WITCH - ARA

Four

I was scrolling through my phone in the corner behind some shelves, trying to avoid getting caught using it at work. I chuckled softly at a cute cat video. I love cats, though I've never had one; maybe someday.

Suddenly, I heard Mitchell's voice calling me. I quickly tried to slide my phone into my jean pocket, only to remember I wasn't wearing jeans today. Instead, I was in a short light blue dotted cotton frock because Silas said it would be more "comfortable." Sighing, I decided to put my phone in my bag and headed to the counter.

Mitchell was there as usual, probably texting her boyfriend under the table. My attention shifted to a man standing in front of the counter. He wore a tight black t-shirt that showcased his muscles, black pants, and a silver cross hanging on his chest. He was really tall—probably around 6'5" compared to my 5'8". He had a clean cut on the sides of his hair.

I approached the counter, and his gaze shifted to me. Our eyes locked for a moment before I looked away and focused on Mitchell.

"Did you call me?" I asked, putting my phone into my bag and returning to the counter.

"Yes, I did. Can you help this man find the book he's looking for?" Mitchell asked. I glanced back at the man, who didn't seem to have even tried looking for the book himself.

"Sure, sir. What book are you looking for?" I asked. He stayed quiet for a moment, as if deciding whether to respond, then spoke. His deep voice seemed to rumble through the room. Am I being dramatic?

"I'm looking for 'The Witching Hour' by Anne Rice."

Ah, horror. I nodded. "This way, sir."

As I led him to the horror section, he suddenly said, "Didn't anyone tell you it is forbidden to use phones in a library?"

I stopped in my tracks. How did he know? Gripping the hem of my frock, I turned to him.

"Well, sir, I don't know how the hell you knew I was using my phone, but I'm saying this kindly to you—my job isn't your business." I smiled sweetly before turning away and continuing to walk. He didn't say another word. Good.

Reaching the horror section, I tried to recall where I had placed the book, hands on my hips as I faced the shelves. Suddenly, I remembered and turned to him, pointing upwards.

"It's over there, sir."

"Yeah, so? Take it and give it to me." Who does he think he is? I sighed, grabbed a ladder, and positioned it in front of the shelf.

"Wait," I said before starting to climb. I cursed the guy inside my head, hoping he'd break his nose just like the old man.

As I reached for the book, my fingers barely grazing the spine, a chill ran down my spine. My eyes darted to the space between the shelves, and my heart stopped. There, staring back at me, was the same black figure with burning red eyes. The eyes were like fiery pits, piercing through the dimly lit library, boring into my soul. The shadows around it seemed to twist and writhe, as if alive, amplifying its terrifying presence. The figure’s gaze was unwavering, unblinking, filled with an otherworldly malice.

A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt an icy grip of fear squeezing my chest. The air around me seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe. I couldn't move, couldn't tear my eyes away from those burning red orbs. They seemed to grow larger, closer, consuming my vision until everything else faded into darkness.

Suddenly, my foot slipped. The ladder wobbled violently beneath me, and I felt myself plummeting through the air. The world around me spun in a nauseating blur. Time seemed to slow down as I descended, the ground rushing up to meet me. The last thing I saw before my eyes squeezed shut was the figure’s eyes, burning brighter and closer than ever, as if it was reaching out to drag me into the abyss.

Just when I thought I'd crash into the floor, strong arms caught me in mid-air. The impact of the fall dissipated as I collided with a solid, muscular chest. I looked up, my breath hitching, to meet the piercing blue eyes of the man from the counter. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of lingering fear.

His grip was firm, his hands large and warm against my back. He held me close, too close, his body radiating heat. My eyes, still wide with fear, locked onto his as a smirk played at the corners of his lips. His face was just inches from mine, and I could feel his breath, warm and teasing, against my skin.

He lowered his head slowly, deliberately, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. The sensation sent a jolt through me, and I tensed in his arms. His voice, low and husky, vibrated against my earlobe as he whispered, "Cursing me won't work, sweetheart."

The words, the way he said them, sent a shiver down my spine. His tone was filled with a dangerous mix of amusement and something darker, something that made my pulse quicken. His breath lingered on my skin, and I couldn't help but feel a strange, unsettling pull toward him. The intensity of the moment hung in the air, thick and electrifying, leaving me breathless and on edge.

I was at a loss for words, swallowing hard. Then, I felt his teeth graze my earlobe, a sensation that sent a wave of unexpected pleasure through me. My body betrayed me, responding to his touch in a way that left me both confused and wanting more. I realized what was happening, the tension between us electric and undeniable.

Just when I thought he'd take this to another level, he set me down, my feet touching the ground. I looked at him as he moved back, giving me some space.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He smirked a little before turning to climb the ladder himself without responding to me. He took the book he asked for, came back down, and started to head to the counter. I stood frozen in my spot, then hurried to follow him. He handed the book to Mitchell, renting it for a few days. He didn't even look at me—hello?

He took the receipt and book from Mitchell and began to walk out. I stood there, staring at the spot where he had been. Someone cleared their throat, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turned to see Mitchell.

"Why do you look like you've been slapped by a ghost?" she asked.

I gulped. I really did look worse than that right now. Who was this man?

I shook my head. "Nothing."