Page 2 of Moonveil and Magic

The shop went silent instantly. The playful brawling stopped as the others stilled, their predatory instincts snapping to attention as they caught the change in his scent and a subtle shift through the link he provided. No one argued when Kael grabbed his leather jacket from the hook and strode toward the door.

The hunt had already begun, and the wolf had a reason to run.

Ivy of Moonveil

Ilet my fingertips drift along the spines of the newest book releases, the scent of paper and ink wrapping around me like a heavy, familiar blanket. It was a comfort I had spent a decade cultivating, a specific scent of safety that promised quiet days and predictable nights where nothing unexpected could touch me. I always felt proud of how normal my shop looked to outsiders: bright, inviting, safe. But now, the frantic thrumming beneath the floorboards shattered that illusion, a constant reminder that my ten years of peace were officially over because of what I did two weeks ago. I gripped the edge of the counter, praying to whatever gods were listening that no one would notice.

Still, I clung to the illusion. My shopfront was my sanctuary, my disguise, my rebellion against the chaos beneath. Most days I convinced myself I could keep the mask in place forever. But on others, when the silence stretched too thin, I caught myself wondering if I was strong enough or foolish enough to keep carrying on alone.

The bell above the door chimed.

I looked up from the display I was arranging near the front counter—fresh orchids paired with stacks of glossy bestsellers—and angled it toward the window. Moonveil Books and Craft gleamed in the late sun, all colour and comfort. Yarn spilled in soft heaps from baskets, watercolours lined the shelves beside sketchbooks, and terracotta pots perfumed the air.

The man who entered didn’t look like he belonged in any bookstore. Tall, elegant and wrapped in a coat the colour of midnight, he moved with unhurried confidence. His smile was sharp enough to unsettle. His eyes, grey like polished steel, drifted across the shelves and returned to me.

“Back rooms are off limits,” I said automatically. “If you’re after basil or the newest novel, you’ll want to stay out front.”

“I was told this was the best place in Ebonvale for rare things,” he replied smoothly. “Not mugs. Not paperbacks. Rarer.”

Before I could respond, a calico blur leapt onto the counter.

“Violet,” I muttered.

My familiar flicked her tail with disdain, golden eyes narrowing at the stranger. She leaned forward, sniffed his fingers, then purred. Loudly.

I stared at her. Violet didn’t like anyone. And familiars didn’t lie. If Violet approved, it meant something I didn’t want to face. I took in the sharp line of his jaw in the afternoon light, the way his dark hair slid into his eyes and the intensity in his gaze. It was all striking. Almost predatory.

His smile deepened, and heat crawled uninvited across my skin.

The bell chimed again, this time harsh. The door slammed as a second man strode in. He was heavier, darker, his boots loud on the polished floorboards. A scar at his temple caught the light like a lightning strike.

“You,” he growled, his gaze locking onto mine with a terrifying intensity. “Tell me you haven’t heard about the shard. Tell me you’re not mixed up in this.”

Violet leapt down and curled around his boots. She purred even louder.

I blinked at her. “Seriously? Traitor twice in one day?”

Violet’s golden eyes glinted like she was enjoying this, but unease fluttered through my chest.

The first man arched his brow. “Seems your cat’s opinion is difficult to sway, and yet she favours us both. I’m Lucien Vale, and everyone knows Kael Blackwood of Blackwood Bikes and Motors.” Lucien’s lip curled slightly when he said Kael’s name.

Kael shot him a glare sharp enough to cut stone, then stepped closer to me. Too close. Lucien followed, smooth and silent, until I found myself bracketed between them and the counter, their presence heavy as storm clouds pressing against a single flame.

I braced my hands on the counter, meeting his predatory stare. “My name is Ivy Thornton,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “And since you’ve already introduced yourselves, you can start by telling me why you're crowding my shop.”

Lucien’s faint smile held a hint of threat. “Rumours are spreading quickly in Ebonvale about a fragment of power hidden in the city. An elemental shard, thought lost for centuries.”

My throat tightened. Just the name scraped something raw in me. The memory rose, moonlight dust clinging to my skin, a faintly pulsing box in my hands, but I shoved it down.

Kael’s voice dropped lower, rougher. “Every whisper points to you, Thornton. So, tell us, why? What do you know?” Both men stared at me, sharp and unyielding, as though they might pull the truth straight from my bones. My pulse kicked hard. Violet watched from the corner, her tail twitching, golden eyes glowing like she knew more than anyone else in the room.

Gods, why do men always manage to feel like danger and temptation at the same time? My great-grandmother would rise from her grave to slap me.

It had been only two weeks since I’d stood in the moonlit back room, floorboards groaning as I pulled aside a loose panel beneath the flower fridge. For fourteen days, that small wooden box had been humming faintly beneath my feet, heavier than it should have been, warmth pulsing through the lid. I’d pressed the panel back down with shaking hands then, and the terror hadn't left me since. No one could ever know. “I sell books,” I said coolly. “And yarn. And watercolours. The only shards here are chipped teacups in the clearance bin.”

Neither man stepped back. Lucien’s gaze flicked across my face as if he could read the truth beneath my skin. Kael’s jaw tightened, his broad frame radiating suspicion and heat in equal measure. The air crackled between us, sharp with unspoken threats and something much more dangerous.

Although I held my ground, my body betrayed me. Their closeness prickled along my skin, a pull I didn’t want to acknowledge. Heat spread low in my belly, liquid settling between my thighs. I kept my face carefully polite, praying they had no idea what their nearness was doing to me.