair beside his.
He had apparated.
He was back at his desk, casual, unreadable.
She stared at the nearest bookshelf to avoid looking at his sleeves again.
After a beat, Julian called, "Jan?"
The elderly woman reappeared instantly.
"Escort Miss Grantham to wherever she would like to be," Julian said without glancing up.
Jan beamed. "Of course."
---
As they exited, Jan turned to Elowen.
"So, where would you like to go, Miss Grantham? Reading? Rest? Music?"
Elowen smiled sheepishly. "I… I like reading. And singing. And I adore paintings—though I can't paint to save a rabbit's life."
Jan chuckled. "That makes two of us. Come on then, I'll take you to the library. It's a beauty."
They passed several halls, the scent of rain and parchment thick in the air.
Jan finally pushed open a tall set of carved oak doors.
And Elowen gasped.
The Ravenshade Library was otherworldly.
A domed ceiling arched high above, painted with constellations in gold and silver leaf. Shelves reached toward the stars, ladders drifting along enchanted rails. A waterfall of books spilled across three tiers, separated by arched balconies and glass-paneled floors. Candles floated mid-air, humming softly.
At the center stood a circular reading area surrounded by velvet chairs, and at the far wall—an enormous stained-glass window depicting wolves, roses, and moons.
Elowen stepped inside as though entering a dream.
Jan leaned in. "Most staff don't come here. He lets few people touch his collection."
Elowen's heart stirred. A sanctuary like this... it was made for souls like hers.
She turned slowly, eyes wide. "It's… magical."
Jan smiled. "So is he. In his own wicked way."
Elowen wasn't sure if she meant the Lord or the library.
But in her heart, she knew.