Asher tells himself the shadows in the dying rooms are neurological. Trick of exhausted vision. The brain sparking at the edge of other people’s endings. He is a hospice nurse. He is supposed to be past being afraid of the dark.
He is not past being afraid of this.
Reverie has held the threshold between life and death for five hundred years. He is not a ghost. He is the presence that stands in the last room and makes sure the crossing is clean — unseen, untouched, entirely alone. He has never been seen by the living. Not once. Until a burned-out hospice nurse in a fog-soaked Victorian house at the edge of a coastal bluff turns around and looks directly at him.
Their collision should be impossible. It is. And it is devastating.
Two men hollowed out by proximity to death, finding in each other the only thing that makes it bearable. Asher’s guilt and Reverie’s ancient penance mirror each other with brutal precision. Every touch is a risk. Every moment between them is borrowed.
Gothic atmosphere. Explicit heat. One very haunted house on a cliff, and two men who should not be able to save each other and cannot seem to stop trying.
Contains explicit MM romance, dark themes including death, grief, and guilt, gothic horror-adjacent elements, slow burn heat, and emotionally intense storylines. Adult readers 18+ only. Standalone — no cliffhanger.
