Page 24 of Tempest Blazing
"Because it can't." He was already moving toward his bag, his movements sharp and precise. "We're done for today."
"Kane, wait." I pushed off from the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs. "What just happened? Why are you—"
"Nothing happened." He didn't look at me as he gathered his things. "You need to work on your control. We'll try again next week."
The dismissal cut deep. One moment he'd been kissing me like I was everything he'd ever wanted, and now he was acting like I was a stranger. Like I was nothing.
"I don't understand," I said quietly, hating how small my voice sounded. "Did I do something wrong?"
For just a second, his movements faltered. His grip tightened on the strap of his bag until his knuckles went white against the worn leather. But when he turned to look at me, his expression was carefully controlled, though something wild still flickered behind his eyes—like he was fighting a war with himself and losing.
"Focus on your training, Tess. That's what matters."
The finality in his voice settled over me like ice. Whatever had sparked between us—that moment of raw connection, of magic and want and something deeper—he was already burying it. And I was left standing there, feeling like I'd just lost something I'd never even known I wanted.
Chapter 10
Tess
I shifted in my seat, pen hovering over my notebook as Aelar paced the front of the classroom. Crisis Management Strategies—the kind of class that should've had my full attention, especially given recent events. But my mind kept drifting to that interview I'd scheduled with Garanth Kreel.
Stay safe.Theron's words kept circling back, carrying the weight of his worry and something deeper—something that felt like fear. Not for himself, but for me. The raw intensity in those emerald eyes when he'd made me promise—heat curled through my chest even now.
But I had a job to do. The Oral History project wasn't just busy work—it was important. These stories mattered, even if they came from people like Garanth, who apparently had connections to underground betting rings and God knew what else I didn't want to think about.
"When facing an unknown threat," Aelar continued, his voice carrying that crisp authority that made even seasoned riders sit up straighter, "your first priority is assessment. What do you know? What don't you know? And most critically—what resources do you have at your disposal?"
I scribbled down his words, stomach twisting as they hit way too close to home. What did I know about Garanth? Not much.Demon. Some kind of enforcer. Agreed to meet me way too easily. What didn't I know? Pretty much everything that could get me killed.
And resources...
"The key," Aelar said, stopping mid-pace to scan the room with those piercing blue eyes, "is understanding that you rarely face challenges alone. Effective crisis management relies on leveraging the strengths of your team."
My pen went still. Team. Right.
"Mr. Loto," Aelar's attention shifted, and I followed his gaze to where Draven sat three rows ahead of me. "You have extensive experience in security and risk assessment. How would you approach a situation where you need information from a potentially hostile source?"
Draven straightened, and even from behind, I could see the way his shoulders squared—confident, professional. When he spoke, his voice carried that smooth, controlled tone that always did something inconvenient to my pulse.
"Preparation and backup," he said without hesitation. "You never go in alone, and you never go in blind. Research your subject, understand their motivations, and always have an exit strategy. Most importantly—" He paused, and I caught the slight turn of his head, like he could feel my stare burning into the back of his neck. "—you bring someone you trust to watch your six."
Someone you trust.The words slammed into me.
Draven. Of course. He'd run a security firm before coming here. He understood risk assessment, threat evaluation—all the things I definitely didn't.
"Excellent," Aelar nodded approvingly. "The lone wolf approach is often romanticized, but it's also frequently fatal. Pride and self-reliance have their place, but not at the expense of sound judgment."
I barely registered the rest, my mind already racing. Asking Draven to come with me made perfect sense from a safety standpoint. Maybe he'd actually say yes.
???
The outdoor training yard buzzed with the controlled chaos of afternoon sparring sessions. I'd come looking for Draven, but I hadn't expected to find him like... this.
Shirtless, muscles gleaming with sweat under the late afternoon sun, he moved with fluid precision against his practice partner. Those Polynesian tattoos across his chest and arms seemed to shift and flow with each movement, telling stories I couldn't read but desperately wanted to understand.
I stopped at the edge of the training area. My breathing went shallow.
Draven sidestepped his opponent's aggressive combination effortlessly, hazel eyes tracking every movement with predatory focus. When he countered, it was swift and decisive, sending the other applicant stumbling backward.
