The book called to me.

I know how that sounds. Crazy. Melodramatic. But standing in the restricted section of Thornwood Academy's library at 2 AM, I swear I could feel it humming beneath my fingertips before I even touched the spine.

Don't.

The warning flashed through my mind, but my hand was already moving.

The leather was warm. Too warm, like something alive. Ancient symbols I couldn't read seemed to shift in the dim light, rearranging themselves when I wasn't looking directly at them.

I should put it back.

I pulled it from the shelf instead.

"You shouldn't be here."

I spun around, clutching the book to my chest like a shield. The voice had come from everywhere and nowhere, echoing off the towering shelves that disappeared into darkness above.

"Who's there?"

Silence.

My heart hammered against my ribs. The library was supposed to be empty. That's why I'd snuck in—to find answers about the strange dreams that had been plaguing me for weeks. Dreams of fire and shadow. Of a voice calling my name in a language I'd never heard but somehow understood.

Elena.

Just like that.

"This isn't funny." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Show yourself."

A laugh, low and dark, rolled through the shadows. "Demanding. I like that."

He materialized from the darkness like smoke taking form. One second, empty space. The next, a man stood between me and the only exit.

No. Not a man.

Whatever he was, he wore the shape of one beautifully. Sharp cheekbones. Jaw that could cut glass. Hair black as ink falling across a forehead that belonged on a Renaissance sculpture. But his eyes—

His eyes burned like molten gold.

"What are you?" The words escaped before I could stop them.

He tilted his head, studying me like I was something fascinating and unexpected. "The more interesting question, little scholar, is what are you doing with that book?"

I glanced down at the tome still pressed against my chest. The symbols on the cover were definitely moving now, glowing faint red.

"I was just—"

"Stealing from the restricted section?" He took a step closer. The shadows seemed to move with him, clinging to his shoulders like a living cloak. "That particular text hasn't been opened in three hundred years. And you just... walked in and took it."

Three hundred years.

"I didn't steal anything. I was researching."

"At two in the morning. In a section that requires faculty clearance you definitely don't have." His lips curved into something between a smile and a threat. "Try again."

I lifted my chin. I wasn't going to let some supernatural pretty boy intimidate me, even if my knees felt like water.

"Fine. I'm looking for answers about the dreams I've been having. Satisfied?"

Something flickered in those golden eyes. Interest. Recognition. Hunger.

"What kind of dreams?"

"None of your business."

He laughed again, and the sound did something dangerous to my spine. Made it want to arch toward him like a cat seeking warmth.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"Everything in this library is my business." He was closer now. When had he moved? "I've been guarding these books since before your great-great-grandmother was born."

I should have been scared. I should have been running.

Instead, I felt a spark of something reckless ignite in my chest.

"Then you're doing a pretty terrible job. I walked right in."

His eyes widened slightly. Then he smiled—really smiled—and it transformed his face from intimidating to devastating.

"You walked in because something wanted you to." He reached out, and I flinched, but he only traced a finger along the book's spine. The symbols flared brighter at his touch. "This book chose you, Elena."

My blood went cold.

"I never told you my name."

"You didn't have to." He met my eyes, and the gold seemed to swirl like liquid fire. "I've been waiting for you for a very long time."

The book grew hot in my hands. Not painful, but warm enough to feel alive. The symbols were definitely glowing now, casting red light across both our faces.

"That's impossible. We've never met."

"Not in this life."

This life.

The words hit me like a physical blow. Fragments of my dreams crashed through my mind—fire consuming a castle, a woman screaming, hands reaching for someone through smoke and shadow.

And eyes. Golden eyes, filled with anguish.

His eyes.

"Who was I?" My voice came out a whisper.

He was so close now I could feel the cold radiating off him. Not human cold. Something older. Deeper.

"Someone I lost." His voice had gone rough, the teasing edge stripped away. "Someone I've been searching for across centuries."

"That's insane."

"Is it?" He cupped my face, and his touch sent lightning through my veins. "Then why does this feel like coming home?"

It did.

God help me, it did.

The book pulsed between us, and suddenly I was seeing—remembering—things that couldn't be mine. A moonlit garden. Whispered promises. His hands in my hair, his mouth on my throat, the terrifying beautiful truth of what he was.

I know you, I thought. I've always known you.

"Elena." He breathed my name like a prayer. "Say you remember."

I opened my mouth—

The library doors crashed open.

"Step away from her, demon."

The spell shattered. He released me, spinning toward the intrusion with a snarl that was decidedly not human. His shadows exploded outward, and for one terrifying second, I saw what lurked beneath the beautiful mask.

Wings. Darkness. Something ancient and terrible and magnificent.

Then it was gone, and he was just a man again, facing down the three figures in the doorway.

I recognized them. Professor Hartley from my Occult Studies class. Dean Morrison. And between them, a woman I'd never seen before, silver-haired and radiating power like heat from a furnace.

"Kael." The silver-haired woman's voice dripped ice. "You were warned what would happen if you approached her."

Kael. His name echoed through me, unlocking something buried deep.

"She came to me," he said. "The book called to her. You can't stop what's already begun."

"Watch us."

Professor Hartley raised his hand, and light blazed from his palm—pure white, blinding. Kael hissed, throwing up an arm to shield himself.

"Elena, come here." Dean Morrison's voice was urgent. "Now."

I should have moved. Should have run to safety, to the people who were clearly trying to protect me from the monster in the shadows.

But the book was still warm in my hands.

And Kael's eyes found mine across the chaos, burning gold, filled with centuries of longing.

Remember, they seemed to say. Remember what we were.

"Elena!" The silver-haired woman's voice cracked like a whip. "That book will destroy everything you love. Put it down and come to us."

My fingers tightened on the leather.

Kael smiled, slow and dangerous and full of dark promise.

"Or," he said softly, "you could open it."

The book pulsed in my hands. My dreams screamed through my blood. Every rational thought told me to drop it, to run, to forget I'd ever stepped foot in this cursed library.

But rationality had never been my strong suit.

I opened the book.

Light exploded from the pages—not white like Hartley's magic, but deep crimson shot through with gold. It wrapped around me like chains, like wings, like a lover's embrace.

And through the chaos, I heard Kael's voice in my mind, intimate as a kiss:

Finally. Now we begin.

The last thing I saw before the light consumed me was his smile.

The last thing I felt was the bond snapping into place between us—ancient, unbreakable, absolutely forbidden.

And somewhere deep inside, in a place I'd never known existed, something answered.

Something that had been waiting for him too.