"Ahem."
A low, raspy sound cut through the suffocating gloom of the nursery like a rusty blade sliding across glass.
Olivia's breath seized in her throat. Her blood ran instantly to ice. She raised her eyes with agonizing slowness, her knees trembling so violently under her skirts that she could barely keep herself upright.
Standing beside the hand-carved wooden cradle, half-draped in the heavy velvet curtains, was a hooded silhouette. The pale, weak shafts of early morning light refused to touch him, blurring his figure into the surrounding shadows—all except for his eyes.
Even in the deep gloom, those vile, pale yellow eyes burned with a sickening, unholy intensity. They locked onto hers with the familiar, predatory coldness that had haunted her worst nightmares.
