Page 72 of Magical Melee

This was exactly what I needed.

A task to keep my mind off the uncertainty, the unknown…the complete chaos of my mind.

“This goes behind theCinnamon Bite Tea.” She handed me a tin, and I chuckled.

“As in a vampire?”

Stella nodded. “Indeed.”

I laughed and shook my head. “At least vampires aren’t real. That’s the one thing I can do without.”

“Oh, really?” She reached for some dried mint leaves.

“Can you imagine something actually sucking blood?”

“Mosquitos do it.”

“Right, but I can squish those. I don’t think I can smack a vamp.”

Stella started happily humming as we worked together. The shop felt less like a place of business and more like a second home. For the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of belonging—a connection to something bigger than myself. And despite the mysteries still waiting to be unraveled, I was ready to face them head-on.

The bell above the tea shop’s door jingled, and I looked up from the display of loose-leaf blends I was organizing.

The moment the man stepped inside, the air shifted.

Stella’s humming stopped as she arranged the scones in the pastry case. The warmth of the shop seemed to chill. The soothing scents of tea and herbs were replaced by something sharp and metallic.

He lifted his head as his gaze connected with mine, and I instantly recognized him.

The man from my dream.

He was just as striking in reality as he had been in my nightmare: tall, with dark, slightly curling hair that framed his angular face. His sharp jawline was dusted with stubble, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to glow, even in the soft light of the tea shop. He wore a long, tailored coat, the hem swishing slightly as he stepped forward. His presence commanded a respect I wasn’t willing to give. The guy’s broad shoulders doubled the size of mine, and I wanted to sink into somewhere safe.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” His voice was smooth yet sharp, like velvet draped over a blade.

Stella froze, her hands hovering over a tray of scones. Her cheerful demeanor vanished, and her expression became stern and displeased.

“We’re closed,” she said flatly, her voice devoid of its usual warmth.

The man’s smile didn’t falter.

It grew.

“Strange,” he said, glancing around at the clearly open shop. “It looks very much open to me.” He pointed over his shoulders. “Sign says open.”

“Leave,” Stella said.

Her tone continued to be firm, but there was an edge of unease in her voice that I’d never heard before.

His eyes drifted from Stella to me.

When they locked onto mine, I felt it—the same pull I’d felt in my dream.

He could see straight into my soul, peeling back layers I hadn’t even known were there.

My pulse quickened, and I gripped the counter's edge to steady myself.

“You must be Maeve,” he said, his smile sharpening. “I’ve heard so much about you.”