I tried my best to steer clear of Emilie for the rest of the week, but the girl had a knack for knowing where I’d be… All I wanted to do was my job, but she was making that a little awkward.

“Gideooonnnn… just the handsome lad I’ve been waiting for all my life,” she purred in my ear one day while I was restocking the shelves on the second floor of the library. When I’d first come up here, I’d been elated to see that the stacks were deserted, but now I wished for some company (that wasn’t her) more than anything.

“I’ve been hiding in the library,” I said with a weak laugh and squirmed away from the fingers that kneaded my shoulders with just a little too much familiarity than I was comfortable with. Emilie had only been volunteering with us for a short time, and while I didn’t want to be rude… this was also really uncomfortable.

“Do people tell you that you’re funny?” She asked with a sly smile. All I could do was shrug in reply.

“Not really.”

“Soooo, Gid… I have to ask you something—”

“No. No, no, no,” I said firmly. “No more favors. That last little stunt you pulled put me behind in my work by about three days.”

Emilie sulked prettily and I rolled my eyes.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. He never even called,” she said sadly, but she brightened in an instant as something seemed to occur to her. “I have an idea… why don’t we take off for the afternoon. You’re a nerd; you probably know the best museum in the city. Take me there!”

I stared at her incredulously. “I’m not a volunteer, I can’t just ‘take off’ and go wandering around the city whenever I feel like it. I have a job. Responsibilities.” I narrowed my eyes at her meaningfully. “Have you even had a job before?” That last part probably wasn’t necessary, but I needed her to leave me the hell alone so I could finish re-cataloging the books on the trolley in front of me. Who the hell did she think she was, ordering me around like that?

Emilie leaned on the trolley and trailed her fingers over the cover of the nearest book. I resisted the urge to slap her hand away as she moved to pick it up.

“Don’t you have something to do?” I snapped. I pulled the book out of her fingers and set it onto the shelf.

“Don’t be like that, Gideon, I was just trying to have a little fun. You seem so… uptight.”

“It’s none of your business what I am,” I said shortly. This ‘cute’ little game she was playing wasn’t cute, and I was definitely not in the mood to humor her. All of a sudden, something dawned on me. “Emilie, you’re the only volunteer here today… who’s at the desk?”

Emilie blinked at me vacantly. “Um… no one, obviously. I’m right here.”

“You’re supposed to be at that desk for a reason! You have to sign in patrons and make sure no one walks out with one of the books…” I picked one up and waved it in her face. “These things are priceless!”

Emilie’s eyes widened, as much at my unexpectedly angry tone as at the realization that her attempt at flirting could have much larger consequences.

“Why are you still here? Get the fuck downstairs and get behind that desk! If anything is missing or out of place… I swear to—”

A loud harrumph interrupted my tirade and I looked up—way up—into a pair of pale eyes that burned into mine like ice.

“Posso aiutarti? C-can I help you?” I stammered. My heart hammered in my throat as I took him in. He was tall. Taller than anyone I’d ever met, that was for sure. His hair was scraped back into a neat bun and his beard was trimmed. He was powerfully built, with broad shoulders and muscles that strained against the tailored shirt he wore. My eyes trailed down to his forearms, exposed by his rolled up shirtsleeves. They were covered in tattoos and scars, and I swallowed thickly as I tried desperately to make eye contact again while my stomach churned.

“I need to see Signore de Sarno,” he said simply as he examined his nails. His expression was bored, and I cursed myself inwardly for being so awkward.

Emilie’s eyes were wide, and I pushed her towards the spiral staircase that led down to the main floor. “I don’t know where he is…” Emilie said quietly.

I gritted my teeth. “I’ll go and find him, you need to get your ass back to that desk. I didn’t even see him come up the stairs, he probably isn’t even signed in,” I hissed at her. Emilie scurried away without another word and I turned back to the huge, tattooed man with a lump in my throat. “Can I tell him who is here to see him?”

“I have an appointment,” the man replied. His eyes met mine again and I felt a chill ripple down my spine. All I could do was nod.

“Right. Uh… I’ll send him right up.”

“Run along now,” he said smoothly as he picked up one of the books on my trolley. I paused for a moment, watching him as he turned the pages carefully before setting it on the shelf.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” I said before I could stop myself.

The man turned around and fixed me with that cold stare of his, and I felt my mouth go dry and the lump in my throat turn to concrete. “Oh, really. And are you going to stop me, librarian?”

“How did you get up here anyway? I didn’t hear you come up the stairs, and I know I was alone up here—”

“Has anyone told you that you’re far too talkative for a librarian?”

“All the time,” I replied. The man didn’t return my smile; he simply stared at me and then plucked another book from the trolley and examined the cover.

Silence settled between us, broken only by the creak of the floorboards from the room below. I shifted uncomfortably, knowing that I should fetch Signore de Sarno but not wanting to leave my books with this strange man who didn’t look as though he belonged here at all. I’d seen him before; at least, I thought I had. But I couldn’t be sure. I’d never been able to examine him closely before.

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but the man’s cold gaze stopped me again and my stomach twisted tightly. There was a loud creak as someone climbed the spiral staircase, and I turned to see Signore de Sarno’s wild white hair as he approached. I breathed a small sigh of relief, and felt some of the tightness in my belly begin to uncoil.

“Ah, my friend,” my mentor said with a smile. “Spero tu non abbia aspettato a lungo…” He looked at me meaningfully and I nodded at him, suddenly feeling guilty for not rushing to the archive room to fetch him when I’d been asked.

The man smiled, and I could tell it wasn’t something he did often, for the expression did little to warm the almost sinister nature of his features. The knot in my stomach tightened just a bit more as I watched Signore de Sarno lead him away to one of the hidden reading rooms that held some of our most precious collections.

Released from my obligation, I took my place at the trolley once more and began to shelve the newly repaired and catalogued books in their rightful places. I ran my hand along the spine of the book the man had held only a moment ago, and I could have sworn that it felt cold under my palm.

I was consumed with curiosity. I needed to know who the man was… and why I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his muscles moved under his tattooed skin, and the way his cold eyes pierced through me. My chest felt hot and tight and I was sure that my neck was red by the time I finished re-filing my books and pulled my trolley back towards the ancient elevator.

I passed the room where Signore de Sarno had taken the man; I paused long enough to lean my ear against the door to listen to the man’s deep voice rumble through the heavy wood. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but just the sensation of it gave me goosebumps and caused my breath to catch in my throat. I must have lingered too long, because the man stopped speaking abruptly and heavy footsteps came towards the door.

I pushed the cart frantically away, almost running towards the open elevator door. I flung the cart inside and slid the gate closed. Just as I threw the switch that started the elevator’s motors, I looked up to see the tall man glowering at me, his arms crossed over his muscular chest. I felt my cheeks flaming as the elevator began to move, and I gasped as my stomach tightened again. The elevator slid below the floor and I was saved from the intensity of the man’s gaze; but if the way my heart was pounding in my throat was any indication, I was in deep trouble.

---

Signore de Sarno didn’t come back to the archive room, and I felt somewhat guilty to be locking up our office without saying goodnight. I sent the volunteer home and did a final check of the vast library to make sure that no one was hidden in the stacks or had fallen asleep on one of the map tables. It had happened before, which was why I’d insisted on being the last one out every night so I could double check.

I crept through the deserted main floor, turning off reading lamps and being careful not to make too much noise. If Signore de Sarno and the tall stranger were still in the reading room, I would leave them to whatever business they might have. But if not…

If not, what? Would you try and talk to him again like a complete ass? Maybe scold him for touching the books again?

I rubbed a hand against my forehead, reset my glasses on my nose, and stifled a groan. I was horrible at this stuff. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been on a date. College maybe? I climbed the spiral staircase slowly, listening closely for any sound of voices, but the mezzanine was quiet.

As I placed my foot carefully on the top stair, I heard the door of the reading room open and the deep voice of the tall stranger as he spoke to Signore de Sarno.

“... I’ll return as soon as it is ready and we can speak again about the manuscript. I believe it will be an excellent addition to the collection.”

“Un momento molto eccitante,” Signore de Sarno said hurriedly. “Gideon will be thrilled.”

I would?

“Indeed,” the man replied and I wondered what he meant. And what they were talking about. “Buona notte, Signore,” he continued, “I will be seeing you again soon.”

“Yes, of course.”

My mentor’s footsteps moved towards the staircase at the far side of the room, and I ducked behind a bookshelf to watch him. But where was the stranger? There was no other way out of the mezzanine except the elevator, and I would have heard it by now… I peered into the room, but all I could see were the shadows thrown by the soft golden glow of a lone reading lamp. I switched it off and stood still for just a moment.

I could hear Signore de Sarno moving around on the main floor, but that was it. And then I heard something… like a sharp intake of breath. A cold draft blew across the back of my neck; it sent goosebumps shuddering down my spine and made me jump just a little.

“There shouldn’t be any drafts up here,” I muttered and rubbed my arms.

The sharp sound of the archive room door knocked me out of my curious trance and I ran for the staircase and down to the main floor. “Signore! Signore, don’t lock me in!” I cried into the dark.

I looked back up at the mezzanine; feeling like someone was watching me. But there was nothing but darkness.

“Gideon! Come now, what are you still doing here? Sbrigati!”

“I’m coming,” I said quietly. The silence of the library was comforting, but I was still unable to shake the feeling of being watched. I picked up my bag from where I’d dropped it and met Signore de Sarno at the front doors.

He smiled indulgently at me as I punched in the security code and took one last look at the mezzanine. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow move in the darkness… but that was impossible.

“Is everything all right, Gideon?” Signore de Sarno asked.

“Yes… I think so. I just… it’s been a long day.”

Signore de Sarno nodded sagely and gestured at the black door that led out into the street. “Then it is high time you went home. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

“Of course, Signore. Good night.”

 It didn’t matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the tall man in the library—who was he? Why was he talking to Signore de Sarno so late into the night? And about what?

Curiosity killed the cat...  

I poured some cheap wine into a cracked mug and tried to think about something else, anything but him. Anything but the way his long fingers caressed the leather bindings of the ancient books. Anything but the shiver that rushed up my spine at the thought of his cold eyes. Anything but the way my stomach twisted when he called me ‘librarian’ with a tone of dark disdain and sardonic humor in his voice. What I wouldn’t give to hear him say my name.  

I chuckled at myself and pulled my glasses off so I could rub my eyes. I’d been staring at books for too long. I drained my wine, climbed into bed, and stared out over the lights of Rome.

“Why would I ever go back to Boston?” I murmured aloud.

---

I was alone in the library, and it was dark, except for the glow of one of the reading lamps. “Why are you on?” I asked the shadows.

“I left it on,” the voice came from the darkness and rolled over me like smoke. The words shuddered down my spine and my heart began to beat faster.

“Who are you?” I asked. My question was louder than I’d intended, and I was ashamed of the tremor in my voice. I cleared my throat and asked again, steadier this time. “Who are you? Come out of the shadows.”

“Can you see me, librarian?”

That title again… my stomach twisted. “Yes,” I whispered. I could see him, dark and threatening as he leaned against the bookshelf.

“You can only see me because I want you to,” he said. “Tell me, librarian, do you like being watched?”

I swallowed thickly. “It’s my job to watch the patrons of the library,” I said as boldly as I dared.

“Ah, yes, of course,” he said, and I could hear the ghost of a smile in his voice. “To keep them from snatching pages from your carefully curated collection. Of course. Books banned by the Catholic Church, holy relics and bibles that are centuries old… you worship them, do you not?”

“How can you not? Isn’t this why you’re here?” I was feeling stronger now, but my heart was still beating fast, and I couldn’t control my tongue. It just… said whatever came to mind. “Worshipping something greater than yourself, something more eternal… isn’t that what all men seek?”

“Careful, librarian,” he said softly.

Before I could take a breath, those long fingers that I’d admired were around my throat, and his lips were pressed against mine. I fought him for an instant, but his fingers tightened around and I felt my cock straining against my jeans. My mouth opened under his and I ground my hardening cock against his powerful thigh. I could feel him smile against my lips as he claimed me. He released my throat for just a moment to pull me against the hard wall of his chest, and I could feel the swell of his own arousal pressing against my stomach. I groaned as he raked his hand down the front of my jeans. I was completely under his control… and I loved it. He rubbed harder and faster, and his tongue tangled with mine. He stole my breath and crushed me tightly against him. He devoured me, and I wanted him too. Hot and fast, I could feel my climax building, but I didn’t want to.

I couldn’t… not here… where anyone could see us.

But it was dark, and we were alone. I groaned deep in my throat and thrust against his hand. The man dragged his lips from mine and his voice was soft and strong in my ear as he spoke: “Yes, librarian… give in. That’s what I want. You say we should worship words… but I want you to worship me.”

He bit down on my throat and his teeth were sharp. I cried out in pain, and at the avalanche of sensation that crashed over me as I came… harder and faster than I had ever climaxed before. His dark chuckle filled my ears as I sagged against him.    

 “Wake up, librarian...”

I opened my eyes, hoping to look into those cold eyes and feel the rush they brought me… but instead, it was the bright light of morning and I was lying in a crusted puddle of my own making. I blushed hotly as I remembered my dream, and slammed my face back into my pillow.

Like a bloody teenager.

---

A week passed, and I did my best to forget what had happened. But my dream was hard to chase away, especially because I kept having it. Every night it was longer, and more intense, and every time his voice touched my ears I could feel myself getting hard.

I tried to bury myself in whatever work Signore de Sarno set upon my desk. Transcribing, cataloguing, repairing the bindings on books that required it. But my main focus was the copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Signore de Sarno told me that it was for a patron of the library. A special request, and I put all of my care into its repair, and recorded each page with painstaking detail. It was a fine example; a handwritten, hand-stitched copy of Dante’s masterwork, but it wasn’t enough to keep my mind off of him.

“Gideon,” Signore de Sarno’s voice pulled me from the thick smoke of my distraction and I realized I’d been staring down at the same page for far too long. “Is it finished?”

I looked up at my mentor with a tired smile on my face. “It is.”

“Bene, molto bene,” he said. “Come, the gentleman who requested this work is here now… ready to collect it.”

“Collect it?” I asked, confused. “But I thought this was to be housed in our own collection…”

“It was, but this gentleman is a great patron of the library, and he has asked to… borrow it.” Signore de Sarno smiled and his eyes twinkled at me; but I was suspicious.

“Are you sure?”

“Ah, Gideon,” he replied. “It is not your place to question one of our patrons, as it is not mine.” He held out a square of soft leather and I took it from him warily. “He is waiting for you in the Sala Monumentale. Go now. He is not a patient man.”

I sighed, wrapped the book in the leather and held it gently against my chest. “How will I know who he is, Signore?” I asked. “What is his name?”

“Meilichios… Unimportant. But you will know who he is.”

Great.

“Thank you, Sigore, I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” I said. The last time he had sent me on a mission like this, I had been waylaid for over two hours listening to another ‘great patron’ of the library tell me all about how he regretted not joining the French Foreign Legion in his younger days while he made me bring out every map and battle plan I could reach… and some I couldn’t. I didn’t have time for anything like that today. Like any student of history, I enjoyed listening to the stories of our patrons, but there was a line that had to be drawn somewhere.

I gritted my teeth as I walked past the reception desk. Vittorio was asleep in his chair, and I slapped my hand down on the heavy wooden desk as I turned to enter the Sala Monumentale. “Not the time, Vittorio,” I hissed.

“Scusate!” he hissed back sleepily.

I shook my head and picked up my pace and began to look between the stacks to find the man who was waiting for me. No, not for me. For the book in my arms.  

I felt like a fool asking every white haired gentleman his name. “Meilichios? Signore?” But they all shook their heads. Finally, there was only one aisle left… and the one man I definitely did not have the strength to face occupied it.

Him.