~Alvera
"He looks like he would talk you through it, you know?"
I look sideways at my coworker, pausing my hopeless fumbling through my wallet.
"It?"
Her lips curve as she chews distractedly on her fingernail. "Sex. The good kind too, where—"
"Yeah okay, I get it," I mutter, nearly sending dollar bills scattering from my wallet as I search for my familiar green library card.
Kim walked me a couple hundred metres down the road from work, only entering the library because she caught a glimpse of this town's latest fixation.
Venn.
"Should I go talk to him?" She's not really asking me. She's staring through a gap in the nearest bookshelf, examining the man whose head is bent over a book.
It's not that I don't also fixate on him on the rare occasion he ventures into the town's very small, very dead centre...
I just know by now not to waste my time.
Some things are so pretty they can only be admired, not touched.
"Ah hah!" I snag my library card, waving it in front of Kim's face. She brushes me off irritably.
Muttering under my breath, I tilt my head to join her in looking through the shelves. On the other side, Venn sits at one of the reading tables, doing exactly as the object denotes.
"He's reading..." I break off, my eyes narrowing. "...Wait. What is he reading, exactly?"
"A really cruddy, old book," Kim mumbles.
The book is thick and large, taking up half the table. The pages are crinkled and yellow, and awfully familiar.
"You've got to be kidding me," I growl, shoving away from Kim.
"What?" She throws her hands up. "Alvera? If you walk away I'm leaving. I don't like the smell of this place!"
I swerve through the shelves and toward the librarian's desk. The woman sits there nonchalantly, tapping a dull tipped pencil on the clipboard before her.
She doesn't look up as I skid to a stop at her desk. My suddenly appearance ruffles a few loose strands of her auburn hair, but other than that, she looks entirely unbothered by me.
"I'm afraid you too late," she mutters blandly.
"Too late?" I huff out a breath, adjusting my bag onto my other shoulder. "How is that possible? You said you would have it out at 3."
She looks up, tipping her glasses down her nose a touch so she can pin me with a glare. "And it's 3:30, Alvera."
I glance at the glass box to the right of us. Sure enough it's empty for the first time in years. Decades, even.
"How could he have gotten to it before me?"
"You've been begging me to open that case for weeks. You should gotten here when I said I was opening it."
I narrow my eyes on the woman. She looks a little too pleased with my situation.
"Work ran a little later than I expected," I grit out as she stapples a pile of paper together. Even that one action seems smug. "You could have waited for me."
"The man was there, and he asked." She starts stamping some books, tarnishing the pages with that familiar red mark. "I serve everyone in this town, not just you."
I throw my hands up. "Gah!"
She's clearly going to be no help. I'm going to have to turn my attention to my next target.
Stalking back through the shelves, I peek my head around the corner of one to find the same man reading the same book.
The exact book I want.
I slide closer, giving myself the briefest second to admire him.
Venn. He breezed into town eight months ago and paid the folk around here absolutely no mind. Even the most dutiful of gossips know nothing about him. Only that he lives in a cabin near the very edge of the town, and crosses the border regularly.
Being not much older than me, he's devasting. He's an artist's labour of love, the subject of reverie. He commands attention while also appearing to melt into the shadows with ease.
And I've never spoken a word to him before, which is strange, considering the size of this town.
I glide closer, setting the handle of my tote bag on the corner of a chair opposite to him.
"Hey..." I greet coolly, eyeing the book his fingertips gently brush against.
He looks up at me, causing a breath to become securely lodged in my throat.
"Hi."
For a fleeting moment I forget why I'm even standing in this library to begin with. His eyes are disconcerting. They are a gathering storm above a tumultuous sea. Grey, like slate, like the ashes seated around smouldering embers. Light toward the pupil, captured by a ring of darkness toward the rim of the iris.
Focus, Alvera.
"I'm so sorry, I was just wondering how long you will be reading that for?" I point to the book.
"A while."
"See, the library closes at five, and Ms Lukin told me she wouldn't be opening the case to get that book out again." I point at it again.
He looks down at it, gentle sloping waves of hair falling over his forehead before he raises those remarkable eyes to me again.
"And?"
I shift from foot to foot. "And I've been begging her for weeks to see it. I'm the only reason she opened it in the first place."
I've spent my entire childhood staring at the worn cover of that book through smudged glass. At three centuries old, it's been a 'look and don't' touch chattel in this damn library since I had to tip toe to see it.
"How do you know it wasn't me who convinced her to open it?" He asks bluntly, his deadly calm only making my stomach churn with anxiety.
I blink, flustered. "I...well, no one has persistence like me. See, I've been wearing her down to let me read special books since I was five."
It's not that I have a particular love for reading or anything. It's more so the content of these books that stirs my interest.
I don't like things being kept from me, and it's been our town decree to limit the publics access to firsthand accounts of werewolves from the war.
That is, until I forced Ms Lukin, the librarian, to choose between tearing out her fraying strands of hair or giving me access to this book in particular.
Naturally, she relented.
"What do you want with this book?" Venn asks.
"To read it?"
"Why?" His stare is unrelenting.
I rub my arms, as if to rid of the prickling feeling on my skin from his weighted observation.
"No particular reason."
"If you tell me, I might let you read it now." He tilts his head, the raven coloured lengths of his hair being brushed back by his hand.
"Fine." I straighten the hem of my work uniform shirt. "I'm looking for the Alpha King's estate."
Any soft curve to his mouth immediately drops. I watch his hand subconsciously grip the edge of the book, like he has renewed reason to keep it from my grasp.
"It doesn't exist," he responds tightly.
I sigh. Everyone in my life has told me that, but it must have. I know that werewolves haven't been in this town for three centuries. Since a treaty was signed between them and humans, forcing them to live beyond the border until the treaty expires.
Which is only a year away...
Regardless, an Alpha King once ruled over this territory, his pack. Legend has stated that he lived in a magnificent manor now lost in the sprawling expanse of forest that makes up most of this towns territory.
I've wanted to see it since the legend was first spoken to me.
"It must. He had to live here somewhere, and when the werewolves return, the heir will reclaim the household." I prop my hands on my hips.
Venn shakes his head, rubbing the sharp cut of his jaw. "Even if it does exist, I'm certain it is heavily warded and hidden from human eyes."
"There's no proof of that." I reach out. "But there may be in that book—"
He yanks the book away, my hand pulling back reflexively. I cradle it to my chest cautiously, not expecting him to be so damn possessive.
"There isn't, I assure you." His voice is a husky whisper that would have had me pressing my legs together on any other occasion, were it not for my burning irritation.
What is this guy's deal?
"I'm leaving town next week and this is my one chance to find conclusive evidence that it exists." I can't exactly wander aimlessly into the forest. Most of it is protected government land I can't access...
I won't be breaking the law unless I know for certain where the estate's remains are.
"Why do you want to see it so badly?"
"I don't know, I just do. It's always interested me," I answer drily, trying not to get too worked up.
If he would just slide that book over to me so I can throttle him in the head—
"This book has nothing but first-hand accounts of werewolf behaviour. Nothing on their infrastructure, and nothing on their Alpha King."
He flips a few of the pages, as if that demonstrates anything to me. All it does it loosen centuries old dust that has my nose scrunching up.
Regardless, just because that book doesn't hold exactly what I'm looking for, doesn't mean I'm not still dying to read what has been kept from the general public for so long.
I tug out the chair, sliding into it so I can lean over the table to get a better look.
"Oh, interesting. That makes it over three centuries old, you know. I bet this would be invaluable to the town."
Venn exhales softly through his nose. "It's all propaganda."
Everything in this book is handwritten. The sloping lettering is faded and discoloured, matching the illustrations that are large enough to eat up an entire page.
I tap on the drawing facing Venn. "Look at that horrible beast. Yuck."
It depicts a werewolf in its beast form. It's reared up on its hind-legs, saliva dripping past pointed teeth that are revealed by the horrifying sneer that pulls at its lips. It's claws are long and curved, it's eyes narrowed into slits.
Venn just shakes his head. "None of it is accurate."
"How would you know?" I don't mean for my tone to sound so accusatory, although I suppose it fits.
"Common sense," he responds flatly, entirely unamused by my presence. "Truth is always skewed by the victors in war. Painting the werewolves who once lived here as monstrous creatures kept human support for the war. This mentality still remains."
"That may be true, but there is no other evidence to the contrary." I scowl as he brushes my hair from where it dangles onto the book. "I don't know about you, but all I've ever been taught is that werewolves are vicious, vengeful creatures out for blood."
Venn looks like he's out for blood right now. That piercing stare bores right into my soul, where I keep my biggest insecurities locked safely away.
"How could werewolves be so vicious when they conceded the war to save human lives?" Venn asks.
I frown. For a small war, it waged for a long time. Two years, to be exact. A stalemate occurred after much bloodshed, civilian lives being wasted away. It is at the end of those two years where Venn and I's version of history differs.
"They didn't. Humans did," I state.
He only stares at me through dark lashes, unblinking.
Eventually he huffs out a "hmm."
Werewolves are indigenous to these lands. It was human settlers that waged war against them, forcing the werewolves to fight back. They would go on to lose their land for centuries, until on one fateful day they could return to claim ownership of it once and for all.
Bringing with them the most feared creature ever beheld...the Alpha King.
The original Alpha King who led the war efforts and signed the treaty is long dead. So are many of his bloodline after him.
However, his heir is out there. The one destined to reunite the pack, to bring together bloodlines once forced out into foreign land.
He returns a year from now, which is why half the town will be uprooting their lives to avoid losing them to him.
"Let me get a look at that book then I'll get out of your hair," I promise.
He leans into the chair. "Are you leaving town for good?"
"Yes. I'm moving to the city," I respond tightly. "Partially because of the werewolves returning, and partially because I got a job there."
"Then you don't need to learn anything about the pack that once resided here." He shifts his attention back to the book, effectively dismissing me.
My fingers curl into fists against the surface of the table. I always knew he was standoffish, but I had no idea he was so rude.
"Fine." I paint a saccharine smile on my face. "I'll just read over your shoulder."
I'm behind him before his protests can reach my ears. I lean down, my chin level with his shoulder as I try to get a glimpse of what's on the page.
Damn he smells good. He smells like sandalwood and pine, and faintly like old books, although that may have something to do with our environment.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I concentrate on the title written on the particular page he's viewing.
"What is a mate bond?" I ask lowly, aware that his ear is right near my mouth.
His shoulders tense beneath the black material of his shirt. "Nothing interesting."
He flips the page quickly before I can take in any of the information.
"Hey I was reading that." I lean over him, flipping the page back before plastering a firm hand against it.
I've learnt a lot about werewolves from the other packs that reside here and there. However, I've never heard mention of a 'mate bond.'
"A mate bond refers to an old spiritual ritual undertaken by werewolves," I murmur, squinting to read the faded scrawling.
"I doubt that is relevant to humans."
"Interesting. The author clearly encountered this phenomenon." I point to a specific paragraph. "They speak about a soul connection from one person to another that links them for life. The pair cannot be separated, with the bond held to be sacred due to its connection to the deity they worship..."
"...the Moon Goddess."
"Werewolves determine they are mated to each other by going to — hey!"
Venn slams the book shut before I can completely pull my hand away.
"Enough of that, I think," he mutters.
"Ouch," I hiss. "You got my fingertip."
I draw it up to my mouth, sucking on it as if it might ease away the sting of pain. Bastard.
"If you're leaving, why are you so fascinated by the Alpha King?" He asks, his watchful eyes tracing over my body as I round the table, collapsing back into the opposite seat.
"It's not about him specifically," I say, waving my hand about. "Part of it is that my sister is staying in town, and I'm worried about her."
That's partially true. It feels shameful to admit that the Alpha King fascinates me. So much power delegated to one person, and they are trusted not to abuse it...
"You should encourage her to leave," Venn says.
I roll my eyes. "Trust me, I've tried."
Belle - my very stubborn, very frustrating sister - has made is abundantly clear that she is staying right where she is.
'Damn the werewolves,' she has told me. 'They can suck it.'
A shadow passes over Venn's face, a frosty expression toying with his features. I shiver. He's far too intense to be having such a casual conversation with.
"Does that mean you'll be returning for visits?" He questions.
"If she wants to see me, then she can come to the city herself," I mutter, plucking my water bottle from my tote bag. "I doubt she will, though. We aren't exactly on good terms at the moment."
"Why?"
"It's a long story." I take a few sips of my drink to quell the questioning. "I'm Alvera, by the way."
"I know," Venn murmurs.
I glance down, watching him mindlessly stroke at a faint scar on the top of his hand. It curves up, disappearing beneath the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt.
"You do?"
"This town is painfully small."
"Small, and yet this is the first time we have ever spoken." I raise my brows.
It's not like we haven't been in the same room together. Most notably was when he came into my work on the first day he arrived into town. Since high school ended three years ago, I've worked at the towns administration office.
He wanted a tour. I offered, went to grab my bag and returned to see he had vanished.
Ever since it's been the occasional shared glimpse passing by on the street, or between shop aisles or across a diner floor.
And I really let my gaze linger at times.
"If you don't like a town this small, why be here then?" I ask.
"I have various obligations."
My eyes narrow as his vague choice of words. "I can't help but notice you're not a very open person."
He smirks at that. It's a soft, very slight curve to his full lips. It brightens his eyes a touch, and encourages the barest appearance of a dimple on his left cheek.
Okay. That's not fair.
"Not with people I don't know," he responds.
"Why do you side with the werewolves so much? If the treaty wasn't stopping any werewolves from entering this territory, I would accuse you of being one." I lean back in the chair, folding my arms over my chest.
He shrugs with one shoulder. "I only side with the truth. That's all."
"I'm not as sure about anything as you are about this," I admit, sliding my bottle across the table between my hands, my palms catching each sticker laden side of it.
Any amusement on his face fades as quickly as it came.
"We all have to pick a side," he murmurs.
I open my mouth to respond but I'm stumped.
"Time for the book to go back."
I flinch. Ms Lukin has slunk from the shelves, her hands propped on her hips as she looks between us expectantly.
Venn stands, placing it in her arms.
I lurch up, the back of my chair knocking against the shelf behind me. "No! I didn't get a chance to read it."
I was too busy talking to this strange, werewolf sympathising loner with a dimple and beautiful eyes.
"I'm closing the library early," she retorts, shifting uneasily as she clutches the weight of the massive book to her front. "The mayor is having an important meeting last minute. You two need to make yourselves scarce."
I slap my hand against my face. "Damn my luck."
Ms Lukin totters off, paying me no mind.
"Let me walk you out." Venn offers, gesturing vaguely toward the exit.
I turn to the six foot-god-knows-what man before me, blinking back my surprise.
"Oh, thank you."
I snatch up my tote, shoving my bottle into its depths before we walk in tense silence. We leave behind the scent of binding glue and stale air conditioning as we pass through the massive glass doors of the library.
Dusk has settled over the towns main road, shadows slinking behind and around the buildings, fought off by the yellow light emitting from the few lampposts.
I love the smell of night, joined by the varying scents of autumn. Decaying leaves and sharp bitter breezes accompanied by the ambient sound of the wind rustling through the trees. It reminds me of childhood.
The good parts of childhood, anyway.
"Any favourite places in town?" I ask Venn, desperate to cut through the silence with conversation.
The night licked breeze ruffles his hair. "No."
"Have you tried Roxxie's yet?" We venture down the stone steps and onto the street.
"No." Venn slides his hands into his pockets. The way the shadows play along the sharp lines of his face would look creepy on anyone else. On him it looks ethereal.
The problem with a town so sparsely populated is the quiet. It dwells in every corner, along an utterly dead main street and in buildings closing up for the night.
"Her tacos are insane, and so are the frozen margaritas." I smile at the reminder, even as I feel the tip of my nose turning cold.
"Alright, I suppose I will give it a try."
"Cool." I teeter back and forth on my feet, tugging my car keys from my bag.
"Would you like to join me?" Venn offers quietly.
I turn to face him, withholding the urge to drop my mouth open.
The mysterious, breath-taking town stranger is asking me to dinner? Kim is surely going to key my car in retaliation tomorrow.
"Really?" I shove my keys securely back into my bag. "Sure! I love Roxxie's."
Venn exhales slowly, looking briefly as if he regrets bringing it up, as if he knows better. However, the look is gone in a moment.
"Let's go then."
I fall into step beside him as we wander down the street.
I don't know much, but this night feels full of dark and sinful promises.
🤍••🤍
Hey everyone, thank you so much for deciding the read this story, it means a lot!
If you want to read ahead at any point, you can read this story 10 chapters ahead on Radish and 15 chapters ahead on Inkitt (:
I hope you all enjoy this new story of mine, I've been loving working on this so far! Let me know what you think (:
~Midika 💜🐼