Page 53 of Tempest Rising

Kane’s glare didn’t shift, though his voice turned even icier. “Rest assured, Ulrich, I will spend exactly zero seconds thinking about you.”

“Very diplomatic,” Raze muttered with mock sincerity. “I’m so touched.”

Mason’s intervention came before another spat could brew between them. “Enough,” he said simply, his dark eyes settling on me. “You sure you’re up for the first watch, Tess? It’s been… a lot today.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “First watch. I’ll wake Raze when it’s time.”

The night had settled into a still, heavy silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant hoot of an owl. I sat just outside the cave, dagger in hand, the weight of it grounding me.

My shoulder throbbed faintly, a dull reminder of the earlier fall. Kane’s precise hands had bandaged it, but Mason’s quiet strength as he argued against my stubbornness—again—lingered in my mind. He’d carried me like I was something precious, his arms unyielding yet careful. I’d tried to protest, but the look in his eyes had silenced me.

I exhaled, my breath clouding in the cool night air. A year ago, I would’ve laughed if someone had told me I’d be sitting in a forest, guarding a cave, training to become a Dragon Rider alongside a group of supernatural beings.

Back then, I was just Tess Whittaker, librarian extraordinaire, with a knack for finding misplaced books and a penchant for losing my keys. Now I was... well, still Tess Whittaker, but with a lot more scars and a dragon who occasionally gave me cryptic life advice.

The thought of Thalon brought a small smile to my lips. Even when he wasn’t physically present, I could feel the faint hum of our bond, like a thread tied between us, tugging gently at the edges of my awareness. He was somewhere nearby, probablyhunting or watching over us from the skies. The thought was comforting, a reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone in this strange, magical world.

A soft sound from inside the cave drew my attention. I turned, my gaze falling on Mason’s large, sleeping form near the entrance. He was lying close to the fire, its dying embers casting a warm glow over his features. Even in sleep, his body was tense, angled protectively toward the cave’s opening. Toward me.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “Focus, Tess,” I muttered under my breath. “You’ve got a watch to keep, not a brooding gargoyle to ogle.”

I shifted my gaze away from Mason, my cheeks warming with embarrassment despite the chill in the air. It wasn't the first time I'd caught myself staring at him when I should've been focused. There was something about the quiet strength he emanated that drew me in.

My thoughts wandered, drifting toward Kane. He was on the opposite side of the cave, lying with his back against the wall, legs stretched out long in front of him. Even in repose, he looked like he’d marched straight out of some fantasy novel—his sharp features lit by the faint glow of the fire, his white hair falling across his forehead, casting its own shadows on his pale skin.

Kane was a different kind of magnetism. Where Mason was all steady warmth and quiet empathy, Kane was precision and cool control, with an edge that hinted at something deeper.

I frowned, thinking about his kindness earlier that day. It seemed, at times, like he kept himself carefully walled off from everyone, and yet there was this… energy between us. Neither of us said it aloud, but I felt it—this unspoken crackling tension, a gravitational pull that I barely understood. And maybe I didn’twant to. Just thinking about it made my pulse quicken, and my hands tightened on the hilt of my dagger.

After ninety minutes had passed, Raze stirred from his spot near the fire, the soft crunch of dirt under his boots signaling his approach. Without a word, he sank to a crouch beside me, his movements deliberate, the firelight playing off the sharp angles of his face. Shadows stretched long behind him, merging with the dark expanse beyond the cave.

“Go rest,” he said, his voice low and steady, more a suggestion than a command. His onyx eyes glinted in the flickering light, the weight of his gaze calm yet assured. “I’ll take over the watch.”

The dagger in my lap felt heavier as I turned it over in my hands, the hesitation knotting my shoulders. “I’m fine,” I said, the words automatic and unconvincing even to myself.

Raze raised a single eyebrow, his sharp features softening into something like dry amusement. “Your eyelids disagree, librarian,” he replied, though there was no bite in it. “I’ll hear anything that gets too close. My senses are sharper at night.” His tone was matter-of-fact, a reminder rather than an attempt to coax.

As much as I wanted to argue, I couldn’t deny the logic. I was exhausted, plain and simple.

“Fine,” I relented, grudgingly pushing myself to my feet. My legs protested with the stiffness of a body pushed too far, but I steadied myself, meeting Raze’s calculating yet patient expression. “Wake me if anything feels off.”

His lips quirked into the faintest shadow of a smile, gone as quickly as it appeared. “You have my word.”

I hesitated only a moment before moving, stepping over the uneven ground until I reached Mason’s side. I didn't think he'd mind sharing his warmth. And to be honest, I felt safer next to him. The fire’s warmth flickered over us, casting shifting shadows along the stone walls. Slowly, I lowered myself beside him, pressing my back against his solid form. The steady rise and fall of his breaths were a quiet reassurance in the dark.

For the first time in hours, my body leaned toward something resembling rest. My eyelids grew heavy, exhaustion finally dragging at the edges of my consciousness, and I let myself lean into it.

The sound wove its way into my dreams at first, blending with the hazy edges of sleep. A low, guttural noise, distant and unformed. My mind tried to fold around it, dismiss it as the cave settling—stone shifting against itself. But then it came again, deeper this time, edged with something raw.

My eyelids fluttered, drowsiness clinging to me even as awareness crept in. The noise repeated, rough and uneven, dragging me the rest of the way into wakefulness. My body tensed, instinct sharpening my senses. I lay still for a breath, listening, and then I placed it.

Mason.

He was restless, his massive frame fidgeting. His fists clenched, his breathing coming in uneven, ragged gasps. Another growl rumbled deep in his throat, and my stomach twisted. I recognized the sound not as anger but anguish. Whatever haunted him now wasn’t rooted in reality.

“Mason…” I whispered his name, my voice cautious as I propped myself up on one elbow. He didn’t respond, still trapped in whatever nightmare had tightened its grip around him. A faintwhimper escaped his lips, and it tore through me like a sharp blade.

The rocky floor beneath me was unforgiving, but I hardly noticed; my focus was entirely on Mason.

---