Chapter 12 – Paranormal Realm 10
Rowan's eyes stayed glued to the thick leather-bound book in front of him, though his focus wavered more than he wanted to admit. He had been reading for over an hour, muttering small remarks under his breath. "Alpha bloodlines, huh. Library politics. Portal wars. So dramatic." His fingers traced the lines as if touching the words would make them less intimidating.
He didn't notice the subtle change in the air around him. The faint drop in temperature, the way the shadows between the bookshelves seemed a little deeper. At first, he thought he was imagining things. After all, libraries had corners and recesses where sunlight barely reached.
But then a prickling sensation crawled up the back of his neck, one he didn't feel every day. It wasn't just the usual alertness. It felt like he was… being watched.
Rowan shifted slightly in his chair, peering past the stacks behind him. Nothing. Just more rows of books. He leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly.
"Okay, maybe my imagination is playing games with me," he muttered, adjusting the book.
Minutes passed, and the feeling grew stronger. It wasn't a fleeting tickle of the spine or a casual look someone cast his way. No, this was focused, prolonged. Eyes on him, following his every movement.
He paused mid-sentence, setting the book down and looking over his shoulder. Still nothing.
"Weird," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
"Maybe Nyphrin is messing with me. Classic."
[…] Nyphrin remained utterly silent. No chime, no comment, not a single hint of her usual sass.
Rowan's fingers tightened on the edge of the table.
"Okay, now it's definitely someone here." He rose slightly, not fully standing, but enough to make himself noticeable in case he was being watched.
"Show yourself."
Silence. The only sound was the quiet rustle of pages from a far-off table, the faint hum of a machine not too close to him, and the occasional creak of polished oak.
Rowan's mind raced. If it's someone that's here to read… why would they be this weird? He tapped a finger against his thigh. If it's a ghost… well, I guess that's new. If it's someone dangerous… why would Nyphrin just stay quiet? She'd say something by now, maybe she won't, can't rely on her.
He stepped back, just a little, giving himself room to maneuver. "Alright, Rowan," he muttered to himself, "don't panic. Don't be stupid. Just… stay focused, you have to complete it."
The sensation didn't fade. It pressed in, subtle yet undeniable. He turned, already expecting to see a shelf shaking, a shadow moving, but still, nothing.
Rowan let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Fine. Just my nerves. Totally fine."
And then, again, that feeling, intense, almost unbearable. He pivoted slowly this time, scanning the aisles. The third row from where he sat. A figure… maybe. He couldn't tell. The subtle glow of light against pale skin, but every time he blinked, nothing.
"Alright. I am officially creeped out," Rowan whispered under his breath. His heart had picked up, and he could feel a heat creeping into his chest that had nothing to do with embarrassment. He crossed his arms, shifting, as if the slight motion would anchor him to reality.
He glanced at the book in front of him, pretending to read, pretending he wasn't aware. "Focus on history," he muttered to himself. "History doesn't… stare at you."
He tried to go back to reading, flipping pages with exaggerated care, but he could feel it. Watching. Studying him. And every instinct in his body screamed: something is very, very wrong.
Rowan's eyes flicked up again. He scanned the aisles with a careful tilt of his head, narrowing his vision. Empty. Aisles of books, stacked neatly, silent. No one.
"Okay," he said quietly, voice shaking more than he wanted. "I'm officially losing it, I can't stay here, damn any mission punishment."
Then, the air shifted again. Not just the feeling of being watched, this time, it was different. Closer. More personal. A scent, not unpleasant, but intoxicating, like sunlight mixed with raw, untamed power. His stomach clenched, his breathing hitched slightly.
Rowan froze mid-breath. Okay… something is off. Very off.
He stood, carefully, slowly, trying not to make a sound. Every muscle in his body was taut. He moved toward the aisle behind him, the one where the feeling was strongest. And that's when he heard it. A low, smooth voice, carrying just enough amusement to make his head spin.
"Hello, little mate."
Rowan's blood ran cold. The words hit him in a way Nyphrin had never prepared him for. His head snapped toward the sound. A man stepped from between the shelves, tall, lean, casually dressed in a black T-shirt and black suit trousers. Blonde hair that fell slightly into his forehead, ocean-blue eyes that, as he stepped closer, flickered into a fiery red. definitely not Gabe. What's happening?!.
Rowan's stomach dropped. He instinctively stepped back, shifting slightly to put distance between them. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing a million miles an hour. What is… what is this? Why is he, why am I feeling this?
Nyphrin was silent. Completely. Rowan's usual internal commentary from her was gone. Not a word, a hint, nothing.
The man took another step, and Rowan could feel the raw, magnetic energy radiating from him. Alpha pheromones, intense, overwhelming, pulling at instincts Rowan didn't know he had. Heat rose quickly in his body, unfamiliar, intrusive.
Rowan's eyes widened. This isn't possible. He isn't supposed to, he's not my mate. Not supposed to affect me like this.
The man smiled faintly, amused by Rowan's tense posture, his widened eyes, his shifting stance. "Relax, little mate," he said, his voice low, smooth, teasing.
Rowan's knees nearly buckled. He gritted his teeth, trying to force a calm he didn't feel. "Uh… hi," he managed, his voice tighter than he wanted.
The man's eyes, red now, pulsing slightly, locked onto Rowan's like he was assessing every part of him, measuring, claiming, testing. Rowan's hands flexed at his sides, unsure whether to hide them or let them fall naturally. His entire body was wired for flight or fight, though he didn't know which instinct to follow.
Nyphrin's silence gnawed at him. Usually, she would have warned him, teased him, guided him. Now… nothing. Just him, and this stranger, and the tension coiling around his chest.
He blinked rapidly, trying to push the feeling back. "Who… who are you?" His voice came out shakier than he intended.
Damon tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "I told you. Hello little mate. Name's Damon Salvatore. Alpha of Silver Moon Park. And I think you already know exactly what that means."
' Damon, Damon, I know this name but from where, I can't believe my memory is failing me now.'
"Why… why are you looking at me like that?" Rowan asked, trying to sound braver than he felt. His throat was tight, his stomach twisting, every nerve on fire.
The man's smirk widened, eyes glinting with amusement and something deeper, something darker. "Because I can," he said simply. "And because you're… interesting. . . very interesting"
Rowan's face flushed, heat spreading in more ways than one. He was also Interesting, That's one word for it. Dangerous is another. Hot is… maybe more, Rowan's brain couldn't process straight.
The man's presence was a force, commanding, territorial. Every subtle shift, every inhalation of Rowan's own shaky breath seemed to draw him closer. Rowan took another step back instinctively.
"Nyphrin… say something," he muttered under his breath, panic rising. Silence.
The man's smile didn't falter. "You're feeling that… the pull, aren't you?" he asked, voice low, teasing, confident. Rowan's heart hammered so violently he thought it might betray him.
"I. . . uh… it's nothing!" Rowan said, but his body betrayed him. Heat pooled in places it shouldn't, instincts stirring in ways he wasn't ready for.
The man tilted his head, observing, smirking faintly. "I see. So this is what happens when my little mate is… affected," he murmured, voice laced with amusement.
Rowan's head spun. Little mate? My… mate? Wait now I remember, he's one of Evelyn's mate. Wait! Evelyn's mate. Oh… no. This isn't supposed to happen. He's… he's. . .
And the worst part? The sensation in his body, the rising warmth, the undeniable pull toward the man, was utterly uncontrollable.
Rowan stepped back again, trying to ground himself. His hands clutched at the edge of the table. His mind scrambled for logic, for explanation, for anything. Nyphrin… why are you silent? What is happening?
The man's gaze softened slightly, but his presence remained overwhelming. He leaned just a little closer, and the red in his eyes pulsed like firelight. "Relax… we'll take it slow," he said, almost mockingly gentle. "I won't bite… unless you want me to."
Rowan's breath hitched audibly. He felt dizzy, confused, and entirely disgruntled. Why is this happening? He's not my mate. He's Evelyn's. He's not supposed to affect me like this. What the hell is going on?
He wanted to run. He wanted to yell. He wanted Nyphrin to interrupt, to save him. But nothing came. He was alone with… Damon.
And that, Rowan realized with sinking horror, was very, very bad.