The library trap

Lissa

“What the hell are we doing in a library?”

I didn’t bother hiding the edge in my voice. Hell, I even said it loud enough for the echo to bounce off the stupid marble floor and into the ears of every poor soul trying to study. Some nerdy girl peeked over a shelf and immediately looked away when I glared at her.

Good choice.

Malik didn’t answer. Of course. Just kept walking like he hadn’t just dragged me halfway across the globe on three hours of sleep, two espresso shots I may or may not have spiked with vodka… and into a building filled with nerdy kids.

Sure I was just twenty five and not much older than them but to me they were still kids. Normal kids.

“Maybe the library’s a front for an underground ring or something,” Nessa whispered, her bubblegum pink bat swinging lazily against her shoulder like she was carrying a purse and not a murder weapon.

The way people kept looking at her made me sure it wouldn't be long before she was swarmed with cops.

Then in a completely different tone, more sultry than before, she added, “No way, Nessa. He’s probably undercover as a hot professor.”

I glanced at her and she batted her lashes like a damn Disney character, if Disney was rated R that is.

People always called me unstable, but they’ve clearly never had brunch with my best friend.

Nessa had…a condition. A crack in her wiring. Doctors called it a split personality or something, but even they weren't sure what was wrong since she refused to talk about it. Though, I knew it had something to do with her parents, I never really asked. 

All I know is, one moment she’s this cute little chaos gremlin, and the next she’s arguing with herself like two enemies forced to share one body.

Yet somehow, she’s the only person I trust to hold a knife behind my back and not sink it in.

So yeah, that says a lot.

I looked at Malik again but he didn't say anything, just kept leading us deeper. 

“Seriously, Malik,” I snapped, my heels clicking way too loudly, “if this is some sick joke, say it now. Because if there’s a trap door under one of these shelves I swear....”

“It’s not a trap,” he finally muttered. “He works here.”

I stopped cold.

HE WORKS HERE?

“Wait...wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me the boy, MY betrothed, works in a library?”

Silence.

I blinked.

“Like...as a librarian?”

He gave a tiny nod.

I felt a scream crawl up my throat.

Nessa gasped, hand over her mouth.

“Librarian kink unlocked.” Then in her other voice, “Oh God, tell me he wears glasses. Tell me!!"

I ignored her, turning toward the nearest bookshelf and punching it, sending three dusty hardcovers tumbling to the floor.

“What is this, W*****d? What kind of mafia engagement ends with a fucking nerd?” I hissed.

Nessa was giggling now, skipping in slow circles behind me. “Who knows? Maybe The godfather had some kind of weird kink?"

I glared at her before shifting my gaze back to Malik. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You cut me off.”

Damn. I did. But that still wasn't a valid excuse.

“This is not what I pictured,” I muttered, brushing invisible lint off my leather coat.

“Oh, baby, don’t be mad,” Nessa cooed. “It’s kind of cute, no? I mean, you’re the Bratva Queen. You burn buildings, lead fights and leave bodies. He reads books. It’s poetic. Yin and yang.” 

Her other voice piped in: “It’s giving ‘please ruin me, ma’am.’”

I sighed through my nose and let it go. For now.

Malik also ignored her and spoke, “He’s twenty-two. Mixed background. Parents died in an accident. Raised by his grandfather, who passed two years ago. College student. Clean record. No gang ties. No power affiliations. Two part-time jobs. Quiet life.”

I blinked.

“So... he’s normal normal? Like a civilian?"

"Exactly.”

I blinked.

"Wow, godfather went all out this time, I really gotta hand it to him. Even from the grave he still finds ways to piss you off." Nessa giggled, skipping happily.

“Just shut the hell up and help me find him, so we can get this over with." I groaned, as we turned down another aisle.

“What's his name again?” Nessa asked.

“Stanley Moreau."

“Oh my God, that’s such a nerd name. Just imagine screaming it while he eats you up."

For Christ's sake. I was really starting to regret bringing her.

I increased my steps, trying to catch up with Malik instead. At least he was more quiet. 

As he turned down a final aisle. He nodded toward the far back, where light flickered from a desk lamp.

“Back section. History archives.”

Of course he would be in the nerdiest part of the nerdiest building.

I adjusted my coat, fixed my wide brimmed hat, and let my boots echo as I walked.

This kid had no idea what was coming.

 I stalked forward and after turning past a bookshelf, I saw him.

He was alone in the corner of the room, his head down, shoulders hunched forward over the worn desk like he was trying to fold himself into the wood.

He was scribbling something on a piece of paper but I really didn't care about that because at the moment, my world had gone silent. 

The sound of Nessa breathing, Malik’s foot impatiently tapping, even words and oxygen, all of it disappeared like I’d just dunked my head underwater.

All I could see was him and he was fucking incredible.

His hair was messy, like he hadn’t bothered to brush it in days. It was dark brown and looked so soft, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to fist it in my hands and ruin something so pretty. His glasses were sliding down his nose, and every few seconds, he’d push them up again with his index finger like a twitch.

Fuck. That twitch.

That little nerdy, nervous habit had me clenching my teeth.

He had earphones on and I couldn't help wondering what he was listening to. His entire aura drew me in, grabbing me by the collar and forcing me to follow.

I took a step closer, watching as he shifted in his seat.

How could someone be so exquisite? The mere sight of him had my pulse racing.

My breath hitched, something inside me snapping.

Fuck. What was this feeling? I'd never felt it before.

It wasn’t love or lust.

It was something much darker. More twisted.

Like it crawled from the bottom of hell and wrapped around my throat.

Obsession.

I wanted him. All of him.

Every twitch, every whisper, every clumsy, flustered movement that screamed "break me", "use me as you see fit" and damn did I want to do just that. I wanted to ruin this pretty little thing till there was nothing but my name on his tongue.

He stood up, stretching a little and I felt something uncoil inside me. His hoodie lifted just a bit, exposing a pale sliver of skin, the faint line of his hip bone.

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from screaming out loud.

I didn’t mean to follow him.

Honestly.

I don’t even remember my feet moving.

But the moment he turned and walked down the aisle, I did too. 

I trailed behind him like a ghost.

He turned a corner and I followed.

I need him. I needed my betrothed.

I didn’t even hear his voice yet, and I already wanted to carve it into my memory. I didn’t know his story, and I already wanted to set it on fire and ink my name to every page.

I didn’t care who he used to be.

Because from this moment forward...

He was mine.

MY betrothed.

And I didn't care if he knew that or not because I'm obsessed, addicted and I'll gladly drag him by the collar and force him into my world, just to watch him unravel with every soft little whimper.

It wasn't my fault, I couldn’t help it.

He just looked so weak,

So fragile, 

So repressed.

So easy to be ruined.

And I fucking liked it.