Shadow & Vines
Sonder & Seductions 003 | Read the first two chapters of Shadow & Vines by Divinity Rae
🔮 A First Look at Wesgrove
Welcome to Wesgrove!
I’ll be releasing the full kindle downloadable ebook for this story for my paid subscribers soon and wanted to give you a special sneak peak of the story.
Shadow & Vines has:
Grumpy/Sunshine
Forced proximity
Dual POV (because we love it when he’s down bad)
Magic, cute cats, and illegal yearning.
Simmering spice (slow burn but with yearning hehe)
📜 INCIDENT REPORT “Shadow & Vines”
Filed by: Paige Turner, DMACC Officer Level II
Date: New Moon
Location: 69½ Wesgrove RD, beneath Wilde & Vine (at the bookshop)
Summary:
The male suspect (THORNE) is some kind of Shadow Wielder, the other is a florist—a mage with elemental earth magic (IVY). There was only one rule between them, no over night stays—no working after hours… I don’t know why she ran—it only seemed to encourage him. We found nearly a dozen shredded pillows stuffed in a bag in his room… The creature they unleashed? Still on the loose.
Status:
Investigation ongoing…
Trigger Warnings:
Stalking/staring from the shadows, unsolicited “help”, inappropriate thoughts about her… yearning—like he’s down BAD!
Chapter One ~ Thorne
CRACK…
The awful crunching of pyre-dried bones echoes beneath my skin. Heaving with the memory of all their faces—their screams, I lurch awake to the ever-present whisper of the one mistake I swore I’d never make again...
The ruby gem of the silver amulet around my neck gleams in the hazy grey of my loft—a leash and a warning. Shadows pour from every corner of the room. Writhing and erratic, they mirror my mood. The restless dark waits for me to lash out—waits for me to unleash them on the threat—
CRACK…
“Foolish little mage...” I groan as shattering clay skitters a floor above my bookshop.
I don’t bother putting on a shirt. The indecency of the hour barely lends itself to the loose pair of pants I step into.
I pull the drapes of my window back just enough to see the sliver of moon haunting the sky. It’ll be nothing more than a ghost tomorrow. She’s welcome to work as loudly as she wants during business hours. But never at night—never alone with me. Especially on a night like this.
We have one rule, one understanding, to be upheld between us:
No overnight stays.
Under the coming darkness of the Shadow Moon—the binding of the amulet still might not be enough to save her from me.
Restless shadows trail me into the hall, gathering into a void of black as I make my way up the steps and into the darkened bookshop. The aged wood is silent under my feet as I move through the maze of shelves.
I stride past the chittering whispers of stories begging to be read. Each adventure calls to me, trying to bury themselves under my skin as I make my way through the stacks of touch-starved books.
The enchanted scent of petrichor and pine resin fills the fantasy section, leading me right up the spiraling staircase.
She hasn’t even been here six months, and I already can’t get her incessant yapping and giggling out of my head—always prancing around in those dresses, asking questions, and thumbing through my romance books.
I reach the landing of the second floor as silently as I managed the first. My mind is emptied of all thoughts the second I see the Wilde & Vine sign hanging above the door. The open door…
Everything in my brain stops as I peer into the warm light caressing the edges of my darkness. It would have been a mercy to have torn the door off the hinges.
Maybe it would have softened the blow of the sweet smell of cherry blossoms—maybe it could have neutralized the effect of those whisky-brown eyes. But this—this wide, open invitation. It’s truly brave considering she’s on her knees with her back to the door, muttering something to herself.
A part of me hopes it’s an offering to whatever gods she prays to as she dumps a handful of dirt into the empty container beside her.
Even in the tattered oversized shirt she’s wearing, she is still the most picturesque thing in the nearly fairytale shop. My eyes drift lower to the mix-matched socks peeking out from beneath her ass… Her perfect ass.
Stop looking at her ass. I inwardly chide myself.
And I want to—only she comes up onto her knees, bending over at the waist, her shirt riding up and over the mahogany brown of her skin.
I know I shouldn’t—know that I can’t. But the ancient thing deep inside of me wants to rip that sliver of fabric from between her thick thighs with my bare teeth.
I fight to focus my eyes on anything else but each perfect curve I have been cursed never to touch. She’s not just off limits because we essentially work together—she’s a mage—some kind of plant weaver. Though, even that sounds reductive based on the things I’ve seen coming out of this shop. No matter what kind of mage she is, she can never be trusted, not with me—not with my power.
The last time I trusted a mage, I woke up with this amulet around my throat, bound to a hidden grimoire in my bookshop. I’ve been trying to free myself for years—and then she shows up—every bit a trap I find myself hungry to be tangled in.
I try to move—try to speak—but I am raptured by the silhouette of her alluring figure under the warm mage lights floating above the rows of the plant nursery. The suspended orbs glow like streetlights through a fog-covered window. She has truly turned this place into a small greenhouse. It’s come such a long way since the last time I—visited.
The familiar smell of cherry blossoms makes my mouth water as I step closer to the doorway. I have to fight to remember why I stormed up here. A fight I am all but losing as her plants stir, fussing as if they’re trying to warn her she’s not alone anymore.
She rises, placing the bin and shards of clay onto a nearby table.
“Shh—shh… Sleep…” she croons at a suspiciously large snapping Venus flytrap. She pets the fanged plant, humming quietly—soothing it—treating it like a budding rose or a blossoming moonflower. The delicate tips of her fingers trace lazy circles over the top of the gaping maw. The plant settles under her touch in mere seconds. It hangs as peacefully as it did before I shrouded this doorway.
The gentleness of it all vexes me. Striking me like lightning right in the chest. I have to restrain my shadows from reaching for her.
I take a deep breath—holding it in—trying my best to strangle the many nights I have shredded my bedding trying not to think about those gentle hands…
The nursery sways contentedly under her spell, sleeping soundly once again.
She smiles softly at her accomplishment—tormenting me with a weapon she doesn’t know she possesses.
I stood where I stand now when I witnessed this smile for the first time.
I remember the feeling well—all those years of becoming impenetrable… Her smile cut right through it all…
It left me perfectly wounded—forever marred by the beauty of such a thing.
It’s the one she only shows when she thinks she’s alone. The one that’s always so bright and easy—not a shadow beyond the dimples creasing the perfectly flushed skin of her cheeks. Surely it’s where the sun goes to rest after the dawn…
If beauty and a gentle soul were enough—I’d be on my knees for her every night. But even I know that staring into the sun is blinding. Even I know how it burns.
Burying my reckless thoughts under the shadows gathering at my feet, I step out of the shadows and into the role of the man she thinks I am.
If she ever finds out what truly lies beneath my skin—if she knew the danger she’s putting herself in just by being here tonight—she’ll wish she had the good sense to stay as far away from me as possible.
Chapter Two ~ Ivy
“Shit.” I mouth silently.
The scent of cinnamon and cloves curls around me like invisible smoke.
Magic. Powerful magic, but not mine.
The dim mage lights flicker a shade brighter, radiating as every shadow in the room surrenders to him. My plants sway, rebounding gently as if he plucks each shape of their shade by hand. I turn slowly, watching the slithering silhouette of my favorite monstera dive into the inky black of the sea of darkness silently stalking around his feet. I’ll never get used to seeing it.
His magic—intrigues me—it draws me in the way a deadly nightshade seduces you to touch it. He glares at me through the perfect mess of disheveled hair falling into his face. He’s a mandrake of a man, regarding me like I ripped him from the soil of that basement lair he calls a loft, and now he’s here to scream at me about it. The skin of his usually pale cheeks is tinged with the heated blush of someone who looks like they’ve tossed and turned all night.
I try not to let my gaze linger where his pants hang low on his waist. My eyes trail up the marble-like carvings of his abs—mapping each faint scar across the plane of his very shirtless chest.
He looks like a war hard won—like he would be the last man standing on a battlefield of brutes. Not because his tall, wide frame has to duck under most doorways to enter the room—it’s that look in his eyes. He has the look of a man who learned restraint not as a kindness, but survival.
My shadow detaches from me, slinking into the depth of his commanding power, before it leeches onto him—curling around him—drifting between his legs like a purring kitten.
Those hungry eyes fixate on me, making me violently aware of what I’m not wearing. Thorne is annoyingly attractive. Devastatingly so, unfortunately for me.
Every time those ember eyes lock with mine, my body has the same response—only this time, he can clearly see that I’m not wearing a bra. I cross my arms, trying to hide the peaks of my nipples as he approaches me in those slow, measured steps.
He stops right in front of me, gesturing for my arm. I place my hand on top of his out of curiosity more than anything. His bare skin touching mine makes my stomach flutter in ways it hasn’t in a long time. A small shudder raises the hair on the back of my neck as he gently brings my gilded wrist into view between us.
“Such a gorgeous little invention, isn’t it?” The rich timbre of his voice takes flight beneath my ribs like a riot of ravens.
“My father gave it to me...” I get out, trying to keep my breaths even.
“Did he teach you how to use it as well?” The stern set of his full lips tugs up as he arches a brow at me.
“Down to the very second.” I return with equal contempt.
“Would you mind telling me the time, Ms. Wilde?”
“I’d only planned to be here for a few hours but then—”
“The time, Ivy—read it back to me, please.”
“3:27...” I huff, flustered at the way his voice wraps around my name with gentle admonishment.
“Good. And would that be AM or PM?”
“A.M.” I grit out, growing more bothered than hot.
“So you can read it—even if it’s off by a few minutes.” He says as he glances at the rickety shop clock on the wall. “It’s why I’ve always preferred analog clocks to digital clocks… Digital clocks miss things—they skip the small moments. Sure, they show you the time… but an analog tells you the time.” His gaze finally trails up to meet my own. “Each ticking second has a way of becoming…”
“The inner dialogue of the moment.” I whisper reflexively.
The arch of the stained glass dome on the wooden watch face is the only one of its kind. My father placed each intricate facet of my favorite flower by hand—soldering each piece together with gold. Thorne traces a full circle around perfectly depicted flower atop the intricately carved cherrywood.
Even if Thorne tries to mask it, he’s no match for the proud wooden spectacle around my wrist. He looks at my watch the way I catch him looking at me sometimes…
Several beats of silence tick by.
“Dendrophalx lendenii.” I say, trying to ignore the thing strumming between us. “They call it the ghost orchid…”
He hums low in his chest with something that sounds like approval. The sound awakens the aching thing inside me as I try to avoid his searching gaze.
I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’ve been imagining it. But the look on his face—in his eyes…
“It must have taken such a powerful enchantment to keep this old wooden thing going…” He says, and I’m not sure if he’s asking, so I don’t answer—don’t correct him. “What a shame to be surrounded by such beautiful things you never use.”
My heart lurches when his fingers rest on the pin of my watch. I haven’t been able to set this thing right since—well, since my world stopped. He pulls the pin from my watch with the deftness of yanking an arrow from someone’s chest.
The ticking freezes, along with my heart.
“Did you know that this hand measures proportion and this one here tracks position?” He winds the gears. “Without proportion and position, precision—even down to the second—means nothing.” He leans down, so close to my face that our noses almost touch. “There—perfectly set—as such a gorgeous timepiece should be.” A slight smirk tugs his full lips to one side. “So let’s try this again. Can you tell me where you’re supposed to be in proportion to this shop when that point is positioned there—and the other there?” He gives my watch two light taps, but his eyes never leave mine.
“Not here obviously, but—”
“Not. Here.” He repeats. All the humor disappears from his face—reminding me of who he is—of how hot and cold he’s been with me since I signed my lease.
“I booked a last-minute job. It’s a big opportunity for me—I have to deliver—”
“You also have a leasing agreement—one that prohibits you from interrupting my sleep if you can recall…”
I try not to let my shoulder slump because I do recall.
He gave me a shot on this block when no one else would. And trust me, I get it. It’s risky bringing in first-time business owners. He gave me this place for way cheaper than the medium around here and only asked one thing of me—
I glance at the shop clock, then down at my watch—it’s 3:33am
I don’t know what to say, so I swallow the lump in my throat and say nothing.
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, probably regretting that he ever let me in here. Something hot sparks in my belly. Embarrassment? Anger? Both? I don’t know, but it’s completely unfair for him to treat me like some troublesome tenant. I broke one rule—just one.
“The point is, you have to stop doing this.” He finally says, looking down at me with his hand resting on his hip. “I can’t sleep when you’re here.”
“Didn’t sound like you were sleeping to me.” I retort, refusing to let him blame me for something I didn’t do. “You were down there yelling like you were in a blood feud with an ogre.” My hand comes to my hip, mirroring his as I point directly in his face. “You terrified Jinx, and she came running up here, knocking my pots over, like she always does. “I didn’t disturb your sleep. You’re just—disturbed.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. Still, the shock on his face is more delicious than it should be. I look down to find that the glory of my satisfying sass is short-lived.
Shadows writhe around him, bleeding across the floor towards me as he takes a step in my direction.
The town warned me about this shop—warned me about him.
Beware of the reclusive son of darkness with undefinable and dangerous magic…
The mage lights dim and flicker, dragging all the light of my shop into him. I stand my ground—trying to keep the pressure of my magic under control. It doesn’t work. It rarely does in these kinds of situations.
I squint my eyes shut as my control snaps.
This is the one thing I’ve been trying to avoid since meeting him—since hearing his voice.
The smell of cherry blossoms fills the air.
I open my eyes to a swarm of swirling pink petals raining down all around him. Embarrassment warms my cheeks, and that just makes it worse. Vines spring from the ground, bursting to life in the shape of a heart. Rainbow-colored flowers sprout and sway happily like a choir of fangirls fanning out around his feet. For a moment he doesn’t move—doesn’t even look at me. He just stands there regarding the mess with an unreadable expression.
When his darkened eyes finally meet mine, his shadows lash out—not at me but at my magic. They strangle my vines one by one, crushing each and every petal until there’s nothing left but ash.
My stomach roils at the sight. I finally take a step back—away from him.
He tracks the movement with closed fists and a clenched jaw.
“Not as brave as you thought?”
“You’re not as scary as you think.” I retort, not daring to retreat further.
“Are you certain? You’ve never been alone with me in the dark.” He lowers his head, letting whatever that darkness is peak out from beneath his thick lashes, but I won’t cower before him.
“Is that an invitation?” I ask, reclaiming the space between us in two strides.
I don’t hear how it sounds until it’s too late.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
My heart races so fast it nearly tunnels my vision.
What’s wrong with me?
Of all the things I could have said—why did those words just come out of my mouth? He must be thinking the same thing. The man who spends his days surrounded by words opens and closes his mouth, but nothing comes out. I mean, he doesn’t talk much, but he has never stuttered or stumbled over his words in my presence. I almost feel bad—what if I made him uncomfortable? It was such a stupid thing to say…
He runs his hand through his perfectly tousled waves—gathering his composure. “You can stay tonight, but let this be the last time—” He offers, but more stern than he’s been all night.
With a flick of his wrist, my traitorous shadow slinks back to me. The way he does it is so—so… arrogant… so dismissive as if the thought of being in the dark with me disgusts him.
“You’re a hypocrite, you know—technically you woke yourself up.” I protest one last time—determined to have the last word.
“We have rules for a reason. Follow them.” His even tone narrows the space for reasoning any further. But it doesn’t stop me, even as the shadow-wielding bookkeeper turns to leave.
“Oh, come on! Be fair!” To my surprise, he stops just before ducking under the doorway. “Is it really necessary to be so strict? You literally live downstairs—what could you possibly be worried about Thorne? There’s only ever the two of us here—”
“Precisely—” he says, ember eyes darkening as they blaze a path up my bare legs, over the curve of my hips and across my chest. He lets them linger on my lips before meeting my eyes again. “That’s precisely the problem, Ms. Wilde.”
With that, he glides out of my shop as darkly as he came in.