+ Read the First Chapter↓

“Which book were you looking for? I’m sure I can assist you with no problem.”

Her smile was hesitant, but once she squared her shoulders and broke free of her initial discomfort from being near me, her smile brightened. She was adorable in her modest button up blouse and knee length skirt. Even the colors choices were bland, grey and white. There wasn’t a hint of spark to her, but I was captivated and intrigued by a woman who was so obviously hiding from the world. Her glasses nestled themselves on the bridge of her nose and slid down every so often so that she would have to push them back up into place. She was the epitome of prim and proper with her hair pulled up into a top knot on her head. I lost myself for a moment wondering how long those brunette strands were that flowed down her back and I caught myself staring for too long when her smile faded.

“I apologize for staring. I was just noticing the beautiful hue of your hair. You should wear it down.”

She fidgeted where she stood and folded her hands in front of her. It was body language that revealed her level of nervousness and I grinned to see it.

Shaking away her thoughts, she blinked her eyes up at me and donned a fake smile. “Which book were you looking for?”

Chuckling to myself, I went along with her change of subject. “It’s a collection of stories regarding notorious serial killers. Maybe you’ve heard of it. The title is ‘In Their Sights’.”

I wasn’t surprised when she stepped back to place distance between us. Most people took issue with a person who was attracted to the darker side of life. We were the people that others considered abnormal and strange. We enjoyed things that were taboo and without taste. However, I viewed it differently. I’d like to say the book I was after was for pleasurable reading. In all actuality, it was research for the book I was in the process of writing.

“That would be in the non-fiction section, and no, I’m sorry, I haven’t heard of it. Most people come here for more popular fictional stories: romance books, happy endings, stuff like that.”

“Ah … fluff, as I like to call it.”

Her eyes flicked up to me and I grinned again, knowing full well that my comment did nothing to appease her of the distrust she felt.

“I wouldn’t refer to it as ‘fluff’ as you say. I believe every book has a story to tell and a lesson to teach.”

I chuckled at her slight argument and followed behind her as she led me through the dimly lit halls only illuminated by the large windows that lined the walls. Smaller stained glass spheres hung above those windows, which bathed the halls in an eerie red and blue glow. I watched the colors as they washed over the small bits of her exposed skin as she moved. With her hair pulled up, I could see the back of her neck and I fisted my hands in an attempt to keep from reaching out to stroke my finger along the soft creamy surface. She moved swiftly along the floor, her steps graceful and sure, despite the defensive posture in which she held herself.

When we reached the correct section of the library, she pointed to a row of shelves that lined the left side of the musty room. “Your book will be over on the third shelf from the wall. The books are alphabetized by author. You should have no problem finding it.” With those words, she turned briskly to walk away. I reached out, encircling my hand over her small wrist and pulling her back in my direction.

“I apologize. I should have mentioned this before. I’ve been in this section previously, but was unable to find the title. Would you mind assisting me?”

I hadn’t actually tried this section, but her obvious hesitancy intrigued me. Women who were cautious were also smart. They weren’t the type to run off with any strange man they met. They watch over their shoulders, stick to well lit areas, and always remain in visible sight. I knew walking to the shadowed back section of the library with me was something that scared her. However, it was that same fear that captivated me the most. I wanted to explore it, to see how far she could be pushed before she admitted it openly or simply said ‘no’. One of the wonders of modern society is social etiquette. People don’t want to appear rude or ‘different’. They allow polite mannerisms and the concept of ‘fitting in’ to alter their natural inclinations, to make decisions that may or may not be in their best interests.

She fidgeted again while pulling her wrist from my grasp. “Maybe someone replaced it in the wrong spot.” Once again donning a fake smile, she motioned towards the shelves, “Follow me. We may have to dig to find it.”

While walking our way around the tables, I watched her small body glide over the ground. Her steps were hurried and she exuded an air of annoyance at having to continue helping me. Her energy and behavior vacillated between dread and irritation. I chuckled when I noticed it and she turned to look back at me and turned away again to lead me down the aisle.

She looked over the books and I stood back watching as she rose up on the toes of her modest flats. Her curves moved flawlessly beneath the material and I admired that fact that she was round where she needed to be. She had an hourglass figure, not too full and definitely not too thin. When she bent over to check a lower shelf, her ass was front and center and I closed my eyes in an attempt to not get excited while standing behind her.

When I opened my eyes again, she’d straightened up and was back on her toes inspecting another shelf. “Oh!” She appeared to have discovered the book on a top shelf that she could not reach. She jumped to reach it, but her finger barely reached the spine. Stepping up behind her, I allowed my chest to brush across her shoulders as I reached over to pull the book from the shelf. She stilled and I heard her exhale a breath as soon as our bodies came in contact. I moved over her slowly, taking the spine of the book between my fingers and pulling it from the dusty shelf. A bit of the dust fell from the shelf and landed on her head. As I moved away from her, I blew the dust from her hair and grinned as she shivered against me.

Once I’d backed away, she turned towards me and her eyes searched the cover of the book I’d pulled. Her mahogany brows furrowed over her silver eyes and her face scrunched up at the cover image. I looked away from her and laughed when I noticed the crime scene photo on the cover. It was tame in comparison to other images I’d seen in my research, but I assumed she’d never before been introduced to the less popular reality of life – the reality that death exists around every corner and sometimes it isn’t given to a person with any type of dignity or grace.

Turning the book so she couldn’t see it, I stared down at her. She reached up to push the glasses back up the slender bridge of her nose and huffed out another heavy breath. I loved the way she so easily gave away her nervousness, as if every thought and feeling were written across her face in neon paint.

“Not one for carnage, I take it.” My smile was genuine when I questioned her.

She scowled in response. “No. I prefer happy stories: romance, fantasy, even young adult, but all fiction that ends on a happy note. I’m not one for anything dark whether it be real or unreal. However, I especially try to avoid the real. I don’t even watch the news for fear of having something horrific shoved in my face. If I could get my way, I’d make the library remove it all, just so I don’t have to see it.”

She stepped around me to walk away and I stared at her, both curious and disappointed. I’d assumed that a woman who obviously loved books enough to make it her career would be more open-minded and accepting of all types of books, not just the ones she enjoys herself. I couldn’t help but call out to her.

“Are you one of those who is in favor of censorship?”

She turned back to me immediately, her scowl deepening as her hands came up to rest on her hips.

“No. I disapprove of censorship, unless of course someone writes something that is so disgusting that it is offensive or crude. What if someone picks up that book and decides to emulate the character or act out the horrid scenes? What if a child mistakenly comes across it and thinks it’s normal to behave in the ways some of those characters behave?”

Stepping toward her, I noticed instantly how she held her ground. Despite the prim and proper image, she had fire inside her and she was going to make her point known. Her anger had replaced her fear and I used that switch in emotion to my advantage. Not wanting her to walk away, I continued the battle.

“So, what you’re saying is, if it was up to you, you’d completely erase the horror section or the thriller section. How about erotica? Do you also object to sex in books or do you secretly read them while touching yourself?”

Too far. Her expression told me I’d pushed her too far and I stopped walking when I was only a few feet from her.

“Listen, sir. I don’t know why you think you have the right to ask me those types of questions, but I find them to be ill-mannered and disrespectful. I won’t tolerate it in my library!”

I laughed, “Your library? As I seem to remember it, this facility is owned by the county. Have you purchased it secretly while still collecting revenue money from the taxpayers who support its upkeep?”

Her jaw opened and then closed again. “That’s ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous!”

“No.” Taking another step forward, I invaded her personal space. She didn’t back away and I felt the heat of her anger roll against me.

“You are the one being ridiculous. You’re a librarian for God’s sake. You of all people should understand the inherent value in ALL books. If censors had their way, all sorts of knowledge about our roots would be lost. Think of the books that have been banned in the past and what that could have cost us. Would you hide a copy of ‘Huck Finn’ or ‘Tom Sawyer’ away from a teenager who wants to learn about the past? Would you go in and erase the words that you don’t want them to know? Would you allow history to repeat itself because the past atrocities of mankind were wiped off the board as if they’d never happened?”

This time her jaw dropped and, finally, she stepped back. I didn’t care. This was a subject that was important to me.

“Let me ask you this, Miss…” I looked down at her nametag and added,

“Autumn.”

“No.” She interrupted, “I would not hide the works of Mark Twain. I see nothing wrong with his books. As I said, I’m not for censorship. I’m just against books that hold no worth.”

“Such as?”

She got quiet, her mouth puckered and pursed. It appeared as if she didn’t want to answer the question, but her anger made it so that she couldn’t resist. “Such as erotica? Yes, I’ll be frank on that. I hate that this library even carries the section and that I have to constantly chase children away from it who are eager to see what dirty minds can create. That Lucas Bates man, for example. He takes his a step further by calling it ‘dark’, which only means that he uses his tool as a way to play out whatever sick fantasy he has in his head. Rape, murder, torture, and abuse. It’s filth and it shouldn’t be allowed in this institution!”

I smiled. She obviously had no idea who she was talking to.

“Have you ever read any of his books? You seem to be an intelligent woman. Tell me, if a person never learns that such evil exists – if they never hear from a person who’s lived through it – how are they supposed to know how to survive themselves? What would you say if you learned that a woman bought one of Mr. Bates’ books and from having read it, she knew when to shut her mouth and behave in order to survive a situation much like the ones described in his book? What if knowing that bought her enough time to escape? What if the knowledge helped assuage her fears of the unknown when it happened?”

“That’s stupid. There is nothing of value in a book meant to stimulate people by the idea of rape.” She looked away, obviously hesitant to discuss the particular details of the book I was referencing. My book, however, she didn’t yet know that.

“Have you even read his books, Autumn?”

“No, and I wouldn’t come into contact with them if I didn’t have to.”

“And you think they should be removed without having read them? How do you even know what they are about?”

“I’ve been told.”

My fist balled up. I didn’t want to hit her, but I had to resist wrapping my hand around her throat. Her argument had been interesting at first, but her adherence to the dribble she was spewing had quickly grown old. She was the type of person who needed to be taught a lesson.

She turned to walk away and I let her escape. My interest was piqued and I imagined the things that could be shown to a woman who’d obviously never brushed herself across the dark parts of life, one who’d never fantasized about what it would be like to completely let go, to step out of the line and discover just how exotic her life could be.

Sitting down at the table, my eyes followed her quickly retreating form until it disappeared out the doorway back into the red and blue lit halls.

The corners of my mouth curled and an idea came to mind. She was a virgin to the taboo; a woman surrounded in light that she thought would protect her from the shadows.

I was about to show her what she was missing.

I wouldn’t stop until I had her. She was a project that was too hard to resist. She was a character that needed to be developed and an angel that needed to fall.