Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
The invisible string binding me to the magic book was so strong that my body felt weightless. The uncanny similarity between the petal-patterned symbol on the magic book and my peculiar birthmark couldn’t possibly be mere luck.
Feeling both curious and alarmed, I resolved to inspect further. Clutching the book to my chest, I tiptoed toward my office door, opened it, and peered outside. Silence. I locked my door and went back to my seat.
My pencil skirt worked to pull off the sexy librarian look, as Tammy called it, but now, when I was trying to lift it up to my waist, I wanted to scream.
Raising it past my rounded thighs was akin to climbing a mountain, but finally, the black material bunched up at my thighs.
For the cold October weather in London, I’d opted for thigh-high socks—the closest to pantyhose.
The sheer fabric of the stocking wrapped tightly around my legs, only inches below my hips.
I rolled down the left one and stared at my birthmark. Even the circle and the petals in the middle were the same size as that of the symbol on the cover. I kept darting my gaze between my leg and the book until my stomach started churning, and I fixed my clothing with shaky hands.
I’d never thought much about my birthmark.
The inches of raised skin made a perfect circle, and the daisy’s petals had perfectly curved lines. Mom and Dad had never mentioned it, so I had no reason to dig deeper and research the symbol.
But during my studies in college, I learned from a witchcraft book that the daisy wheel symbol was a magic sign of protection. The six-lobed flower pattern within a circle, sometimes called hexafoil, was a witch symbol usually engraved on walls and doors to protect from evil.
So why did I have it imprinted on my leg as a birthmark?
This new revelation meant trouble since the book was magical, linking me back to the supernatural world. I was first thrust back into the world I’d tried to escape when I met my two mates in my dream realm. And now I’d found a supernatural book.
Why now? Could these events have anything to do with my age?
Dad called me regularly to insist on returning to the kingdom since my twenty-sixth birthday was next month. He inherited the throne when he was twenty-five—the oldest age a royal werewolf would become a Queen or King, as long as they had found their fated mates.
Had the Fates decided it was time for me to join the supernaturals again, despite what I wanted?
I gritted my teeth while my heart raced wildly behind my ribs. From the depths of my soul, I felt an upcoming change brewing around me. Something big was going to happen to me, and I dreaded it as much as I dreaded returning to the werewolf kingdom.
I used to sneak into Dad’s meetings with his Alphas to eavesdrop on their conversations. The kingdom hid many secrets, and I was annoyed no one had told me anything.
And rightfully so. I was, after all, a human. And our number two enemy was humans—the werewolf hunters.
I did get caught once in the boardroom, but surprisingly, Dad didn’t punish me for snooping. He said he would involve me when it was time. Since he’d called me more often recently, I’d guess the time was now.
When I was a child, Dad kept me away from his business as much as possible. I had no choice but to learn about the supernaturals from books, a reason why I majored in mythology and folklore in college.
Books gave me the knowledge, and the knowledge gave me the strength to survive in a dangerous world. The more I learned, the safer I was.
Also, escaping into the world of books became therapy number two.
I placed the magic book on the desk in front of me and clenched and unclenched my damp palms. I tapped my foot on the laminate floor while a dull ache formed behind my eyes.
A compulsive need to open the book overtook my body like a tsunami hitting the shore. My body temperature rose—curiosity about the damn book burned through my veins.
I stared at the pages as if they were a bomb ready to detonate in three seconds. Since the book couldn’t be opened, did it mean that the information in it was so important that my life depended on it? And that if I couldn’t open it, well, too bad for me?
I shook my head at these what-if scenarios. I had to go home to clear my mind and attempt to open the book again.
When I stood up too fast, little bright dots appeared in my vision. After a deep breath, I placed the book in my leather bag along with my phone. I closed my office door behind me and knocked on Steven’s. When he answered, I walked in but stopped after only a few steps.
My boss sat at his desk, typing on his laptop. He lifted his gaze to me and frowned when he saw my bag.
“I’m going to call it a day and go home. I’m feeling off, and I’d like to rest before I get really sick. Do you need any other help for the fundraiser, Steven?”
The throbbing at the sides of my head and behind my eyes grew. Was I experiencing side effects after being thrown into the supernatural world again, or was I seriously getting sick?
He stood and started toward me, but I put my hands up. “No, I don’t want you to get what I have. It could be a virus.”
He leaned his hips on his desk. “You’re pale. Go get a well-deserved rest. Text me tonight to let me know how you feel.”
I turned and held the door handle as I glanced back at my boss. “I’ll be fine for the event.”
He nodded and sat back in his rolling chair. I adjusted the strap on my bag and slid it over my black leather jacket that went well with formal or informal outfits and kept me somewhat warm in the cool fall weather.
Climbing down the stairs, I reminded myself I’d made the right decision not to use my parents’ resources to buy anything for my life in London. I didn’t have enough money to buy a car. I used public transportation every day, and I didn’t complain about it.
The cash I saved I hid in my closet, and the rest of my money I used to pay the high rent for a one-bedroom apartment. But I loved the neighborhood, and I lived right across from Lisa.
I was almost on the first floor when my boot caught on the uneven surface of the stairs, and I swayed dangerously, but I managed to steady myself. Today was one of those days.
I couldn’t risk taking the book with me on the bus in case other supernaturals in the city could sense its magic. I’d bumped into werewolves and vampires on the streets and pretended I didn’t know their secret. To them, I looked, smelled, and functioned like a human.
There weren’t too many of them here, but some came to do business with the humans, and some stayed and lived among us. Dad’s people liked to stay close to their territory because there was strength in numbers, and werewolves were happy to be a part of a larger community.
Whenever werewolves walked in the city, they’d behave, avoiding fights and unwanted attention. Only a few humans and the hunters knew of the supernatural existence.
The rest lived happily in oblivion, and rightfully so, to prevent freak-outs and panic attacks.
Humans often made irrational decisions, and Dad was afraid of their reactions to the supernaturals.
Humans could hunt the werewolves, torture them, and try to figure out how to extract their magic powers.
I sighed heavily, and the taxi driver sent me a strange look in the rearview mirror.
I’d been thinking about my family more lately. Mom was good at sensing when I had a hard time at home, and she’d bake me chocolate chip cookies, which had turned into my coping mechanism over the years. Even the smell of cookies triggered sweet memories of spending time with my royal mom.
Eating treats to deal with stress didn’t help my thick thighs and butt, which stuck out more than it should have.
I told the cab driver to drop me off at the corner, paid, and got out of the car, clutching my bag. I made a quick stop at the small grocery store on the first floor of another building across from mine and picked up all the baking items I needed, plus bread and a jug of milk for Lisa.
Her breakfast had been the same since I’d known her for the last seven years. Two pieces of toast with lots of butter and a cup of warm milk with honey. I ate a lot of the same my first year in London while I lived with her.
I strolled down the snack aisle—one of the three aisles in the entire convenience store. The ding of the cashier’s machine echoed from the front of the store.
Suddenly, goose bumps prickled my neck, and my pulse sped.
I snapped my gaze to the slinky, tall man at the end of the aisle. My instincts were always correct, and I trusted them to keep me safe. Although I was born a human, I could still feel a supernatural presence around me.
The man was a vampire. He lacked the hulk-like muscles of werewolf men. His nose was long and pointy. Dark shadows encircled his eyes above his hollow cheeks. He looked unhealthy, as if he were starving.
His arm was outstretched to the highest shelf, but the gesture was so fake and awkward that it told me he wasn’t hungry for human snacks. Only human blood.
And I was right in front of him.
I sucked in a sharp breath, which he must have detected with his sensitive hearing because his gaze traveled to mine. The hungry glimmer in his eyes made me avert my attention back to the shelves.
It’d worked so far for me. If I didn’t look him straight in the eye, he wouldn’t be able to compel me. My breath came out raspy, and I was afraid I looked suspicious to him. I turned my body to face the cookies and squeezed my eyes shut, praying the vampire wouldn’t make a scene.
But I couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. My heart raced, and the urge to flee overwhelmed me. With his captivating stare, which was the worst vampire power, he could make me do anything, like let him drink my blood without protest and give up my will.