Page 44 of Tempest Awakening

"Good," Pippa said. "And remember, I'm here for you too. If you ever need to talk or if you want me to go all mama bear on someone, just say the word."

For the first time since the conversation took this turn, I felt a genuine smile spread across my face. "Thanks, Pippa. I really appreciate that."

She winked at me. "That's what friends are for. Now, how about we order some dessert? I hear the chocolate lava cake here is to die for, and I think we both deserve a treat after this heavy conversation."

"Actually," I said, glancing at my half-eaten pancakes, "I think I'll just finish these. They're too good to waste."

Pippa grinned. "Fair enough. We'll get the cake to go then. You can have it as a midnight snack or something.”

???

Thirty minutes later we were done with lunch. I walked through the library's corridors, the smell of chocolate wafting from the take-out box in my hand. My mind was still churning over my conversation with Pippa as I made my way to a less frequented section of the library.

I wanted to grab a book for the oral history project before heading back to my office. As I turned down a dimly lit aisle in the ancient history section, I found myself alone among the towering shelves. The quiet was almost eerie here, far from the library's main areas.

Just as I spotted the book I needed, a cold voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Well, well. If it isn't the human pretending to be a librarian."

I turned to see Valen Beaumont leaning against a bookshelf. Of all the applicants who had given me trouble, Valen was one of the worst—cruel, relentless, and utterly convinced of his superiority. The vampire's presence seemed to suck all the warmth from the air.

"I'm not pretending, Valen," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I am a librarian."

I reminded myself that my job required me to help all applicants, even the difficult ones. It's why I was trying not to make a big deal of the harassment, why I forced myself to remain professional despite the fear and frustration bubbling inside me.

But sometimes, like now, it was hard to remember why I put up with this treatment.

He pushed off from the shelf, moving towards me with predatory grace. "Oh, please. You're nothing more than a temporary amusement. A pet project for Moriyana to show how 'inclusive' the library can be."

I took an involuntary step back, my grip tightening on the cake box. "You're wrong. I earned my place here."

Valen's laugh was cold and cruel. "Earned? What could a mere human possibly offer that countless magical beings couldn't do better?"

With a flick of his wrist, Valen sent a stack of nearby books tumbling to the floor, their ancient pages scattering. The air thickened, and the scent of old magic filled my nostrils. I stood frozen, trapped between the towering shelves and Valen's suffocating presence.

Don't react. Don't give him the satisfaction.

Suddenly, he was right in front of me, his movements a blur. I flinched, pressing myself against the bookshelf, but there was nowhere to go. His face was inches from mine, and for the first time, I saw his fangs—long, sharp, and gleaming with hunger. Shame washed over me, hot and potent, at the fear that twisted in my gut.

"You're trembling," he purred, his voice laced with amusement. "Can you feel it, little one? The power coursing through my veins? I can smell your fear. It's intoxicating."

His words were like venom, seeping into my bones. My heart pounded against my ribs, and a cold sweat prickled my skin. He was toying with me, relishing in my terror, and the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

"I can hear every frantic beat of your heart," he murmured, leaning closer. "Imagine how easily I could silence it forever. Just a small incision, a whisper of pain, and your lifeblood would be mine."

Valen’s words painted a vivid, terrifying picture, and for a horrifying moment, I was entirely at his mercy. He pressed closer, and his eyes—those cold, predatory eyes—seemed to pierce my soul.

Then, just as quickly, Valen leaned back, a cruel smile spreading across his face. He ran a fingertip along my cheek.

"But you're not worth the effort," he said, his voice laced with disgust. “Your blood is…weak. Diluted. No, I’d gain no pleasure from ending you.” His gaze, however, was anything but bored. It drilled into me, cold and calculating. “I’d much rather watch you crawl.”

"Crawl," he commanded, his voice taking on a strange, resonant quality that seemed to vibrate in my very bones—some kind of vampiric compulsion.

Panic flared, hot and bright. I tried to resist, to stand my ground, but my muscles refused to obey. My limbs trembled, my spine bowing to his will. It was like fighting against an invisible tide.

Tears stung my eyes as humiliation burned in my throat. The cardboard takeout box crinkled in my hand as I was forced down.

With agonizing slowness, I sank to my knees, the cold stone floor biting into my skin. My gaze fell on the scattered books, their once-ordered pages now strewn about. I started to crawl towards them, clutching the takeout box in one hand. Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught my eye. It came from further down the aisle, just at the edge of my vision.

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