Tempest Rising (The Dragonne Library #2)

Chapter 1

Tess

My heart raced, pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The dark taste of Ciaran lingered on my lips, leaving me dizzy. I stumbled back, my hand flying to my mouth.

"What was that?" I blurted out, my voice embarrassingly breathless. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion and arousal that clouded my thoughts. "You can't just... What are you doing? You have no reason to interfere in my life like this."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a shift in the air. The shadows in the room seemed to pulse and writhe, reaching towards me like grasping fingers.

Ciaran's eyes glowed silver, luminous and intense in the dim classroom. His tousled black-and-white hair fell across his forehead. His pale skin seemed to glow in the shadows, accentuating the powerful muscles visible beneath his tight black shirt. I found myself fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, to run my fingers through his hair and trace the contours of his face.

A low growl rumbled from his chest, the sound primal and possessive.

"You're wrong," he snarled, his voice rough and raw with emotion. "You're our mate."

Before I could process what he'd said, the shadows around Ciaran surged forward. They wrapped around my waist, impossibly strong. In one fluid motion, I was pulled back into his arms.

His mouth claimed mine once more, hot and demanding. This time, there was no hesitation, no moment of shock. His kiss was pure passion, raw and unrestrained. One of his hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss, while the other splayed across my lower back, pressing me flush against him.

A soft moan escaped me as his tongue swept into my mouth, tasting, exploring. The heat of his body seeped through my clothes, igniting a fire that spread from my core to my fingertips. My hands, seemingly of their own accord, slid up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer.

His fingers tangled in my hair, the gentle tug sending sparks of pleasure across my scalp. I gasped as his teeth grazed my lower lip, the slight sting only intensifying the pleasure. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, desperate for an anchor in this storm of sensation. The taste of him—dark and addictive, like rich coffee with a hint of danger—flooded my senses, leaving me craving more.

For what felt like an eternity, I lost myself in the kiss. The stress of the past few days, the fear and uncertainty that had been gnawing at me, all of it melted away in the heat of Ciaran's embrace.

But then, like a bolt of lightning cutting through the haze of desire, his words finally registered in my mind.

Our mate.

I jerked back, breaking the kiss. My chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath, my lips tingling from the passionate exchange.

"Wait," I gasped, pressing a hand against his chest to keep some distance between us. The rapid beating of his heart under my palm matched my own frantic pulse. "What... what did you mean? About me being your mate?"

Ciaran's eyes, still glowing with that otherworldly light, locked onto mine. The hunger in his gaze made me shiver.

"Exactly what I said," he replied, his voice low and husky. "You're our mate, Tess."

"Our mate?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean by 'our'? And how can I be your mate? I'm human, Ciaran. I'm not... I'm not like you."

Ciaran’s lips curled into a slow, predatory smile, his silver eyes glowing with an intensity that tugged at something primal deep inside of me. It was a look that promised answers—dangerous, intimate answers—but ones I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

Without a word, he reached down, his fingers brushing softly against my arm. The simple touch sent a shudder racing up my spine, making it impossible to focus on anything other than the heat that radiated from his body, the way his presence seemed to engulf mine entirely.

"Let me show you," he murmured, his voice low and velvety, wrapping around me like a caress. He took a step closer, his chest nearly brushing mine.

Before I could react, his warm hands trailed up my arms, slow and deliberate, stirring the air between us. Gently, he moved behind me, the sensation of his body so close to mine, but not quite touching, making every breath feel tight in my chest.

"Turn around," Ciaran whispered, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of my neck. His hands found my shoulders as he gently guided me to face one of the large windows in the dimly lit classroom. I blinked, watching the glass shimmer and ripple as his shadow magic transformed it into a perfect, reflective surface.

I swallowed hard, captivated by my reflection, but even more so by the dark, smoldering glow in Ciaran’s eyes as they watched me from behind. His hands slid down to my hips, firm but unhurried, his fingers pressing just enough to make me lean back into him. I shouldn't want him this badly. Not when I still had unanswered questions. But every fiber of me screamed to close the gap between us.

"Where do you feel it?" he asked, his voice a raspy whisper that vibrated through every part of me. His lips barely brushed my earlobe, sending a shiver through me.

I blinked, struggling to focus. “Feel what?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His hands moved in a slow, deliberate pattern over my shoulders and down my arms, as if he wanted me to feel every millimeter of space between us dissolve with his touch.

"The pull, Tess," he murmured, his voice low and intoxicating. "The pull that tells you we are bound." His fingers lightly brushed the top of my shoulder blade, sending my pulse into overdrive. My skin tingled beneath his touch.

I sucked in a sharp breath as Ciaran reached for the loose button-down shirt I wore over my tank top, gently sliding the fabric off my shoulder. His eyes never left mine in the reflection, watching every flicker of emotion that passed across my face.

"Here," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper as his thumb traced lazy circles over my skin just beneath my shoulder blade. The contact sent a shockwave of awareness racing through me, so visceral, so primal, that I swore my knees might give out. The warmth spread—a slow, glowing heat that had nothing to do with the nearness of his body. It was something older, something deep, something magic.

He shifted me so I could see my back in the glass.

I glanced at the reflection, my breath catching as I saw it—a gorgeous, magical tattoo, or at least that's what it looked like. It was a coiled dragon, its iridescent scales shimmering faintly on my shoulder blade, encircling a shadowy flame that flickered as if it had a life of its own.

“The dragon symbolizes your bond with Thalon. And this,” he said, his fingers grazing the shadowy flames, making them briefly glow brighter, “is mine. My mark. It appeared the moment I kissed you. It’s a part of you now, forever, a symbol of our bond.”

My heart stuttered. My mind raced, trying to process the enormity of what this meant. Mate? It was too much, too soon, but my body… my body understood in ways my mind couldn't yet accept. I could feel it in the way my skin burned with need under his fingers, the way my breath hitched just by being this close to him.

“I—” I started, but Ciaran’s hands slid down, turning me slowly so that I was facing him now.

He gave me no time to think, no time to argue—I felt the heat of his hand, large and splayed broad across my lower back, pulling me closer once again. His eyes, still glowing silver, bore into mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken—demanding, commanding, but also undeniably full of something deeper. Desire, yes, but there was more—a possessiveness, a yearning. Something ancient, something irrevocable.

“Tess,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “This isn’t just about what I want. It’s about what we are. You feel it too. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to say something—anything—but the words didn’t come. Because he was right. I did feel it. I had felt a pull towards him ever since our first encounter in the shadowy corners of the Library, a gravity that defied reason. But to accept this… to accept being someone’s mate ? A Fae’s mate, especially? The implications of it all rushed at me like a tidal wave.

“I don’t understand,” I confessed softly, my voice trembling as I attempted to regain some semblance of composure. “How could I be your mate ? How could we be—”

Ciaran’s fingers found my chin then, tilting it up ever so slightly so that I could no longer avoid his gaze. His eyes softened for a brief heartbeat, a vulnerability flashing there that I hadn’t expected. Something that told me beneath the centuries of experience, power, and darkness, there was a man just as scared of this as I was.

“We don’t choose these things, Tess. The Fae… we don’t fall in love like humans do. It isn’t gradual, it isn’t something we can control. It’s magic, binding us to those we are meant for—those the universe has designed as our other half. And you…” He paused, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip, wickedly soft, sending another pulse of heat through me. “You, Tempest Whittaker, are mine. You have been ever since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

I felt the room grow impossibly smaller, or maybe it was just the force of what he was saying. My knees wobbled slightly, but Ciaran’s arm tightened around me, keeping me upright, keeping me tethered to the moment when everything was irrevocably changing.

“I…” My voice faltered.

Ciaran’s hand hovered over my cheek, tracing a line down to my jaw, his touch unbearably gentle. His eyes still held that predatory gleam, but behind it, I caught a glimpse of something more—something raw, vulnerable, even if it was buried deep within layers of darkness.

"You're not the only one marked, Tess. You're not in this alone."

Before I could question the meaning behind his words, he stepped back slightly, his hands leaving my body, and I instantly felt the loss of his warmth. My skin buzzed in the absence of his touch, and my heart pounded in anticipation of what was coming.

With a measured, deliberate motion, Ciaran reached for the hem of his dark shirt, lifting it effortlessly over his head in one fluid motion. The firelight from the sconces on the walls flickered, casting shadows over the hard planes of his muscles. His chest was a canvas of taut, smooth skin.

But my gaze was drawn to the shadowy flames coiling protectively around a central dragon, etched in black and silver across his tanned pectoral muscle, right over his heart. It shimmered faintly under the light—an intricate design reflecting the very flames that decorated my own shoulder, yet uniquely his.

I gasped, taking an involuntary step closer. My fingers reached out before I could stop myself, brushing over the mark as though to confirm it was real. Ciaran's skin was warm beneath my fingertips, the marking fused seamlessly with his flesh, not raised as I had expected—more like it had always belonged there, as much a part of him as the steady heartbeat beneath.

"This," he said softly, his voice velvet but edged with steel, "appeared the moment you touched my soul in a way no one ever has. The moment I recognized you for what you are, Tess. My mate. Fate sealed us the same way it marked me."

I stared at the mark, transfixed—not just by the way it looked, but by the feeling it evoked. There was a magnetic pull between us, something almost tangible hanging on the air, connecting us in ways I hadn’t fully grasped until now. I could feel the echo of my own mark, the way it seemed to hum in response to his.

Ciaran’s breath hitched suddenly, and his eyes flickered, narrowing as he glanced toward the classroom door. His body tensed, the energy between us shifting in an instant to something more alert, more guarded. Without letting go of me, he leaned in close, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear.

"Someone's coming," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, yet the weight of his words pressed against my skin like a warning. "You can't tell them, Tess. Not yet."

His fingers tightened on my waist, grounding me, his silver gaze searching mine with an urgent intensity. "Keep this between us. No one can know about our bond—not until the right time."

"What?" I barely had time to process his words, still reeling from everything he'd just revealed. My heart thundered in my chest as I stared up at him, mouth dry, confusion and desire tangling in a knot I couldn't hope to unravel. "But why—"

"Trust me," he said, voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "Not yet." His hand slid up to cup my cheek one last time, his thumb brushing against my skin in a fleeting, almost tender gesture. Then, before I could respond, his entire form seemed to shimmer, the shadows wrapping around him like a cloak. With one backward glance, his glowing silver eyes met mine, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

The room fell silent, the absence of his presence leaving the space feeling colder, emptier somehow. I stood there, breath shallow, heart pounding, trying to make sense of what had just happened. I absently adjusted my shirt. My shoulder still tingled where his mark lingered, a constant reminder that none of this—none of him —was a dream.

Before I could even begin to gather myself, the door to the classroom swung open with a soft creak, and Mason stepped inside.

"There you are," he said, his deep voice steady and calm, though I caught an edge of concern in his tone. "I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay?"

I swallowed hard and forced a smile, still shaken by what had just transpired. "Yeah," I murmured. "I'm fine. Just... lost in thought, I guess."

" More like crashing emotional waves ," came Thalon's sudden mental chime, his voice carrying that teasing lilt.

I bristled internally at the dragon’s commentary but tried to keep a straight face. Mason didn’t need to be caught up in this too. “Shush,” I shot back through our bond, hoping he’d take the hint to stay quiet.

"Well," Mason said, "if you need to talk, you know I'm here, right? I know this is a lot. You don’t have to carry any of this by yourself." His gaze was warm, steady, full of something solid and reassuring. A stark contrast to the storm that had surged between me and Ciaran only moments ago.

Thalon hummed, “ Of course you aren't alone. You have me. ”

It was going to take a while to get used to Thalon’s commentary in my head. Trying to ignore him, I nodded to Mason. "I know," I whispered.

He tilted his head, the soft light catching in his hazel eyes, making them shimmer in shades of forest green and amber. Despite the easy calm he radiated, I knew Mason could sense something stirring restlessly beneath my surface. He'd always been uncannily perceptive.

“Anyway,” Mason said. “Class is about to start. We don’t want to be late.”

Class. Right.

It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, I had become the first person ever bonded to a dragon. Me , out of all people. And now, here I was, on my first day as part of the Dragon Rider Applicants' training. Not that it was going smoothly, of course. This morning, I’d already been pushed around during physical training by some of the other recruits who clearly didn't think I belonged here.

Then there was the meeting with the headmaster and Silvius. That meeting had been a nightmare in itself—Silvius's icy glare boring into me like I was some kind of stain on the Guild's legacy. Then, this whole thing with Ciaran. It was a lot.

And somehow, I still had one more class to get through today.

I blinked, forcing myself to refocus. "Alright. Lead the way."