Tempting Storm

Kai:

The library smelled like age and secrets. Dust hung in the air, swirling in the faint light of enchanted sconces along the high stone walls, motes shimmering like tiny ghosts. The silence was almost suffocating, but I needed it. Needed it to cool down, to untangle the tight coil of fury and fascination that had Lucian’s mocking words twisting through my veins like a knife.

I slouched against one of the massive wooden tables, running a hand through my chaotic curls, pulling it back and releasing it in frustration. My mind wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t shut up. Lucian. That smug, impossible, arrogant bastard. His grin when he’d cornered Isadora in the hall—the sheer calculated cruelty in his eyes—still burned behind my eyelids.

Why did he do it? Why did he have to push her to the brink, to make her cry? And the worst part… the part that shook me deeper than any threat or physical blow, was the way she had crumpled. Her small frame against Silas. The way Rhett had enveloped her in warmth, claiming her in some primal, possessive way while Silas silently watched. The sight had been unbearable. And yet… necessary.

I needed answers.

I rose and moved between the stacks, my boots clicking against the ancient stone floors. The library of Ashwyck Academy was not merely a place of knowledge; it was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers, of texts bound in flesh-toned leather and inky scrolls that smelled of old blood and magic. Some of it mundane. Most of it anything but.

I needed to understand her. Isadora Gravelle. Everything about her made my soul sing, a low hum of obsession, of need, of hunger I couldn’t quench. She was chaos in motion, wrapped in porcelain skin, trembling yet untouchable, brilliant yet terrifyingly fragile. She had drawn every Royal into her orbit, and I couldn’t parse why.

A fae is nothing if not a step ahead. But she… she was beyond anything I had prepared for.

I ran a finger along the spines of the books, sliding past titles in languages I didn’t recognize, scripts older than kingdoms, runes that whispered to one another. One tome fell into my hands, its cover warm under my touch, vibrating faintly as if alive. I opened it, and the pages exhaled a scent like aged honey. The text scrolled across the page, weaving histories of bloodlines that bled power, lineage that could bend reality.

I read and reread, my pulse spiking as if my own heart were trying to escape my chest. She was more than I realized. More than any human—or even fae—should be. Every legend, every myth, every prophecy I had combed through for centuries paled in comparison to the chaos she radiated simply by existing. She was not just a nexus of magic; she was a storm. And every Royal—every damn predator, monarch, and misfit with claims to power—was caught in it like moths drawn to flame.

My hands shook, half with cold, half with raw need. She was… dangerous. And yet, I craved her. My chest tightened with every thought of her—the way she had cried in the hallway, how her small body seemed both fragile and impossibly resilient. Her scent lingered in my memory, the subtle trace of ink and old forests, of wild roses and winter frost. I could almost feel it now, wrapping around my senses like a spell I couldn’t undo.

Why did she do this to me? Why did she make me feel like this?

I slammed the book shut, the noise echoing through the cathedral-like space of the library. I needed control. I needed perspective. But there was no control when it came to her. Every instinct, every sense I possessed, screamed for her. The need clawed at me with claws sharper than any predator’s teeth.

I wandered the aisles like a ghost, tracing the spines of books, letting my fingers brush over scrolls, manuscripts, and vellum older than the castle itself. Each one promised knowledge, promised understanding, and yet I found nothing that could satisfy the madness inside me. There was no map, no lore, no history that could explain her. She was an anomaly, an impossibility, and I hated it.

And yet, I wanted it.

The knowledge that she had Silas and Rhett tangled around her like shadows made something in me snap, a low, dangerous growl vibrating in my chest. I hated that I hated it. That I wanted to watch them touch her, to see her melt into the heat of possession. And worse… I wanted to be the one she turned to. The one she leaned into when the chaos became unbearable.

I leaned against a tall shelf, breathing in the dust and the faint scent of ancient blood magic. My eyes traced the contours of the text, but my mind wasn’t on the words. It was on her. On how her pulse had fluttered when Rhett’s hand brushed her shoulder. On the slight, imperceptible shiver that ran down her spine when Silas’s presence chilled the air around her.

She was a nexus of conflict and desire, a storm that threatened to consume everything in its path, and I was standing too close.

I needed to calm down. I needed a plan. I needed something—anything—to regain the shred of reason that was slipping like sand through my fingers.

I prowled through the shelves, picking up scrolls that whispered of curses and wards, spells of binding and control. Anything to give me leverage. Anything to make sense of the chaos she brought with her mere existence. My hands trembled as I read incantations, words meant to twist fate itself. I could feel the darkness pressing against my ribs, my lungs, my skin. The library seemed to close in around me, walls leaning closer, shadows reaching out like fingers.

And yet… she was the one I wanted. Not the spells, not the scrolls. Her. Her and the chaos she carried with her like a second heartbeat.

I sank into a chair at the edge of the main hall, pulling a stack of books closer. The candlelight flickered across the spines, casting long, dark shadows across my face. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Tried to dissect her presence from the madness it caused.

Impossible.

Her memory was a blade in my chest. I could almost feel the warmth of her skin against mine, the soft, trembling weight of her in my arms, the fragile yet untamable energy that radiated from her. The knowledge that she had touched every Royal, captured every predator, and bent them to her orbit made my heart ache. Made my mind unravel in a thousand directions at once.

I poured over every historical text I could find on anomalies, on fae bloodlines, on mortal-born witches who defied the natural order. None of it fit. None of it even came close. And every page turned made the obsession twist tighter inside me, gnawing, raw, insistent.

I closed my eyes and leaned back, letting my head rest against the edge of the chair. Darkness and candlelight danced across the room, but it was her face I saw. Her wide eyes, her trembling lips, the fragile defiance she carried even when the world tried to crush her. I could see her alone in the hallway, shivering from more than just the cold. I could feel every heartbeat that had ever belonged to her in the air around me.

She was driving me mad.

Not in some cute, fleeting way. Not in the way a fleeting crush might gnaw at a person. She was consuming me. Every thought, every breath, every instinct in my body screamed for her. And yet, she was more than a challenge—she was a threat. A puzzle I couldn’t solve, a curse I couldn’t lift, a fire I couldn’t extinguish.

I wanted to unravel her. Wanted to expose every secret, every fear, every hidden corner of her soul. And I wanted to be the only one who could hold the pieces together.

I slammed a tome closed again, the noise loud, startling even me. I ran a hand across my face, trying to force the thought back into some manageable pattern, but it was useless. She had gotten under my skin, into my blood, into the marrow of me. And I hated her for it. And I wanted her for it.

I prowled the aisles again, letting my fingers brush against every edge, every binding, every text that promised answers. But the only answer I wanted… the only answer I needed… was her.

And she was gone.

Out of reach. Untouchable. Orbiting other men, other predators, other threats. I felt a low, dangerous growl rise in my chest, one that wasn’t entirely mine. Something primal, something animalistic, something ancient and cunning. My hands itched to reach for her, to drag her into the darkness, to make her mine in ways that went beyond reason or morality.

I sank into the floor, the cold stone seeping into me, grounding the madness just slightly. But it was fleeting. The fire inside me was too strong, too insistent. I would have to wait. Plan. Lurk. Manipulate. Tempt. Push. Pull. But I would have her.

One way or another.

Even if it destroyed everything else in the process.

Ashwyck Academy was vast. Filled with secrets. Filled with predators. Filled with opportunity.

And she… she was the storm I couldn’t resist.