Chapter 1 Aurora #2
At exactly 9 a.m., we throw open the doors and welcome the usual wave of Lorewood weird. Hikers come and go all day. Some have been on the trail for weeks or months, while others are just beginning their journey.
If you’d have told me a few months ago I’d be selling gizmos that turn urine into drinkable water, I would’ve told you to fuck off.
And yet, here I am.
I used to code and design websites. I built pretty digital spaces for people who didn’t know what they wanted until they saw it and decided they hated it.
Now, I sell piss filters.
I love coding, and I’m fucking good at it. But between the burnout and the toxic tech bros, I was a mess.
These days? I pour all that into Lilith’s Garden instead.
I built out the entire online shop—designed the layout, uploaded the inventory, even wrote the product descriptions. Hell, I started working on it before I ever set foot in Lorewood.
It’s ready. Has been. I’m just waiting on Eve to give me the green light.
In the meantime, it keeps my brain from going stale without dragging me back into a cubicle, forcing me to use a Keurig no one’s bothered to clean since Obama’s first term, and a slow death via Teams notifications and calendar invites titled “quick sync.”
Between nerding out over the website and chatting with hikers about which lightweight bidet attachment would complete their Appalachian experience, the day flies by.
It seems like more and more people want to disconnect and explore the Trail.
“Where did all these people come from?” Eve sighs as she throws herself into a pile of sleeping bags.
“Don’t even think about making me clean that up.”
I rest my hands on my hips and glare at the grinning blue-haired pixie.
“It’s been a day, that’s for sure,” murmurs Eve from the floor. “Do you want to grab a drink once we close up?”
“Sure! And while we’re at it, we can talk about adding the online store to your website. It could be really great for your business. I have everything set up and ready to go. You just need to look through and approve the design before we go live.”
I bring my hands together in a plea while I give her my patented puppy-dog eyes.
Eve smiles but looks away.
“I don’t know, Aury. I like my business the way it is. I like the size and the scope. I’m afraid doing this will make it too big and I’ll lose control.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, I get it,” I say, aiming for casual and overshooting straight into chirpy.
Truth is, I don’t get it.
Not really.
Eve is the most adventurous person I know.
She named her shop after Lilith, preaches sex positivity before the sun’s finished rising, and keeps a spreadsheet of which local mountain men are good in bed. But when it comes to selling tents online? Suddenly, she’s worried about losing control.
I know it’s not about the tech. It’s about the weight of it all. She’s been doing this solo for years, and I just wish she’d let me carry some of it.
Eve pulls herself out of the cloud of sleeping bags and brushes her hands on her pants.
“Okay!” Eve shouts, clapping her hands. “Let’s go. I need vodka, stat!”
She shoots me a shy grin and quietly starts cleaning up the mess she made.
I take that as my cue and look around for anything else that needs tidying.
Once the store is clean and the register is locked, Eve and I leave through the front door, arm in arm.
Lorewood’s location deep within the Appalachian Mountains means Main Street slopes, and Eve’s store sits right in the middle of this incline. Strings of bright white light bulbs crisscross above us, casting a warm glow as we walk downhill toward the only bar in the area.
The air is cool, carrying the scent of pine and frost from the woods just beyond town. The soft rustle of leaves skitters across the pavement, blending with the quiet hum of conversation spilling from our destination.
When we reach the bottom of the hill, a shop I hadn’t noticed before catches my eye.
I’ve only been here a few weeks, so that’s not surprising.
But the name—Nodens’s Used & Rare Books—makes something deep within me hum with happiness.
I come to a full stop and give Eve the kind of stern look that says: bitch, explain.
“E, why have you been keeping this from me? I can’t believe you’re my best friend and you didn’t tell me about this!”
“Um … oh, right! Because books. Duh!” Eve replies, dramatically slapping her palm on her forehead.
“Geez, Aurora, maybe because we’ve been busy at the store, and I thought knowing where to get groceries is more important than encouraging your addiction to paper and bindings.
Remind me, how big is your Tbr pile at home? ”
I love Eve, but I hate it when she’s right.
“Okay, I guess food is more important than books, but look at this place! It’s basically porn for book people. And … AND! Do you know who Nodens is?”
I know I’m a grown-ass woman clapping her hands and bouncing excitedly in front of a bookstore, but seriously—places like this are few and far between.
Eve laughs, then humors me. “Actually, I just assumed it had something to do with literature. The guy who owns this place is a total Lorewood legend. People talk about him all the time. Some of it’s weird, some of it’s funny … and some of it? Downright terrifying. Like, serial killer shit.”
“Okay, okay, put the creepy book-man aside for a second.”
Who gives a good goddamn about the stuffy old owner?
“Nodens is a Celtic god,” I say, plowing ahead like the nerd I am. “Points to bookish Ted Bundy for not choosing a Greek god—so overdone. Anyway, Nodens is the god of hunting, dogs, and healing. Isn’t that fascinating?”
My vision slowly blurs as my thoughts scatter in too many directions.
“I wonder if he loves dogs, too,” I whisper, staring off into space.
Sometimes my brain glitches when I get excited. I go into full spinning wheel of death mode—just thinking and thinking, fully stuck in my background task.
When Eve grasps my shoulder and gently shakes me, I realize I’ve gotten lost in the mirror maze of my mind again.
“Earth to Aury! Are you ready for that drink, or are you just gonna stand here on the sidewalk fantasizing about gorgeous, bearded Celtic gods?”
My eyes snap back into focus, and a soft, self-conscious laugh follows.
“Sorry, E, got lost for a minute there. I mean, can’t we do both? Get a drink and dream about those Celtic gods? I think the god of dogs would be a perfect match for me.”
“Girl, you need another outlet for that anxious energy. You look like you’re vibrating,” Eve says, her voice tinged with concern.
“C’mon. I want to be tipsy and talk about your nonexistent love life.”
“Just give me one second. I want to peek in the window really quick.”
“Okay, creeper,” Eve mumbles, already pulling out her phone and firing off texts—probably to those mountain men she was talking about earlier.
I step up to the glass door, cup my hands around my eyes, and peer inside the shop.
Christ, Aziraphale would have a raging hard-on if he caught a glimpse of this place. Rows upon rows of books sit on shelves so close together that I just know my ample behind would have trouble navigating the space between them.
A glowing display case catches my attention, its shelves filled with brittle, beautiful books that look like they haven’t been touched in centuries.
I’m a little surprised a bookshop like this exists in a small, blue-collar town. But what do I know?
I can’t wait to browse the stacks and get lost among the piles of books. Fingers crossed there’s a decent sci-fi section.
“Hey, Eve, you were saying the owner was a little strange. What did you mean by that?”
Okay, so maybe I give a shit about the owner.
Between the name of the shop and what I can glimpse through the window, I imagine a sweet older gentleman with a cane and sweater vest.
“I’m not sure I should say anything. It’s just small-town gossip, and I’m not here for that bullshit.
I’ve only seen the owner a few times, and shit, girl …
he’s sexy as fuck. I’m talking tailored suits and some mysterious, dark daddy vibe.
But he’s standoffish, and the locals love to spread rumors about him always hanging around places where hikers go missing.
I honestly can’t imagine a man that perfect hanging out in the woods, on dirt trails, in those three-piece suits,” Eve gushes, her face melting into a cheesy, dream-like expression that sends me into a fit of laughter.
“Anyway, from what I can tell, he almost never comes into the shop.”
Eve’s description of the owner surprises the hell out of me.
Shit, I was way off.
The inside gives off grand-daddy vibes, not daddy vibes.
“Well, it sounds like my chances of running into dark-book-daddy are pretty slim. Who works at the shop if he’s not around much?”
“Oh! I forgot to tell you about Thane. Mr. Aster? He’s untouchable.
Unapproachable. He seems … above it all, maybe a little snobby.
But Thane? He’s tall, built like a lumbersnack, with these vibrant green eyes that pin you in place and practically peel you open.
And that chain tattoo that wraps around his neck makes me want to drop to my knees and—ugh, I don’t know—lick him like a damn lollipop. ”
“Holy shit! You have a crush! Why am I just hearing about this now? That’s so sweet!” I flutter my eyelashes in the most cartoonish way possible and clasp my hands over my heart.
“Yeah, yeah. He’s almost as untouchable as Mr. Aster. I’ve spoken with him a few times, but he’s another one who keeps to himself. You’ll find that a lot around here. Some people just want privacy—or they moved here to disappear.”
I can’t freaking believe Eve has a crush.
She doesn’t do crushes.
She’s more of a “hit it and quit it” kind of girl.
Just as I step back from the shop door, ready to join Eve, a scent hits me—hard.
Cinnamon and pine slam into my senses, earthy and intoxicating, knocking the air from my lungs. The scent clings, then sinks deeper, curling beneath my skin as heat rushes down my spine in a tight, burning crawl.
I don’t even know what it is … but I want to sink my teeth into it.
It’s sweet and spiced but laced with something smoky. Almost charred. Like dry wood crackling in a dying campfire, the scent seems to whisper, “Come closer …”
My eyes flutter shut as the warmth swells—consuming me, sending my pulse into a riot and igniting a sharp, twisting ache low in my stomach.
I don’t know how I know, but something, or someone, is watching me.
It should creep me out, but … it doesn’t.
Not when it feels like that hidden gaze could drag me to my knees.
There’s a soft moan brewing deep in my throat, and as the scent lingers, I swear I feel an invisible hand guiding me toward an unseen, unfathomable void. One that promises to consume me whole.
I force my eyes open and spin around. But there’s nothing there. Just my reflection in the glass door.
Something darker lurks on the edge of the cinnamon and pine. Something that makes my stomach flip and my pulse spike.
My reflection tilts her head just before the scent thickens.
It’s heavier now, almost physical.
My brain insists it’s just me and Eve.
But my body—every goddamn inch of me—screams that my eyes are full of shit.
The air becomes dense.
Electric.
Humming with a weight that feels … possessive.
And I swear—fucking swear—I feel someone’s warm, taunting breath pressing hot against my ear.
The scent nestles deeper, no longer gentle, and certain of its place against my skin.
Jesus Christ.
I need to get a grip.
This is exactly why Eve wants to set me up with someone.
I almost came from air.
Fucking air.
With a soft shake of my head, I rip myself away from the shop and rejoin Eve.
She’s happily texting, totally unaware that I slipped into some sort of wild, scent-triggered orgasmic trance.
That euphoric aroma lingers like the echo of a dream I don’t want to wake from.
But, fuck, for a second?
Time just … stopped. Like the whole world forgot how to breathe.
“Are you done drooling? Can we please go to the bar now? I’m not opposed to leaving you here on the sidewalk all night,” Eve says with a snort.
“If you leave me here, whose love life are you going to obsess over all night?” I counter with a laugh, hooking my arm through hers.
“Good point! No one’s love life is quite as sad as yours. And I mean that with love, Aury.”
I stick my tongue out at her as we keep walking.
I don’t know what the hell just happened.
Everyone in this town loves to tell stories about strange and uncanny things, so maybe this was my first true Lorewood experience.
Except something inside me—woven into the marrow of who I am—says it’s so much more than that.
It felt … right.
Like I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.
Maybe longer.
But it also felt dangerous.
The urge to run is just as strong as the certainty that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. It’s ripping me in half, each part of me dragged toward something I can’t name.
And as we near the bar, icy fingers of awareness curl around the back of my neck.
I can’t shake the feeling.
The eyes in the shadows are still watching.
And honestly?
If the scent wants to rail me against the glass door, I’m not saying no.
At this point, I’d fuck a cinnamon-and-pine-soaked haunting as long as it didn’t say the words, “Joe Rogan’s podcast changed my life.”
Just give me a firm grip, solid aftercare, and maybe a snack.
So, keep watching, cinnamon broom. But next time?
Use your hands, you coward.