Infernal Teasing

Chapter One

The revolving door spun with a soft, mechanical whisper as the young man stepped into its glass embrace. Blond hair fell in a careless mop across his forehead, strands catching the afternoon light and half-veiling his eyes. He pushed through the last panel and was met by a rush of cool, conditioned air that washed over his skin like a welcome sigh. Outside, the summer heat had clung to him; in here, the air was crisp and faintly scented with polished stone, distant spices, and the clean ozone of climate control.

He paused just inside the threshold, letting the chill settle into his clothes. The atrium stretched wide and high above him, a cathedral of glass and pale concrete built for creatures far larger—and far stranger—than ordinary humans. On a Sunday afternoon the place lived up to its quiet reputation. A cluster of elves lounged in a sunken seating area near the central fountain, their long limbs draped over low couches while smaller fae drifted among them like living jewelry, wings catching the light. Across the open floor, the food court thrummed with deeper voices and the clatter of heavy trays: orcs and goblins filled most of the tables, laughter rolling out in low, gravelly waves. Humans were scarce enough to count on one hand. That was the point.

Oskar had found the place months ago, buried in a late-night forum thread about "multispecies retail that doesn't feel like a tourist trap." The mall sat across the river in a town most people never bothered to visit, advertised openly as a haven for every kind of folk the world had to offer. Lucky for him. The scarcity of his own kind meant anonymity. No one recognized him. No one asked questions.

He could simply exist.

He moved with the easy purpose of habit—straight to the escalators, then a quick detour to the coffee kiosk for an iced drink that left condensation cold against his palm. The library waited on the third floor, tucked behind frosted-glass doors that always smelled faintly of paper and quiet magic.

He stepped inside and stopped.

His usual table—back corner, half-hidden by a tall shelf of oversized bestiaries—was already occupied. A small lavender-skinned tiefling sat on the far side, face buried in an open book. Dark hair curled softly at the edges of her face; the rest of her was lost beneath a loose, white mass of fabric that looked almost like a draped sheet or an oversized sweater. She hadn't looked up. The soft scrape of a page turning was the only sound she made.

Oskar collected the stack of comics he always reached for—Fae Tales, volumes three through seven—and took the empty chair across from her. The wooden seat creaked softly. She didn't glance up. Whether she hadn't noticed or simply didn't care, he couldn't tell. Time stretched. Pages turned. The two of them shared the same small pocket of silence, content in their separate worlds.

Then the air changed.

A sudden bloom of smoke and cinnamon filled his lungs—warm, sharp, intimate. Before he could register the movement, she was there, leaning into his personal space with startling closeness. The comic in his hands jerked upward like a shield.

"Whoa!"

Amber eyes locked onto his, bright and curious, carrying something deeper beneath the surface that he couldn't quite name, "Fae Tales... I've heard mixed stuff about it, is it any good?"

He lowered the comic slowly. "Yeah... it's got some issues with the 'Power of Friendship' trope," he said, voice steadier than he felt, "but good nonetheless."

She plucked one of the volumes from the small pile beside him and flipped through the pages with casual interest. A soft, appreciative sound escaped her. "Art's nice... damn. She's got some fat titties."

Oskar's gaze flicked, unbidden, to the illuminated curves on the page. The artist's fondness for generous anatomy was impossible to miss; the soft glow of the printed ink made the forms almost hypnotic. "The author likes his boobs," he admitted.