Page 7 of Tempest Rising

I smirked, taking the glass from her without a word, the amber liquid catching the light as I swirled it in my hand.

“And you’re as perceptive as ever, though I’d wager you’ve missed more than you’d like to admit,” I replied smoothly, raising the glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. The whiskey burned on the way down, a sharp, grounding sensationthat momentarily dulled the constant whir of calculations in my mind.

She laughed lightly, leaning on the bar as she regarded me. “What brings you here this time? The Guild politics? Or is it that librarian everyone’s whispering about?”

I tipped my head, not surprised in the least. Word traveled fast in a place like this, and Cali had her pulse on the heartbeat of the supernatural world. “I need you to listen, Cali. Nothing too ordinary—ignore the usual grumblings about Rider trials or Guild disputes.” I set the glass down with a softclink. “What matters now are whispers about her. Tempest Whittaker. The librarian with a dragon.”

Her wings quivered faintly, a sign she was trying to mask her curiosity. “Quite the stir she’s causing, isn’t she?”

I gave her a measured look. “Don’t let the intrigue distract you. I need precise rumors, not just idle chatter. Anything tied to her sudden bond, the observers encircling her, and the Guild’s response. I want it all.”

Cali nodded, her expression turning serious for once. “Consider it done. But Kane, a word of advice—this one feels different. Whatever game you’re playing, don’t let yourself get blindsided.”

I pushed the empty glass toward her and stood, adjusting my coat. “I don’t take blind risks, Cali.”

Her laugh followed me as I left. “Just remember, not every secret can be controlled, Ellesar.”

???

The murmur of the town faded into the background as I drove to a secluded clearing beyond Drakehaven, my destination chosen deliberately to avoid prying eyes and enchanted ears. The clearing was quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. The forest stood sentinel around me, its ancient trees casting long shadows in the fading twilight.

I pulled out my phone and dialed with practiced ease, the number etched into my memory yet buried deep enough in my contacts to evade casual scrutiny. Lorcan answered after two rings.

“Just a minute,” he said curtly before the line went dead with an audibleclick.

Typical.

I stepped away from my car, leaning against a nearby tree as I scanned the treetops. It didn’t take long. A sleek raven soared into view, its feathers shimmering with an unnatural sheen under the dim light. The bird landed gracefully on a low-hanging branch, and in one fluid motion, it began shifting.

Feathers melted into flesh, wings folding into arms, until Lorcan stood before me, tall and lean, his sharp features and black-feathered tattoos just as unsettling as ever. He adjusted his jacket casually, as if shifting between forms was the most natural thing in the world.

“Kane,” he greeted, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of mockery. "Meeting in the twilight. Very poetic. You’re almost convincing me you have a touch of romance in you."

I didn’t reply immediately. Timing was everything with Lorcan. A rushed move was akin to surrender, and I had no intention of giving him the upper hand. Instead, I pushed off the tree I’dbeen leaning against, my carefully neutral expression betraying nothing, and took a few measured steps forward.

“Romance,” I said finally, my voice crisp, “is indulgence reserved for moments of certainty. I operate in necessity.”

Lorcan’s sharp laugh broke the stillness, a sound both amused and disconcerted. “Ah, necessity. Such a polite way of disguising desperation.” He tilted his head, studying me as though peeling back layers I kept firmly in place. “But please, don't stop. Your brooding philosophical edge is the stuff of sonnets.”

“You’re stalling,” I said flatly, my hands tucked behind my back as I arched a brow. “And while I’m sure you enjoy the sound of your own voice, I don’t have time for theatrics. I came with a purpose. Do you want to hear it, or should I find someone less enamored with his own wordplay?”

Lorcan’s expression shifted. The smirk held steady, but there was a flicker of irritation behind his eyes. He didn’t enjoy being called out, even in jest. Advantage to me—for now.

He waved a hand lazily, though the gesture had an air of deliberate control. “Fine. Tell me, Kane. What grand scheme brings you slumming out here in the woods with someone of my…reputation?” His lips twitched, the emphasis on “reputation” a self-congratulatory jab.

I didn’t respond to his bait. Instead, I laid the groundwork for what he needed to know—and, just as importantly, what he didn’t. “I need a background check on someone. Tempest Whittaker.”

Lorcan’s brow lifted marginally, his interest piqued despite his attempts to appear otherwise. “The librarian,” he said slowly, his voice like silk unraveling. “The human with a dragon. That didn’ttake long. She’s barely bonded, and already you’re digging. You’re predictable, you know.”

“I’m thorough,” I corrected. “And she’s…unusual.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” He began to circle me, his hands clasped lazily behind his back, his steps noiseless on the soft forest floor. “I hear she waltzed into this world like she belonged and snapped up the prize everyone covets. A dragon,” he said with a faint chuckle. “Not just any dragon. The gold and obsidian dragon. Legendary, even by dragon standards. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Why her? Why now?”

I kept my face carefully blank. “I don’t pay you to wonder, Lorcan.”

“No,” he conceded, stopping his circling to stand before me, his tall, lean frame casting an elongated shadow in the dim light. “You pay me for answers. And I provide them… at a price.”

Which was exactly the moment I’d been waiting for. “Not to worry,” I said, my tone tight but calm. “I’m prepared to compensate you.”

---