Heron Mill Tenebris

HERON MILL TENEBRISTHE BLACKWELL BROTHERSBOOK TWO K.L. TAYLOR-LANE CONTENTS DESCRIPTIONNOTE FROM THE AUTHOR1. Grace2. Grace3. Hunter4. Hunter5. Wolf6. Grace7. Hunter8. Grace9. Grace10. Hunter11. Hunter12. Grace13. Hunter14. Hunter15. Grace16. Grace17. Grace18. Grace19. Hunter20. Grace21. Hunter22. HunterEpilogueEpilogueAFTERWORDCOMING SOONACKNOWLEDGMENTSALSO BY K.L. TAYLOR-LANEFIND K.L. TAYLOR-LANE Copyright © 2023 by K.L. TAYLOR-LANE All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book and its contents are entirely a work of fiction. Any resemblance or similarities to names, characters, organisations, places, events, incidents, or real people is entirely coincidental or used fictitiously. ISBN eBook - 978-1-7392089-2-9 ISBN paperback - 978-1-7392089-3-6 Written by - K. L. Taylor-Lane Cover design by – Leah Maree at Designs by LM. Created with Vellum Mother said I’m strange, I am. I am strange. I am violent. I am wanted. I am not Mother. Heron Mill is our home. A fortress where there’s solace in the shadows, obsession in the darkness and horror in the basement. I found love here. But now there’s a stranger in my house, another inside my head, and something… someone is stalking me through the shadows. I am haunted. I am hunted. I am hurting. I’m losing grip on everything I thought I knew, on myself, on our safety, on him. There are dangers looming that threaten to tear us apart, and I think, just maybe, one of them could be me. This one’s just for me. NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR Please be aware this book contains many dark themes and subjects that may be uncomfortable/unsuitable for some readers. This book contains very heavy themes throughout so please heed the warning and go into this with your eyes wide open. For more detailed information, please see pinned posts on the author’s socials. The characters in this story all deal with trauma and problems differently, the resolutions and methods they use are not always traditional and therefore may not be for everyone. This book must only be read after Heron Mill. However, you do not need to read this book at all to enjoy Heron Mill or the books following. You can skip this one entirely if you so wish. This book is written in British English. Therefore, some spellings, words, grammar and punctuation may be used differently to what you are used to. If you find anything you think is a genuine error, please do not report, instead, please contact the author or one of her team to correct it. Thank you! This book and its contents are entirely a work of fiction. Any resemblance or similarities to names, characters, organisations, places, events, incidents, or real people is entirely coincidental or used fictitiously. *Heron Mill Tenebris is a dark, MF, stepbrother, gothic, horror love story. This is NOT a romance, not in the traditional sense, anyway. Please read with caution, the characters in this book do not and will not conform to society's standards or normalities. This book does have a happy ever after.* Chapter 1Grace Stars twinkle, glittering across a blanket of dark, the night’s sky an endless ocean of black. Full moon, white and bright, beaming its radiant light down onto the thick bed of snow beneath. Illuminated, it glows, no need for any artificial light, it’s as bright as a summer’s day sun, only more beautiful. The light. The darkness. We belong in the dark. Safest in the shadows. Hunter and I. I follow the moon. Toes numb, stocking covered feet frozen as they hammer across the frozen earth, the hard crunch of snow. Blades of grass poking through, whipping at my ankles like razorblades, wetting my legs, soaking into my tights. I race across the open meadow, darting into the trees. The wind throws my hair out behind me, thrashing through the night like golden streamers. My cheeks prickle, the cold needling my skin, assaulting me, stealing the warmth from my flesh, chilling me right down to the bone. But a single thought warms me. He won’t be far behind. That’s not how we play these games. He can’t stand to be away from me for too long. I don’t want him to be. Breath puffing out in harsh clouds before my face, whistling through my teeth. I continue to run, my heartbeat erratic in my ears, lungs burning as they pump air too fast, too harsh. Goosebumps prick, razing across my skin, even beneath my thin tights and knitted dress. Weaving through the bare branched trees, the clear sky making the late January night ever colder, the density of the forest somewhat helping shield me from the full force of the bitter wind. But then I’m pushing out of their protection, breaking through into the clearing beyond. The lake stretched out before me, glistening beneath the bright shine of moonlight, I slow my pace. Its surface still, not rippling like it does in the warmer months, no quiet sounds of it lapping at the pebbled shore. The sandy gravel crunches with snow beneath my feet as I step closer. Little stones digging into the undersides of my feet, sharp against my arches. I tilt my head slightly, breathing slowing, chest still rising and falling rapidly, excitement now, adrenaline. Something new flushing through my veins, zapping through my icy insides like bolts of lightning. I think of the rain then, the nights it batters against our bedroom window, in the farthest bedroom at the top of the house. Our large observatory style window, overlooking the forest, the water pond that used to feed the mill. The thunder and lightning that cracks and flashes whilst Hunter and I listen and watch from our bed. The tips of my toes touch the edge of the ice, my thin tights sticking to the thick covering of the lake. I press a little harder, testing its strength, staring down at the