Love Me in Shadows (Behind the Mask, #1)
It seemed so innocent at first. I don't know, maybe I should have told someone, but they were just letters. I got so I looked forward to them. I started to depend on them. Until, when he finally asked to meet me, I felt as if I already knew him.

But I didn't.

I wanted him. It didn't matter that I didn't know his name. It didn't matter that he always hid his face from me. He had his secrets, but then again, I had my own. But some secrets are more dangerous than others, and soon I found myself sinking into a dark world I knew nothing about.

I thought I understood the consequences. I thought I could face anything with him by my side.

I was wrong.

Genres: New Adult, Erotic Romance. Length: 70,000 words. Series: Yes. Cliffhanger: Yes.

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Chapter 1 (Excerpt)

It comes in a black envelope tied with a silk black bow. My hand shakes as it slides over the artisan paper. I’m not used to experiencing such elegance outside of music. It makes me uncomfortable, like a little girl who sees a diamond for the first time and instinctively senses its worth.

Every morning a letter waits for me, tucked inside the metal mailbox in the entry of my aging brick dorm. The first time I received a letter, I thought it was for someone else. I’d taken it to the forty-something lady working at the front desk. Reluctantly, she’d opened the unmarked envelope and scanned the first line. “Are you Laura?” she’d asked.

My heartbeat quickened. “Yes.”

She groaned as she leaned over the desk, handing it back. “It’s for you.”

“Oh.” Even before I read it, it felt like a priceless treasure—and after I did, I knew my life would never be the same again.

I press today’s letter to my stomach. My wool sweater scratches my wrist. I walk faster, glancing over my shoulder as if someone were watching.

Maybe someone is. Maybe it’s him.

I don’t stop until I’m near the tree at the edge of the park. Students ride bicycles and leaves tremble in the afternoon breeze. Everything is normal. Still, my heart won’t stop racing. I glance around again, some foolish part of me expecting him, but he isn’t there. He never is. I’m alone save for a few bikers, and none of them linger in the park. Who would when it’s this early and so cold?

When I’m certain I’m alone, I open the envelope. Today it’s short. I know this because usually ink bleeds through every inch of the back of the page. That can’t be a good sign. My hands shake as I unfold the letter.
It’s a single sentence: Meet me at the Orpheus fountain today at 4pm.

A chill rushes down my spine as if he’d just whispered the command over my skin. He’s never asked me to be anywhere before. I glance over my shoulder again but no one is there, only shadows.
I read the line again. And again.

Someone might see you, Laura. Put it away.

I don’t follow my internal command right away. I read it once more and run my finger over the simple sentence, marveling at the power it has over me.

I haven’t told anyone else about the letters. I mean, I’ve been getting them for…far longer than I liked to admit. I don’t know how I’d begin to explain this mutual, sick obsession, or what my friends would say. Well, actually I had a pretty good idea of what they’d say—that I’d gone insane, that I needed help, that I shouldn’t encourage this kind of behavior, that he could be a psycho killer. But I think the thing that would scare them the most was that I needed receiving these letters more than he needed to write them.

I don’t know if that last part is actually true, but it sure feels like it.

I slip the letter in my inside pocket and walk quickly even though my next class doesn’t start for another twenty minutes. I go around the old brick building twice, then linger near the bulletin boards near the entrance. The Chords have a recital next Tuesday. A few people are offering their services for babysitting, but most of us are offering piano lessons, flute lessons, trombone lessons, and…well, you get the point. All of us are over-skilled at things no one has any use for.

Some students from my class walk through the door. As I smile, I unconsciously slip my hand inside my jacket until it finds the letter.

It’s still there. Still secret. For another day, at least, no one knows.

The truth is, I don’t care if this is wrong. I don’t care if no one else understands. I’m addicted to his words. I live for them.

And I don’t want this obsession to end.