Page 18 of Tempest Rising

Finn snorted, the sound thick with disdain. "Seems like a pretty harsh take. The Guild isn't just interested in survival. They're looking for something more... unique."

"Unique or desperate?" Anya countered with a slight smirk. "Depends on how you look at it."

The table fell quiet for a beat, the unspoken tension lingering between Finn and Anya. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure if I should step in or let this play out. But then Zara, bless her pixie heart, broke the silence with a sharp clap of her hands.

"Sooooo!" she said in a sing-song voice, her wings fluttering madly behind her. "Isn't it great how we're all bonding over the shared trauma of HIIT circuits? And here I was thinking the only thing we'd have in common would be our desperation to bond with dragons."

"Trauma does have a way of bringing people together," Mason rumbled, his voice so low it was almost a purr. He shot a quick glance at me with a smile that warmed the pit of my stomach. "And trust me, we've all been through worse."

"Speak for yourself," Raze said with an exaggerated groan. "I've never had to do a burpee in wolf form—and now I feel personally attacked."

Everyone chuckled, the tension dissolving in the wake of Raze’s comedic timing.

As the laughter faded, I glanced down at my half-finished plate and realized that, with all the chatter, time had snuck away from us. A quick glance at the clock on the far wall confirmed my suspicion—class was fast approaching.

Mason noticed my concern. “We should probably wrap this up,” he said. “We’ve got Dante’s class next, and he doesn’t exactly tolerate lateness.”

“Oh, hell no,” Raze said, slapping his hands onto the table, his playful demeanor still intact. “Dante will tear a new one into anyone who dares walk in after the bell. Even if you’re as charming as me.”

Kane arched an eyebrow. "Well then. Let's move," he said, his tone level. The group seemed to take Kane’s lead, and one by one, we pushed back from the table.

Chapter 8

Tess

The hallway buzzed with the usual pre-class chatter. I trailed behind Mason, Anya just behind me, the remnants of our earlier laughter fading as we approached Dante’s classroom. The door stood ajar, and I followed everyone into the dimly lit space.

Mason headed toward a seat near the back, and I followed, about to sit down beside him when a low chuckle, dark and smooth as polished obsidian, sliced through the quiet murmur.

It came from the front of the room, near the large, arched window. The instructor—Dante—was already there, perched on the edge of his desk. He hadn’t been visible at first, blending into the shadows like a predator waiting in ambush, but now, bathed in the sliver of light filtering through the window, his presence radiated a chilling calm. Immediately, I could tell what he was. A vampire.

He watched us, his obsidian eyes glinting, a faint smile playing on his lips. The air thickened with an almost palpable sense of his predatory vigilance. It prickled my skin, making me acutely aware of being observed.

I swallowed, the casual comfort I’d felt with my friends evaporating under his gaze. "Ms. Whittaker," Instructor Dante purred, his voice cutting through the room with unsettlingclarity. "Do join us. We have assigned seats in this class, and Mr. Beaumont has been patiently awaiting your arrival."

My stomach plummeted. This was deliberate. Of course it was.

I plastered a neutral expression on my face and made my way to the assigned seat, ignoring the smug smirk that stretched across Valen's face.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, his red eyes burning into me. "Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence. Did you get lost on your way to the human petting zoo?"

I clenched my jaw, refusing to rise to his bait. "Just taking my time," I replied evenly, placing my bag on the floor and sitting down.

Valen leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Careful,” he whispered, his voice laced with malice. “This isn’t the library anymore. This isn't a place for dusty books and quiet corners. Here, the predators come out to play.” He leaned back again, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “And you, little human, smell like fresh prey.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. I focused on taking slow, even breaths, trying to ignore the way Valen’s words crawled under my skin. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

The classroom filled quickly, the buzz of conversation rising again until Instructor Dante raised a hand, silencing the room instantly. He didn’t stand, remaining perched on his desk, his posture relaxed yet radiating an unsettling authority.

“Welcome back, fledglings,” he began, his voice a smooth, dangerous caress. His obsidian eyes slowly scanned the room,pausing for the briefest moment on me before shifting away. "Today, we have a special guest. Your education on the role of the Dragon Rider Guild—especially in the political climate since The Unveiling—would be remiss without insight into magical artifacts and their delicate use in maintaining balance and influence."

I tensed, the foreboding feeling twisting tighter in my stomach. I already knew who would step through the door before Dante spoke her name.

"Please extend a warm welcome to Aurelia Draevorn, Chief Curator of Magical Artifacts of The Dragonne Library."

My lips pressed together as Aurelia's sharp figure glided into the room—a vision of elegance and cold authority. Her silver hair flowed like liquid moonlight down the back of her pristine purple robes. She wore her power like armor, eyes of silvery-blue narrowing as they scanned the classroom.

And then they landed on me.

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