Page 66 of Tempest Rising

Mine to shield. Mine to claim.

With a powerful beat of my wings, I launched us into the air. The ground fell away beneath us as I carried her toward the dormitories. Tess clung to me, her arms tightening around my neck as the wind whipped past us. She didn’t say anything, but I could feel the tension in her body gradually easing. She trusted me. That thought settled something deep inside me, even as my instincts screamed at me to do more. To claim her. To make her mine.

I landed softly on the balcony outside her room, my boots barely making a sound as they touched the stone. Without putting her down, I pushed open the glass door and stepped inside. Her suite was cluttered but cozy, the scent of books and lavender filling the air. Her cat, Whiskey, stirred from its spot on a chair, flicking an ear before settling back into sleep.

I set Tess down gently, my hands lingering on her waist for a moment longer than necessary. She looked up at me, her eyes tired but grateful. “You didn’t have to go all gargoyle mode on me, you know,” she said, her lips quirking into a small smile.

“You were about to collapse,” I said, crossing my arms again. “Someone had to make sure you didn’t.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“You need water,” I said, ignoring her half-hearted protest. I grabbed the glass from her bedside table, filling it in the kitchen before handing it to her. She drank without complaint, but her movements were sluggish, her eyelids drooping.

“You should eat something,” I said, my voice gentler now.

Tess shook her head, setting the glass aside. “I just… need a shower first. I feel gross.”

She tried to stand, but her legs wobbled, and I was there in an instant, steadying her with a hand on her arm. She looked up at me, her eyes soft and trusting, and it took everything in me not to pull her closer.

“Let me help,” I said, my voice gruff. It wasn’t a question. She hesitated for a moment before nodding, too tired to argue.

I led her into the bathroom, starting the shower while she leaned against the counter. The steam filled the small space quickly, and I turned back to find her fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, her fingers trembling from fatigue. My chest ached at the sight.

“Here,” I said softly, stepping closer. “Let me.”

Her gaze flicked to mine, searching for something, and whatever she saw there made her nod. I undid the buttons carefully, my hands brushing against her skin as I worked. Every touch sent a jolt through me, my gargoyle instincts roaring louder with each passing second. She was mine. My mate. The knowledge burned through me, primal and undeniable.

A low growl rumbled in my chest as I slid the fabric from her shoulders, my fingers lingering against the warmth of her skin. The scent of her, soft yet unmistakably hers, filled my lungs,igniting something deep and possessive within me. I wanted to shield her from everything that had hurt her, to ensure nothing ever came close again. But more than that—I needed her to feel it. To know, without a doubt, that she belonged to me just as I belonged to her.

My hand drifted to her waist, my thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against her hip. Her breath hitched, her pulse fluttering beneath my touch, and my gargoyle rumbled in satisfaction. The urge to mark her, to claim her in a way no danger could ever undo, coiled tight in my chest. My lips hovered near her temple, the words nearly spilling free.

Mine. Always.

Instead, I exhaled slowly, grounding myself. She needed care first. Rest. But soon—soon, I would make sure she understood just how fiercely I intended to protect her.

When she peeled off her shoes and slid her pants down her legs, my breath locked in my throat. The soft glow of the bathroom lights traced the curves of her thighs, the dip of her waist, the lush swell of her hips. My cock had been hard as a rock since we entered her space, but now? Now it was damn near unbearable. She was stunning—every inch of her. Strength and softness woven into a form that had haunted my thoughts for far too long.

She stepped under the spray of water, her head tilting back as the warmth washed over her. When she swayed on her feet, I caught her without thinking, my hands firm on her bare skin. “You’re done,” I said, voice rougher than I intended. “You need to rest.”

“I can finish,” she murmured, but I shook my head.

Without a second thought, I stripped off my own shirt and stepped into the shower with her. The water cascaded over us,and I kept my touch gentle as I helped her wash away the grime of the day.

My eyes traced the lines of her body, the curve of her waist, the way her damp hair clung to her skin. She was beautiful. More than that, she wasmine.

“Mason,” she said softly, her voice pulling me from my thoughts. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked, my throat tight.

“For always making me feel safe,” she said, her golden-brown eyes meeting mine. “For being here.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Tess...”

She placed a hand on my chest, right over my heart. My breath hitched. She felt so small against me, but the weight of her touch unraveled something deep inside me. I wanted to pull her closer, to bury my face in her damp hair and lose myself in her scent—something warm and familiar, like honey and midnight rain.

“You’re my anchor, you know that?” she murmured, her fingers tracing slow, absent patterns over my chest. “You’re the one I can always count on.”

My pulse pounded beneath her fingertips. She had no idea what she did to me—how badly I wanted to claim her, to make sure she never doubted how much she meant to me.

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