Page 12 of Tempest Rising

I stared, transfixed, as recognition dawned. It was Draven—the impossibly handsome incubus I'd seen in class. Water ran in rivulets down his chiseled chest and abs, following the intricate lines of his tribal tattoos. His long, curly black hair clung to his shoulders, framing a face that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves.

For a moment, neither of us moved. I felt a blush creeping up my neck, my heart hammering in my chest. I knew I should look away, but I couldn't tear my eyes from him. The setting sun cast a golden glow on his wet skin, making him look almost otherworldly in his beauty.

Honestly, he looked like Jason Momoa after a glow-up, if that were even possible. How was it fair for someone to be both an absurdly attractive fantasy novel stereotypeandreal? My brain short-circuited somewhere between appreciating his artfully carved abs and noting how the long curls clinging to his shoulders only added to his wet-god-of-waterfalls aesthetic.

Draven's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Enjoying the view, Tempest?" His voice was low and rich, sending a shiver down my spine despite the warmth of the evening.

I blinked, suddenly realizing he'd used my name. "How do you know who I am?"

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "You're the only human to have bonded with a dragon. Word travels fast around here, especially when it comes to someone as... unique as you."

I swallowed hard, finally managing to avert my gaze. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. Thalon suggested I take a walk, and I... I didn't expect anyone to be here."

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "No need to apologize. It's a public river, after all." I heard the splash of water as he moved, and when I dared to look back, he was waist-deep in the river, preserving some semblance of modesty.

"I can go," I offered, though a part of me was reluctant to leave.

Draven shook his head, water droplets flying from his hair. "Stay. Unless my presence makes you uncomfortable?" There was a hint of challenge in his voice, his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement.

I squared my shoulders, determined not to let him see how flustered I was. "Not at all. I came here to clear my head, and I intend to do just that."

"Ah, the upcoming survival challenge weighing on your mind?" He moved closer to the bank, and I found myself tracking the movement of water over his skin.

I nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "Among other things. It's been... an overwhelming day."

Draven's expression softened slightly. "I can imagine. It's a lot to take in, especially for someone new to our world."

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the sound of the rushing river. "You know," Draven said, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "Sometimes the best way to clear your head is to stop thinking altogether."

Before I could ask what he meant, he ducked under the water. When he resurfaced, he was grinning. "Come on, Tempest. The water's perfect."

I hesitated, torn between the temptation of the cool water and the propriety of joining a naked man—much less an incubus—for a swim. "I... I don't have a swimsuit."

Draven laughed, the sound rich and inviting. "Neither do I, in case you hadn't noticed. But if it makes you feel better, I promise to keep my eyes closed."

As Draven dutifully turned his back, I stood frozen on the riverbank. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the hem of my shirt, but my mind snarled with hesitation.

I couldn't help thinking about all the times my mother had pinched the extra bit of weight around my belly, poking at it with mocking disdain. The memory of her voice, dripping with condescension as she joked about "baby fat" that hadn't disappeared with adulthood, echoed in my ears. Even now, I instinctively pulled my arms tighter around myself, as if shielding that part of me.

I glanced at Draven standing casually in the water. It was no secret that Incubi were beautiful; they were supposed to be, part of their demonic allure. Draven was no exception—his body, his face, everything about him seemed carved to perfection, effortlessly sensual. Could he even see someone like me, with my imperfections on full display, and still find me attractive?

Before I could spiral any further, Draven spoke up, his voice carrying over the soft rush of the river. “If you’re worrying about how you look—I can feel your energy, Tempest. You’re more tense now than before.”

I blinked, surprised by how easily he could read me, even from behind. I opened my mouth to brush it off, but he turned back around, slightly shifting so I could see his face. His eyes met mine, softer now, the usual teasing glint replaced with something intensely sincere.

"Let me tell you something," he said, his hazel eyes locking onto mine. "All women, Tess, are beautiful. The softness of their curves, the way their bodies are shaped by life, by experience. It’s not just the physical, it’s their essence. Every woman I look at—or touch—has a different kind of beauty that pulls me in."

Something in his tone made the hairs on my arms rise. It wasn't just a line or smooth talk. His words rang with a deep truth that reverberated somewhere inside me. The heat that had started in my cheeks began to spread through my entire body, but this time, it wasn’t just from embarrassment or insecurity.

He smiled then, easing the tension that had thickened between us. "But if you’re still unsure," he teased, lowering his voice to a playful murmur, "I can alwaysprovethat I find you desirable."

With that, his feet shifted, and he stepped forward into shallower water, where the sunlight caught and revealed more of his form beneath. There was no mistaking the evidence of his desire—a bold, unapologetic invitation that left no room for doubt or question.

I sucked in a breath, caught somewhere between mortification and temptation.

Draven chuckled at the look on my face, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Unless you think this is all just a natural occurrence,” he added with a wink, his confidence never wavering.

It was almost impossible not to laugh, the absurdity of the moment slicing through the lingering insecurities like a burst of fresh air. He wasn't just teasing me—he was giving me permission to feel comfortable as I was. And, surprisingly, I did.

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