Page 72 of Tempest Awakening

His crisp, white button-down shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, revealing toned forearms. Over it, he wore a fitted leather vest in rich, dark brown that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered at the waist, accentuating his athletic build. Dark, flexible trousers disappeared into knee-high leather boots, practical for both classroom and dragon riding. A wide belt with small pouches completed the ensemble.

The whole effect was... distractingly attractive, if I was being honest. Shaking myself out of those thoughts, I focused on the silence between us. It was deafening, filled only by the sound of our footsteps and my pounding heart.

Theron's jaw was clenched, his emerald eyes fixed straight ahead. The tension rolling off him was almost palpable, and I found myself searching for something, anything, to break this uncomfortable quiet.

"So," I ventured, my voice sounding too loud in the stillness, "I guess you drew the short straw, huh? Escorting the troublesome human and all that."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to kick myself. Why did I say that? I usually tried to fade into the background, not draw attention to myself. But something about Theron's brooding silence made me want to... poke the bear, so to speak.

Theron's steps faltered for a moment, and he turned those intense eyes on me. I almost wished I'd kept my mouth shut. Almost.

"This isn't a joke, Ms. Whittaker," he said, his low voice sending an involuntary shiver through me. "Do you even understand the gravity of your situation?"

I bristled at his tone. "I'm well aware of the challenges, Instructor Blackwell."

Where was this coming from? Normally, I'd be nodding and agreeing, trying to smooth things over. But Theron's dismissive attitude sparked something in me. A need to prove him wrong, to stand up for myself.

He scoffed, and suddenly the floodgates opened. "Are you? Dragon riding isn't some fantasy adventure. It's life and death. Your lack of magical background puts not only you but everyone around you at risk."

We rounded a corner, and I had to brush against him to avoid colliding with a passing student. I ignored the jolt that ran through me at the contact.

"I'm committed to rigorous training," I countered, lifting my chin defiantly. "I'll work twice as hard to overcome any disadvantages."

The words came out stronger than I'd intended, but I didn't regret them. There was something about arguing with Theron that made me feel more... alive. More myself.

Theron's eyes bore into mine, and I felt pinned in place by his gaze. "It's not just about hard work. You'll be under constant scrutiny as the first human rider. One mistake, one moment of weakness, and you'll destroy years of progress in human-supernatural relations."

We paused at an intersection, our bodies turning towards each other in the heat of the argument. I was acutely aware of how close we were standing, of the faint scent of pine and something distinctly masculine that I could only assume was uniquely Theron.

"Or," I said, meeting his gaze steadily despite the flutter in my stomach, "my success could open up new possibilities for cooperation and understanding."

Theron's jaw clenched. "And what makes you so sure you'll succeed? Do you truly believe you can maintain a proper bond with a dragon? Understand their needs, their nature?"

The accusation stung, but I held my ground. "My bond with Thalon is real. I feel it, even if I can't explain it."

"Feelings," Theron spat the word like a curse. "Feelings won't save you when you're thousands of feet in the air with nothing but scales and wings between you and certain death."

We resumed walking, the hallway narrowing even further. I could feel the heat radiating from Theron's body, our arms almost touching. It was... distracting.

"I know the risks," I said quietly. "But I also believe this is where I'm meant to be. I won't let fear of failure hold me back."

Theron stopped abruptly, turning to face me. In the narrow space, we were mere inches apart. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed his eyes flicker briefly to my lips before meeting my gaze again. The intensity in those emerald depths made my heart race.

"Fear of failure isn't the problem, Ms. Whittaker," he said, his voice low and husky. Was it my imagination, or did he lean in slightly closer? "It's the consequences of that failure that should terrify you."

I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, and for a moment, it seemed like he was fighting some internal battle. His hands clenched at his sides, as if he was resisting the urge to reach out.

Before I could respond, Theron stepped back, gesturing to a door I hadn't noticed.

"We're here," he said, his professional mask sliding back into place. "Remember, in there, every word matters. Choose them wisely."

There was something about Theron that brought out a side of me I barely recognized—someone who stood her ground, who wasn't afraid to speak up. It was unsettling, but also... empowering.

Theron opened the door to the office, and I stepped inside, my heart pounding. The room was a perfect blend of grandeur and warmth—rich, dark wood paneling contrasted with soft, cream-colored walls. Bookshelves lined one side, filled with ancient tomes and modern texts alike. The other wall featured large windows that offered a breathtaking view of the dragon training grounds. At the center of it all stood the Headmaster.

Theron cleared his throat. "Headmaster Northfall, may I present Tempest Whittaker, our new... unique applicant." His voice held a note of tension I couldn't quite decipher. "Ms. Whittaker, this is Headmaster Isolde Northfall.”

She exuded an aura of elegance and authority that made me want to stand a little straighter. Her striking features were framed by long, silvery hair that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight streaming through the windows. When her eyes met mine, I saw a flash of curiosity and... was that approval?

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