Page 17 of Tempest Rising

As Anya and I approached the table, my stomach churned with nervous energy. Mason's deep, steady gaze met mine, his brown eyes warm—but it only made the heat in my cheeks worse. The memory of last night barreled into my mind: my fingers trailing over my own skin, my thoughts filled with the curve of his lips, the intensity of Kane's icy stare. My face flushed instantly, and I ducked my head, hoping no one could see.

"Tess, Anya," Mason greeted in his quiet, gravelly tone. His voice alone felt like a soft caress, steadying me while simultaneously sparking that dangerous flutter in my chest.

“Tess,” Kane said, his tone smooth yet distant. His blue-violet eyes swept over me with clinical precision, but there was a slight flicker there—like he was... assessing something. My heart stuttered as I realized he might know. He was Fae, after all, and I'd been told their senses were sharper than most. Resisting the urge to fidget, I fought to keep my expression neutral.

Kane broke eye contact first, motioning around the table. “You’ve met Mason, of course,” he gestured to the gargoyle-shifter beside him, who inclined his head slightly in greeting, his quiet intensity feeling more personal than words ever would. “This is Raze,” Kane continued, nodding to the werewolf with messy blond hair and a lopsided grin that radiated mischief. “Finn,” he indicated the brooding figure across the table, who merely gave a curt nod. “And Zara,” he finished, gesturing to the bouncy pixie who was mid-bite of what smelled like caramel-glazed pastry.

“This is Anya,” I added, gesturing to the tall, willowy redhead beside me. “She’s a friend of mine.”

Zara nearly shot out of her seat, her wings giving an excited flutter. “Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you both!” Her voice was as vibrant as the energy radiating off her. “I’ve seen you around, but we haven’t had a chance to talk yet. How are you finding the training? Isn’t it just thrilling?”

I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s certainly... intense,” I said, carefully choosing my words as I moved to sit—only for Mason’s massive hand to gently catch my elbow, stopping me.

“Tess,” he said softly, his expression serious yet kind, “sit here.” He motioned to the spot next to him, his broad frame making the bench feel smaller than it was. The directness of his request sent a jolt through me—not unpleasant, but very unsettling. I complied, trying to focus on the meal in front of me instead of the way my nerve endings were suddenly hyperaware of Mason’s presence.

Anya took the seat across from Zara, falling into easy conversation, and I was grateful for the temporary distraction. As I settled in, though, Mason leaned slightly toward me, resting his elbow on the table and his free hand casually on my thigh.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t interrupt the conversation around us. His hand rested there lightly, but it was enough to cause sparks to shoot through my body—not from his touch alone but from the thrumming energy of his protective gargoyle magic. My breath hitched as I felt the way his power seemed to assess me, like it was knitting through my muscles and soul, ensuring I was unharmed.

That small, instinctive connection shouldn’t have felt as intimate as it did. It certainly shouldn’t have reminded me of last night—but it did. I could feel my ears burning, my body betraying me as a deep flush rose from somewhere in my core.

“I’m fine,” I managed to reply, my voice only a little squeaky. I swallowed hard, praying he couldn’t feel the rapid pounding of my pulse. He didn’t move his hand immediately, and the warmth of his palm was starting to do dangerous things to me.

Then it got worse.

Kane, who had been coolly observing the room with his usual detached air, suddenly stilled. His sharp blue-violet gaze flicked to me—and then his nostrils flared, a subtle shift that I doubtedanyone else would have noticed. Oh, no. Heat pooling low in my abdomen betrayed me further, and a wave of mortification crashed over me as realization dawned. Kane’s nose was, apparently, as sharp as his mind.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, gleaming with a knowing edge. I panicked, grabbing for whatever thread of self-control I had left.

“I said I’m fine,” I repeated, louder this time, giving Mason a quick, forced smile before deftly sliding his hand off my thigh with as much casualness as I could muster. “Actually, Anya and I were just talking earlier about—” I launched into a rapid-fire story about training, carefully steering attention to the table’s lively ongoing chatter and praying no one noticed the way my hands trembled or the fact that my cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Mason leaned back slightly, his gaze softening when he caught the flicker of embarrassment on my face. He let me shift the conversation without pressing further, though there was something thoughtful in the way he regarded me. Kane, however, was another story. His piercing eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before he shifted his attention back to his food, no doubt planning to revisit this interaction later. The sharp sensation of being pinned under two very different yet equally overwhelming presences made it a struggle to breathe evenly.

I tried to anchor myself, staring at my untouched plate in an attempt to focus on the muffled chatter around me. Thankfully, the flow of the conversation around the table began to ripple outward, and soon, the weight pressing down on my shoulders eased just enough for me to breathe again.

Anya’s tinkling laugh floated through the air, giving the moment a much-needed note of levity while someone across the tablecracked an inside joke I didn’t catch. I pushed my glasses up my nose and let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

"Intense is an understatement," Finn grumbled. "Some of us have been training our whole lives for this, and they're still pushing us to our limits."

I felt a twinge of insecurity at his words, knowing full well that I was far behind many of the other applicants in terms of experience. But before I could dwell on it, Raze chimed in, pausing between bites of his enormous breakfast burrito.

"Aw, come on, Finn," he said, clapping the other werewolf on the shoulder. "Where's the fun if it's not a challenge? Besides, it's not just about raw power or experience. Strategy and adaptability count for a lot too."

Kane nodded in agreement. "Raze is right. The Guild is looking for well-rounded individuals, not just brute strength."

"That's a relief to hear," I said, offering him a small smile. "Though I have to admit, my muscles might disagree after this morning's workout."

Raze barked out a laugh, nearly choking on his burrito. "Tell me about it! I thought I was in decent shape, but that HIIT workout had me questioning my life choices."

"Oh please," Zara piped up, her wings fluttering with amusement as she nibbled on a piece of fruit. "I saw you breezing through those burpees, Mr. Wolf-man. Some of us don't have the luxury of superhuman strength and endurance."

"Says the pixie who can literally hover through the jumping jacks," Finn grumbled.

Mason chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. "I think we can all agree that Instructor Alvarez is trying to kill us slowly with these circuits."

"Or quickly," I added, remembering the grueling mountain climbers.

"Definitely quickly," Anya muttered, finally speaking up from beside me. Her voice was soft, but her words carried a weight that made everyone fall silent for a moment. She glanced around the table, her violet eyes shimmering with an enigmatic intensity. "But that's the point, isn't it? To make sure only the strongest survive."

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