Page 1 of His Temptation

PROLOGUE

SIOBHAN

Fifteen Years Ago

The stone gargoyle perched at the roof’s edge loomed over the darkened campus below, its grotesque features frozen in a permanent grimace. A biting autumn wind cut through the night, making the midnight sky above the boarding school feel endless, sharp with the crisp scent of fallen leaves and distant rain. Siobhan Harrington breathed in deeply, tilting her face upward, letting the moonlight brush over her skin. She was at home in the dark.

Behind her, Isolde Fitzwilliam huffed as she climbed the last few steps of the fire escape, her boot scraping against the stone. “I swear, if you let me fall to my death, I’ll haunt you forever.”

Siobhan turned, offering a hand. “You wouldn’t die from that drop. Maybe a broken ankle, if you’re unlucky.”

Isolde scowled, gripping Siobhan’s fingers and hauling herself onto the rooftop. She dusted off the pleated skirt of their school uniform, the maroon-and-gold plaid a sharp contrast to the deep black of the night. “Says the girl who moves like a damn cat. Some of us aren’t as graceful, you know.”

Siobhan hid a knowing smile, settling onto the cool slate tiles with her legs stretched in front of her. “Then maybe you should practice sneaking out more often.”

Isolde flopped beside her, stretching out on her back, arms folded behind her head. “No need. That’s why I have you. Besides, I’d never have found this view without you.” She sighed, a contented sound, her gaze locked on the vast stretch of stars overhead. “It’s almost magic, isn’t it?”

Siobhan followed her gaze, letting the night swallow them whole. “Almost.”

A moment of silence passed between them, comfortable and thick with unspoken secrets. Isolde broke it first, turning her head to study Siobhan’s profile. “You always disappear at night. You’re never in bed when I wake up.”

Siobhan’s lips curled slightly. “Maybe I just like the quiet.”

“You’re lying.” Isolde’s voice softened, pressing gently. “Tell me the truth, Siobhan. Where do you go?”

For a heartbeat, Siobhan considered brushing her off. But Isolde had been her only genuine friend at this wretched place—one of the few people who didn’t look at her like she was too distant, too sharp-edged, too different. She had learned, early on, that trust was a dangerous thing. But sitting here, under the glow of the stars, she wanted—for once—to give a piece of herself to someone else.

“There are things in this world, Isolde,” she said, staring at the sky. “Things that don’t belong to just one world. Beings who walk between them, who are never truly human, never truly beast.”

Isolde propped herself up on her elbows, interest flashing in her hazel eyes. “Like magic?”

Siobhan hesitated. “Something like that.”

“You mean like fairies? Or vampires? Oh my God, are you about to tell me you’re a vampire? That would be incredible.”

Siobhan laughed softly, shaking her head. “No, not vampires. But something older. Something more dangerous.”

Isolde shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. “You sound like you’re not just telling a story.”

Siobhan looked at her, holding her gaze. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. We Irish love our myths and legends.”

A slow, delighted smile spread across Isolde’s face. “God, that’s fascinating. Can you imagine? Loving a man like that?” She flopped onto her back again, staring at the stars as if she could conjure him into existence. “Someone with that kind of power. That kind of danger.”

Siobhan swallowed, her throat tightening. “It’s not as romantic as you think.”

“Why not?”

“Because men like that don’t offer safety, Isolde.” Her voice dropped to something softer, something edged with warning. “They don’t love the way you want them to. They consume. They take. They destroy.”

Isolde turned her head, studying Siobhan carefully. “You sound like you’ve known one.”

Siobhan forced a laugh, but it tasted bitter. “I told you—it’s just a story.”

A cloud passed over the moon, casting a long shadow across the roof. Siobhan shivered, but it wasn’t from the wind. It was the knowledge buried deep inside her, the truth she could never speak aloud. Because it wasn’t just a story.

She had seen what true power looked like. She had lived in its shadow, heard the whispers in the dark. She had felt the pull in her blood, the unrelenting demand of her own nature.

And someday, she knew, she would have to face it again.

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