Chapter 15 The Bite is Back
THE BITE IS BACK
JAMIE
I stroll into the office like it’s any other Thursday.
The big meeting is tomorrow. Well, they’ve all been big.
But tomorrow is the big, big meeting. The official Community Outreach Initiative Campaign pitch for the city.
Magnus and I have spent the last few weeks crafting something spectacular—something that’ll make Crownpoint sit up and pay attention.
My stomach flips in a way that has nothing to do with the double espresso I had this morning.
“Careful, Jamie.”
The voice is low, gravelly, and far too close. I nearly trip as Jack materializes from the shadows near reception. His wings catch the fluorescent light, dull gray-brown with flecks that shimmer like ash.
“Morning to you too,” I mutter, trying to steady my pulse.
Jack tilts his head, antennae twitching, unblinking eyes fixed on me. “Old storms circle back.” His words land heavy, like stones dropped in a pond. “Best keep your guard up.”
A chill spiders up my spine despite the warmth of the lobby. I force a thin smile. “I’ll… keep that in mind.”
He nods once, already turning, gaze drifting toward the ceiling as if he can see through floors and walls. Then he’s gone, folding into the current of the office like smoke fading into air.
Jack’s warnings are always cryptic, but this one clings, making the flip in my stomach feel a lot more like dread. I tighten my grip on my bag and head for my office.
Except when I open the door to my office, I’m slapped in the face with the harsh reality that this is indeed not my office.
The blinds are drawn tight, shutting out the morning sun. The only light comes from a scatter of table lamps casting pools of gold across the room. Shadows stretch long over the carpet, pulling the corners into darkness.
She’s back.
Vanessa sits behind the desk like a queen reclaiming her throne—poised, elegant, and utterly at ease.
Technically, this is her office, but the way she inhabits the space makes it feel less like a place of business and more like a lair.
One pale hand rests on the arm of the chair, nails painted a sharp, glinting red that matches the curl of her lips.
Her eyes find mine instantly, sharp and bright, catching what little light dares to enter the room.
“Jamie, darling,” she purrs. “It’s good to be back.”
The air feels heavier, cooler, as if her presence alone pulls the warmth from the room.
I knew she’d be back soon. Just not this soon.
“So, early bird? Or just trying to impress a certain someone?”
“Uh… reviewing notes,” I say, trying to sound professional. “Making sure everything’s ready for the pitch tomorrow.”
“Oh, of course,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “Our new junior strategist, so thorough.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“You really thought I wouldn’t notice you sliding onto Magnus’s project roster? You know, the one I still have full access to. Or those late-night calendar invites he only sends you?”
Again, I open my mouth, to silence. I’m like a fish gasping for air.
“You’re my assistant, darling. I have full access to your calendar.”
Her lips curve into a knowing smile, sharp new teeth flashing.
“And I don’t need office gossip when I’ve got a sixth sense for these things.
” She lifts an index finger and polishes one fang like she’s buffing a diamond.
“Besides, you left breadcrumbs everywhere. Even a Glawackus could’ve pieced it together. ”
Poor Gladys in the mailroom—the only Glawackus in the company—would never. She can’t see a thing, but she’s sharper than a tack.
I choke back a laugh. “I was just following your directions. Working hard. Totally focused.”
“Sure you were,” she says, smirking. “Though I did notice your notes on those slides. Impressive for… a mailroom lackey moved up to admin assistant.”
“I, uh—helped polish them. That’s all.” I bite my lip.
“Jamie, you make being helpful look very… distracting.” She leans forward, tapping a perfectly manicured finger on my notebook. “I mean, look at these notes. Kind of cute for someone with no real… experience. Very convincing.”
I groan softly, wishing a trapdoor would open beneath me and swallow me whole. With Vanessa, it’s entirely possible she actually has one installed, although I never found any evidence. I edge closer to the desk. “Vanessa—really, the meeting…”
“Oh, relax,” she teases, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You did all the legwork, but I get to swoop in and make the winning play.” She tilts her head, smirk tugging at her lips. “Or whatever those sports folks say.”
I glance down at my notes, nodding frantically, my pulse already picking up.
And then the door swings open.
My head spins, and I’m lightheaded.
Magnus.
This would be an opportune time to faint. Or for that trapdoor to kick in.
He moves with that slow, deliberate confidence that makes everyone else feel like extras in his scene. His eyes land on me, and I can practically hear the hum of expectation: playful, flirtatious, dangerous.
“Little man,” he says, voice low, that teasing lilt that makes my knees weak. “I was hoping…”
Hoping. For the private office bathroom. The stolen kisses. The way his tail flicks when he’s excited. My stomach does a full somersault.
And then his gaze shifts.
Vanessa. Sitting behind me, poised, smug, perfectly aware. And suddenly I’m not alone in the way Magnus expects. I’m just a mailroom clerk-turned-admin parading as a junior strategist. A lackey with no idea how obvious I’ve been.
“Oh,” he says, voice tight, incredulous. “I—what—”
Vanessa leans forward, grinning like she’s won a battle. “Hello, Magnus. Your little man? I had br bring him up from the mailroom to be my admin when I knew I was going to be… out sick. Did he tell you otherwise?”
I feel my stomach drop. My voice? Gone. My hands? Frozen over my notebook. My face? Flaming.
“I—” I start, but Magnus doesn’t need my words. His eyes widen as his chin trembles. Because of me. My face burns hot, and once again, I open my mouth and nothing comes out.
“Wait, so you’re not a junior strategist?”
I open my mouth, but Vanessa interrupts me.
“Oh, Magnus-poo.” She claps, oblivious—or perfectly aware—of the tension. “Well, isn’t this dramatic? Looks like someone wasn’t completely honest about his position. Again, mailroom to admin, in case that wasn’t perfectly clear.”
Magnus hasn’t taken his big brown eyes off me.
“I trusted you,” he says, low, controlled, and his tail slaps behind him like some warning flag. “I thought—”
“I didn’t want to ruin anything,” I manage to choke out. “I… I just wanted—”
Magnus doesn’t slam the door. He doesn’t have to. His disappointment, his hurt, his feeling of betrayal—it’s enough. And just like that, he’s gone.
And me? I’m left in the middle of Vanessa’s office, notebook in hand, feeling like the world just tilted off its axis.
The campaign pitch, the city, the community project—it all feels meaningless. The only thing that matters, the only thing I can’t stop thinking about… is Magnus.
I shouldn’t have lied.
I shouldn’t have fallen in love.
And I definitely shouldn’t have let the lie linger.