Phantom (Tattered Curtain, #1)

by Greer Rivers

“You’re my pretty little muse, Scarlett. I worship your voice. Your body, mind, and soul are no different.” “Even the darkness in my mind?” I ask, not sure why it matters if my phantom accepts my madness. “Especially your darkness.”

His gaze is different than the one Sol Bordeaux gave me at Masque last night and the one I imagined in my drug-induced dream. Sol’s intensity made my core throb, my breath freeze in my chest, and need overwhelm my skin in an explosion of goose bumps. Rand’s feels… odd? I can’t quite explain it. It’s not unwelcome I guess, but it’s certainly not giving me the same intoxicating desire that I felt last night. His elbows are propped on the wobbly white table, and his chin rests on thick, interlaced fingers. I study them, remembering featherlight touches by a completely different set of fingers from my dream, long and powerful⁠—

Let the music free you from the darkness in your mind.”

know better than most that masquerading your own problems with humor is an easy coping mechanism,