Page 2 of Tempest Rising

I sucked in a sharp breath as Ciaran reached for the loose button-down shirt I wore over my tank top, gently sliding thefabric 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 whatweare. 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. Ididfeel 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’smate? 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 yourmate? 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, TempestWhittaker, 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 thefeelingit 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 ofhim—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.

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