<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Dark paranormal romance series </span>She heard him before she saw him &mdash; a melody played on piano keys made of bone. Liora ran the last occult shop in a city that had forgotten magic, and he was her best customer. *Rook*. No last name. No heartbeat. He bought grimoires with cash that smelled like grave soil and always asked for &ldquo;something to quiet the dead.&rdquo; &ldquo;You&rsquo;re not human,&rdquo; she said on the night the streetlights died.

&ldquo;No,&rdquo; he agreed, shadows pooling at his feet. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m the thing humans invent to explain the dark.&rdquo; He was a *Nocturne* &mdash; a creature born from unfinished requiems, bound to collect souls who died with music still in them. Her brother&rsquo;s soul was first on his list. &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t have him,&rdquo; Liora snarled, wards flaring gold on her skin. Iron, salt, rowan &mdash; none of it touched him.

&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want him,&rdquo; Rook murmured. He stepped closer, and her candles burned black. &ldquo;I want the song you never finished for him. The one you&rsquo;ve been too afraid to play.&rdquo;

His fingers brushed her throat. Cold. Reverent. &ldquo;Give me the song, Liora, and I&rsquo;ll give you him. Not alive. But *remembered*. Correctly.&rdquo; Damned bargains were her bloodline&rsquo;s curse. So she kissed him instead. It tasted like minor keys and midnight. The wards shattered. The dead sang. And for the first time in a century, the Nocturne missed a note.