Page 68 of Sweet Venom

Azariel had orchestrated all of this. From getting my books out on every platform to bringing me here, to this old, magical bookstore, where readers had gathered just to seeme.

I wiped a tear from my eye, hastily brushing it away before it could fall.Nope. Not going to cry.

I looked back at the line of readers stretching down the block, their faces lit up with happiness and I felt a rush of excitement but also dread through me. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of standing in front of all these people who knew my name. Who knew me.

My stomach clenched with the thought.

I had always dreamed of writing and creating magical worlds for readers. Something that would make them feel seen, make them laugh, cry, fall in love. But the idea of being seen in return? Of stepping out from the shadows and into the spotlight? That part scared me.

What if they don’t like me? What if I’m not what they expect of me?

Those questions circled my like vultures, picking away at the confidence I’d barely stitched together. That old familiar ache clawed up my throat and I found it hard to breathe.

You’re not supposed to be here. You don’t deserve this.

“Stop it,” Azariel’s voice broke through my mind like the sun through a storm. He stepped closer to me, until we were almost chest to chest. I swore I could hear the beat of his heart. I glanced at him, surprised. His unfeeling expression didn’t change, but I saw the way his brow had tightened. Just a fraction.

“Get over your insecurities,” he muttered. “You belong here.”

You belong here.

How did he know? How did he know what I was thinking?

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died in my throat. There was something in his eyes—something softer than I’d ever seen. More tender than before. My heart thudded in my chest. Maybe it was the way he stood in front of me, not pushing, not demanding. Just... being there— like a shield. My heart pounded so hard that I had to touch my chest and tap it three times to make it settle down.

In his cold, quiet way, he was offering me a space to breathe, to feel like I actually belonged in this sweet world he had built for me.

He built this for me.He took my talent and my stories and gave me my dream.Why?

I took a deep breath, feeling the tension ease just a little. “Okay,” I said, my voice a bit shaky, but I was determined. “I’ll try.”

Azariel’s eyes flickered to mine for a second, a brief, almost unnoticeable flicker of something that looked a lot like pride or maybe that was just wishful thinking. “You’ll be fine. Now let’s go. They’re waiting for you.”

Before I could let my anxiety win, he placed his hand at the small of my back, firm and grounding, and guided me forward. The contact was barely there but I felt it all the way down to my bones.

Oh, God. This is it. This is really happening.

And weirdly, all I could think of at that moment was my dad. Quiet, reserved, the kind of man who despised being the center of attention. I felt like him. And yet, somehow, I was here. A spotlight I was afraid of, a dream I still barely believed in, and a grumpy, at times emotionally constipated man at my side who apparently believed in me harder than I ever had.

And that? That might’ve been the real magic.

We stepped across the threshold of the bookstore, and it was like walking into a dream carved from warm light and quiet magic. It felt like stepping into another realm far from the one I’m stuck in. Another world filled with quiet corners and countless books written by dreamers.

The small bookstore felt timeless with rose-gold sconces glowing softly on the brick walls, casting a honeyed hue over rows of antique shelves. My favorite scent—old paper, leather-bound spines, and something floral—maybe jasmine—lingered in the air. I inhaled, filling my lungs with the sweet air around me. Somehow, it wrapped around me like a familiar memory, even though I’d never been here before. The hardwood creaked gently beneath my steps.

Then the crowd of smiling readers ahead of us parted making room for us to move toward the signing table. My heart swelled with joy as I took in the faces of every reader here. Their eyes were wide and their smiles were warm and excited. Once we reached the table I noticed it was located beneath a canopy of twinkle lights and trailing vines.

My heart beat loud enough to echo in my ears.

My nerves hit me all at once.

Still, I held my head high, spine straight, shoulders back. I refused to let the anxiety clawing up my throat take this dream from me. Not today. Not ever.

I focused on the way the light danced against the dust in the air. I tried not to think about all the eyes on me, the expectations. The pressure to have it all figured out— to be perfect.

When I felt like it might become too much, I felt the quiet and strong presence of Azariel at my back and like magic it made me feel not only brave but seen in a way that doesn’t scare me. I know at times I’m strong but other times I’m flawed. I’m quiet. The real me–the one not everyone gets— is here with him. He brought her out.

Ironic that the coldhearted, emotionally distant man at my back was keeping me grounded. I never saw that coming. What a rare but…beautiful plot twist.

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