Page 34 of Gifted Destiny (Hidden Libraries #3)
Zosia
T he gargoyles sense our desire for privacy as we emerge onto the roof. Although the library is the tallest building on campus, I still worry about magical sight or mechanical interference. The stone creatures stretch their wings toward each other and form a barrier, doubling the height of the wall. They seem designed to perform this function because their bodies are the perfect length.
The intricate details of their backs and wings, wrought in tones of shadow and stone, nearly distract me from everything else as we round the dome. Subconsciously, we both seek to be on the other side, which is even more hidden. It also places Ansel on the opposite side of the large dome, although I don’t question why this is important.
Our actions might still be visible from above, but humans and supernaturals forbid the use of mechanical aerial surveillance for mutually beneficial reasons. In addition, the library continues to protect us whether she’s asleep or not.
I’m grateful for the refreshing breeze that finds its way past the barrier. The autumn weather is warmer and more humid than usual. Although I catch snatches of birdsong from the wooded area bordering the campus, human sound doesn’t carry equally. It’s peaceful.
The peace ambiance of our environment is nearly ruined when I realize how intimate it seems. I am more aware of Bren’s presence than I was among the narrow bookshelves. I’m quiet as my brain fumbles for the right words.
“Are you still uncertain of my feelings?” Bren speaks first, his gaze earnest and his voice soft.
My wings rustle in a shrug while I multi-task, contemplating the proper orientation of my body. My intuition suggests that my human form will be able to create mage fire more easily than my sphinx. If my magic isn’t occupied with the inherent supernatural nature of my hybrid form, I will have more energy. I decide to sit with my butt against the dome. This way, I will regain my human legs while sitting in a stable position.
I shift, and a thrill courses through me when my theory proves correct, but I focus my attention on the man in front of me. “Yes and no,” I reply with a human shrug. “I trust you and what you’ve told me, but my mind is continuously haunted. My insecurities always lead me to assume the worst.” I trace the junctions between the smooth stones of the roof while I speak, briefly distracted by the way my senses change when I shift. My senses of smell and hearing have dulled, but my fingertips feel more sensitized.
Bren sinks into a cross-legged position, and I admire the graceful bend of his legs. I can’t mimic him, but I pull my legs closer to my body as he sits alongside me. I can’t maintain this position indefinitely, but I can tolerate it for now. It brings us closer.
“And I’m afraid of making a mistake.”
My head jerks upward. “Mistake?”
“Not in being with you – never that,” he clarifies quickly. “I meant that I’m worried about my actions. Any hesitation on my part might be perceived as rejection, and that’s the last thing I want.”
“I can’t promise that won’t happen either, but I’ll try not to jump to the worst conclusion. Although this place inside my chest is empty, I don’t feel as disconnected from you as I did with your brother. When I first saw you, I struggled with how someone so attractive could want me, but it still felt … natural. Inevitable? I don’t know how to describe it, but I wonder if the bond isn’t already half-finished?” I shrug again, unable to transform my questioning thoughts into statements.
Bren tips his body forward and places a kiss on the tip of my nose. It happens so fast that I am still blinking with surprise when he sits back.
“I know what you mean. I felt an immediate connection to you. It might have something to do with seeing you so many times in my visions, but maybe it’s because the bond had already begun.” He glances away from me. “I’ve been told my entire life that I’m attractive, but I don’t see it. I suppose it’s the same as you.”
I swallow everything I want to say – arguing that it’s definitely different, trying to convince him that he could be a model, and misunderstanding how he can’t see what I see. I know I’m not just biased. I see the way the students look at him. A few are affected by Garrett and Avery, but the distinction is clear. Bren looks like a celebrity, while the other two are predators and might appeal to certain people only. Because the mage is ignorant about his attractiveness, his presence isn’t as intimidating as I thought at first.
I almost argue about beauty being in the eye of the beholder, but all three of my mates have told me I’m beautiful. The library’s aid convinces me they believe their words. And while I’m confident that Kodi is biased, the same can’t be said for the shifter or the vampire.
The stairwell door banging open is unnecessarily loud, and I share an amused glance with Bren. Does Garrett think he’s interrupting a private interlude? It’s been less than ten minutes since we arrived. Color floods my cheeks, and it’s unwelcome after several hours as a sphinx. The twinkling amusement in Bren’s gaze makes the scenario less far-fetched. Perhaps I should have jumped him immediately.
I gape when Garrett rounds the corner. He’s built like a bull but loaded like a pack mule. Along with a huge basket of food and a plush blanket, he has two folding chairs and my crutches tucked under his bulging biceps. I’m grateful for the unfamiliar, utilitarian furniture. It will be difficult for me to sit on the ground for a long time.
“I brought your crutches, too,” Garrett grumbles as Bren hops to his feet to help relieve him of his burden. “I imagine being without your chair or your braces feels a bit like being trapped.” His words are meant for me, but they’re a barely audible murmur as he unfolds a chair.
Warmth fills my chest at his tender thoughtfulness. It grows when he bends over to lift me into the chair and press a kiss to my forehead.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“But you can always call for any of us if you need us, right?”
I nod. He might be overprotective and bossy, but the reminder is helpful. I often forget it’s available.
“Good. I’ll leave you two alone for now.” He glances at the modified gargoyles and nods in satisfaction before turning to leave. Just before he rounds the corner, his steps falter and he whirls around. “Bren! Remember your fifth birthday?” His voice is excited at first, but his tone sobers quickly as the sad memory overcomes the discovery embedded within it. “I think you made mage fire then. You got in huge trouble for it.”
Bren’s expression turns stony as he attempts to recall something he’s tried to forget. I know what it’s like. Even without a completed bond, I feel his pain.
“Addington punished you every time you acted like a typical mage because those skills benefited you more than him. I know you have the ability, though. Control might be more difficult, but ….” He allows his words to trail off deliberately. His suggestion is another iteration of what we already know. A completed mate-bond should provide Bren with more energy to stabilize his power, but the idea is theoretical.
When it’s clear that Bren isn’t going to respond, I speak into the silence. “Thank you for the food, Garrett. Use the link to inform me of any new developments.”
“I’ll pass the request onto the others,” he replies, but he still doesn’t move. “I love both of you,” he says casually, as if remarking on the weather. “It’s not the same kind of love, but it’s still love.” He disappears before either of us can respond.
Bren chuckles at my bemused expression. “I’m not the only one who is socially inept,” he points out. “Sorry. It’s very unromantic of my brother to include me in a declaration of love.”
“It’s not that,” I protest. If I have a thousand texts in my head, why don’t I have a repository of quotes to offer? Bren always has the perfect one, but I can’t even compose a sentence. “I don’t expect romance, and I’m not complaining. It was cute, but we just met and ….” My argument fades away before Bren can begin quoting Shakespeare. Isn’t there one about protesting too much?
“You read a lot of books. Don’t characters fall in love quickly all of the time?”
“Yes. It happens far too often – even for fiction. If it isn’t written properly, it feels ridiculous. I have a similar issue with happy-ever-after endings, though. Life isn’t perfect after marriage. People change, which means relationships change.” I press my lips together. “If I don’t stop speaking now, I could continue this subject for hours.”
“Fiction requires reality, though, right? It’s an elaboration – not a reinvention. I agree that happily-ever-after endings are a tool. They provide closure for the author and readers.” Bren’s tone is conversational as he unfolds the other chair. He sits facing me with his legs nearly parallel to mine. I like the lack of space between us. “I’m uncertain of your argument, though. Do you think someone can’t fall in love in a couple of days, or do you think that someone can’t fall in love with you in a couple of days?”
Ouch. The question is a pointed attack, but I don’t think Bren wants to hurt me. He’s simply pointing out the fallacy in my thinking. I decide not to answer him directly. “This depends on the definition of love; there are too many to count. Some of my wariness is because I’m still adapting to this new world, though. Before I arrived at the library, mates, destiny, and falling in love within days were fictional concepts.”
“You raise a crucial point regarding the definition of love,” Bren agrees. “Most mothers love their newborn children, but this love is motivated by physical hormones and evolutionary drive. The biological imperative to produce offspring similarly drives most adults. Lust can be a component of romantic love, but many claim that romantic love differs from sexual love.”
Bren pauses, but I don’t think he’s waiting for an answer. This is for the best because I’m too distracted by his beautiful eyes. When he holds my gaze for an extended period, I’m always amazed by their color and intensity. No matter the lighting, they are always the same pale green color – another challenge to my understanding of science and biology. I’m uncertain whether the lust I feel toward my mates is purely biological, but it plays a definitive role in my affections.
“Ultimately, love is just a word; it only carries the power we give it,” Bren continues. His voice is naturally soothing, but I don’t have difficulty focusing because his intellect is fascinating. “Let’s compare a declaration of love to the promises we made to each other when we signed our contracts. Most children are taught that love is a worthy goal to strive toward, and I don’t disagree. What if love isn’t as separate as we think? What if it’s just a side effect of life? The promises and commitments we forge in life require intention and dedication but not always love.”
Bren’s brows draw together. I don’t know how to respond without sounding like an idiot, but he’s not finished yet.
"What I actually mean is that while love is a force to be reckoned with, it’s not necessarily a promise. Turning the confession of love into a promise of commitment often causes heartbreak and misunderstanding. Returning to the contracts – this is why I think they carry more weight than saying you love someone.”
His gaze turns apologetic. “Forgive me if this is rude, little lioness, but I think you’re focused on the wrong thing. Rather than questioning the existence of a chemical and biological reaction with little logical input, ask yourself whether you can respect, trust, and depend on the other person for the foreseeable future.”
I blink. How can I be offended when he makes so much sense? “How are you so wise?”
Bren’s lips tilt into a crooked grin, and the sun’s rays reflect off his raven hair. “I can see the future. I can see that the promises we made hold power equal to love.”
My mind whirls, and I have to clamp my jaw to keep the questions from spilling out. Does he mean that we won’t love each other fifty years from now? Do our promises prevent us from going our separate ways even after the love has faded? Or does the current lust-infused infatuation evolve into another version of the emotion? If we’re happy and secure, does it matter?
While the future might be open to interpretation, Bren’s genius is not. I am honored that his contract accompanies mine in the historical record. My grandmother spoke of an ultimate power, and I doubt Bren needs our help to achieve this – whatever it is. His humility regarding the power he wields is endearing and frightening.
I don’t want to possess him or his power, but I want to stand beside him as he fulfills his potential. An image of the contract I signed, blurry at the time but no longer, flares like a neon billboard. I promised to care for the guardians I selected; I promised to protect and serve them as they serve me. This promise includes offering them everything that I am, regardless of my insecurities surrounding what that entails. I can hold out on myself, but I can’t hold out on them.