Читать книгу Keeper of the Dawn - Heather Graham, Heather Graham - Страница 2

His bride.

She lay upon the altar. Her face was alabaster, and her hair was gold, flowing behind her, beneath her, and falling in curls from the altar where she lay as if on a white pedestal at a wake.

Her eyes were closed, and she lay in beauty, as if she were sleeping.

But she wasn’t asleep.

A red ribbon seemed to adorn her neck, but it wasn’t a fashion accessory.

And it wasn’t a ribbon.

It was a line of blood. Blood that streamed from her throat to the floor.

He screamed, but his scream was silent, no matter how hard he tried to make it into sound. He fought the mist and shadow mire that held him down as he tried to run to her, but he couldn’t reach her…

“Mark!” The sound of his name was like an off button for the scene unfolding in his mind.