Chapter 7
Tess
After a couple hours of touring the Grounds, my mind was reeling from information overload. Wesley noticed my flagging energy and suggested a quiet alcove in the Library where I could catch my breath.
"I thought you might like a moment to yourself," he said with a warm smile. "There's a cozy nook just around the corner. Take all the time you need. And don’t forget, Moriyana has you scheduled for a meeting about the Oral History project first thing tomorrow. But after that, I’ll show you the ropes."
Gratitude swelled within me as I thanked Wesley and made my way to the secluded spot. The alcove was a small, circular space nestled between towering bookshelves, illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. I sank onto a plush velvet settee, relishing the moment of solitude.
As I settled in, my gaze was drawn to a small, intricately carved wooden box on a nearby shelf. Curiosity piqued, I leaned forward to examine it more closely. The box seemed to hum with a faint energy, almost as if it were calling to me.
Before I could stop myself, I reached out and opened the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of midnight-blue velvet, lay a pendant: a fire opal set in delicate silver filigree. The stone shimmered with depths of orange and red, occasionally flashing with hints of blue. It was mesmerizing.
Without thinking, I lifted the pendant from its resting place. The moment my fingers made contact with the cool silver, the opal blazed to life. Intense heat radiated through my palm, and the stone's colors intensified to an almost blinding brilliance. Tendrils of fiery energy began to seep from the opal, curling around my fingers and wrist like a living flame.
Panic seized me as I tried to drop the pendant, but it seemed to cling to my skin. The silver chain wound itself around my wrist of its own accord.
"That's a dangerous artifact you're holding, little one."
The low, velvety voice cut through my panic like a knife. I whirled to find a man—no, not a man, something far more dangerous—materializing from the shadows. Tousled hair, black at the roots fading to white at the tips, framed a face of otherworldly beauty. His silver eyes, gleaming with an inhuman light, locked onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath.
He was clad entirely in black: a sleek leather jacket hugged his broad shoulders, its collar turned up to accentuate the sharp line of his jaw. Beneath it, a fitted black shirt clung to his muscular torso, tucked into dark jeans that seemed painted on his long legs. Heavy black boots completed the ensemble. The all-black attire only served to emphasize the pallor of his skin and the mesmerizing silver of his eyes, making him look like a predator cloaked in midnight.
He moved with liquid grace, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. "That's not a toy for untrained hands, little librarian," he murmured, his voice like sin incarnate.
My heart thundered in my chest, a mix of fear and... something else, something primal and hungry that I'd never felt before. Heat pooled in my core, my skin tingling everywhere his gaze touched.
I should have been terrified, but instead, I felt... alive.
"I... I didn't mean to," I stammered, fighting to keep my voice steady. "It just... reacted to me."
His eyes narrowed, flickering between my face and the still-glowing pendant. "Interesting," he mused, reaching out to touch the opal. The moment his fingers brushed mine, an electric current surged between us.
"Who are you?" I breathed.
A slow, dangerous smile curved his full lips. "Ciaran," he replied, his thumb tracing small circles on my wrist, sending shivers of pleasure racing up my arm. "And you, Tempest Whittaker, are far more intriguing than I expected."
My eyes widened. "How do you know my name?"
"I make it my business to know everything that happens in this library," he said, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. The touch was gentle, at odds with the predatory gleam in his eyes. "Especially when it involves someone as... unique as you."
I should have pulled away. Every logical part of my brain screamed that this was dangerous, that I was out of my depth. But logic had no place in this moment. I leaned into his touch, craving more of that electric connection.
"What's happening?" I whispered, my voice husky with an unfamiliar yearning.
Ciaran's eyes darkened, swirling with shadows. "The pendant is reacting to you, little one. In a way I've never seen before. You're not magical, yet it responds as if you were. Curious indeed."
As if in response to his words, the fire opal pulsed with renewed intensity. Ciaran's eyes narrowed, curiosity flickering across his features. He reached into a hidden pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, translucent crystal.
"Let's see what this little trinket can really do," he murmured, holding the crystal close to the pendant.
The moment the two objects neared each other, the crystal blazed to life. A mist erupted from its core, coalescing into a vivid, three-dimensional scene that hovered in the air between us.
I gasped as I found myself looking at a younger version of Ciaran, his face etched with grief and rage. He stood in a devastated landscape, buildings crumbling around him and the sky dark with smoke. Beside him loomed a massive dragon, its scales a shimmering obsidian.
"Veldor," Ciaran's voice in the vision cracked with emotion, "we have to do something. We can't let their deaths be in vain."
The dragon's reply echoed in my mind, a deep, resonant voice tinged with sorrow. "What you propose is dangerous, but we should—"
Before I could hear more, Ciaran snatched the crystal away, severing the connection. The vision dissipated like mist in sunlight, leaving me blinking in confusion and a strange sense of loss.
"That's quite enough of that," Ciaran said, his voice tight. He pocketed the crystal, his eyes never leaving my face. "It seems this pendant is more potent than I anticipated."
"What... what was that?" I asked, my mind reeling from the brief but intense glimpse into what I assumed was Ciaran's past. "That dragon, Veldor... I heard his voice in my head."
A shadow passed over Ciaran's face, his silver eyes darkening with an emotion I couldn't quite name. "A memory," he said softly, "from a time best left in the past." His gaze sharpened, focusing on me with renewed intensity. "But the fact that you could see and hear it... that's unprecedented."
I felt a shiver run down my spine. "What does it mean?"
Ciaran's lips curved into a small smile. "It means, my dear Tempest, that you are far more interesting than I initially thought." He leaned in close, his breath ghosting over my ear as he whispered, "And believe me, I already found you quite fascinating."
The heat of his proximity sent a jolt of awareness through my body, making me acutely conscious of every point where we almost touched. I swallowed hard, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. "Who are you really, Ciaran? What aren't you telling me?"
He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of vulnerability in their silver depths, quickly masked. "I'm someone with many secrets, little librarian. Secrets that could be dangerous for you to know."
"I'm not afraid," I said, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice.
Ciaran's smile widened, a predatory edge to it that sent another shiver through me—this time, not entirely of fear. "Perhaps you should be," he murmured.
"I don't understand. What do you mean?"
He threaded his fingers through my hair, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. The heat in his eyes made me weak at the knees. "You're awakening something, Tempest. Something powerful... and dangerous."
His face inched closer, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, tendrils of shadow curled around us, cool and electric against my skin. They caressed my cheeks, my neck, leaving trails of tingling awareness in their wake. With a start, I realized these shadows weren't just ambient darkness—they were an extension of Ciaran himself, responding to his will.
Ciaran's lips barely brushed mine, a whisper of a kiss that left me aching for more. The shadows seemed to pulse with desire, mirroring the longing that coursed through my veins.
"Until we meet again, little librarian," he breathed against my lips. His silver eyes glimmered with promise and a hint of warning. "Remember, our encounter must remain our secret. Not everything in this library is as it seems. Trust your instincts... and that pendant."
Before I could respond, the shadows enveloped him completely. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving me breathless and tingling from his touch.
I looked down at the fire opal pendant, still clasped around my wrist. Its warmth pulsed in time with my racing heart. As reality slowly seeped back in, a wave of guilt washed over me. This wasn't mine to take, no matter how drawn to it I felt.
With a deep breath, I unclasped the pendant, my fingers lingering on its warm surface. As I moved to place it back in its box, I could have sworn I felt a surge of... disappointment? The pendant seemed to grow cooler, its vibrant colors dulling slightly.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling oddly compelled to explain myself to an inanimate object. "You're beautiful, but you're not mine."
As I closed the lid of the box, a faint, mournful hum seemed to emanate from within. Shaking my head at my own imagination, I turned to leave the alcove.
With trembling fingers, I touched my lips, still feeling the ghost of Ciaran's almost-kiss. "What have I gotten myself into?" I whispered to the empty alcove, the echoes of his presence lingering in the air.