Page 25 of Tempest Blazing
"Good," Draven said, his voice carrying easily across the yard despite not being raised. "But you're telegraphing your right hook. Try again."
God. Every muscle seemed to know exactly what it was doing, no energy wasted, no motion unnecessary. Watching him was like watching violence turned into art.
Focus, Tess. You came here for a reason.
But my scattered thoughts had other ideas.
The sparring session ended quickly, his partner yielding with a grin despite being clearly outmatched. They clasped hands briefly before the other applicant headed toward the dormitories.
Which left me standing there like an idiot, staring at Draven as he reached for a towel draped over the fence.
He looked up and caught my gaze, those changeable hazel eyes warming with something that made my stomach flip. "Enjoying the show, love?"
Heat flooded my cheeks. "I was—I needed to—" I cleared my throat, scrambling for my professional voice. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Of course." He draped the towel around his neck but didn't bother putting his shirt back on. Perfect. Because apparently the universe was testing my ability to form coherent sentences today.
I gestured toward a quieter corner of the training yard, away from the other sparring pairs still working through their sessions. Draven followed, and I tried very hard not to notice the way the muscles in his back moved as he walked.
Professional. This is professional.
"So," I began once we'd found a spot near the equipment racks, "I have this interview scheduled for Friday. For the Oral History project."
Draven's expression shifted slightly, becoming more focused. "Oh?"
"With Garanth Kreel." I watched his face carefully, looking for any reaction. "Do you know him?"
Something flickered in his eyes—recognition, maybe concern. "I know of him. Demon, works enforcement for some unsavory types. Why are you interviewing him?"
"The project requires diverse perspectives from the supernatural community. He agreed to participate." I fidgeted with the strap of my bag, suddenly feeling foolish. "Theron thinks it might not be entirely safe."
"Theron's right." Flat. Definitive. "Garanth isn't someone you want to meet alone."
Thank god. "That's actually why I wanted to talk to you. I was hoping... would you be willing to come with me? I know you have experience with security and risk assessment, and I could really use—"
"I'll help you," he said, stepping closer. Close enough that I could smell the clean sweat on his skin and see the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. "But I have a condition."
Of course he does."What kind of condition?"
His voice dropped to that low, velvet murmur that always made my knees unsteady. "Dinner. Tonight. Just you and me."
My brain stuttered. "I—what?"
"No talk of interviews, no talk of danger, no talk of magic." His eyes held mine, and I felt pinned in place by the intensity there. "Just us. Getting to know each other without all the chaos and crisis management."
The proposition hit me like a physical thing. Suddenly I wasn't the one asking for a favor—I was the one being asked. Beingpursued. The entire dynamic between us flipped, leaving me breathless and off-balance.
"That's..." I swallowed hard. "That's your price?"
"Time is the most valuable thing I have right now," he said, taking another half-step closer. "The Guild Trials are in two weeks. Every hour should be spent preparing, training, studying." His smile turned slightly wicked. "But I'm willing to sacrifice that for one evening with you."
Oh.The implication hit me like a revelation. He was willing to sacrifice preparation time—time that could mean the difference between passing and failing—for dinner with me.
"One evening where you're not the librarian on a mission, and I'm not the applicant trying to prove himself worthy. Just Tess and Draven, figuring out what this thing between us actually is."
My heart hammered against my ribs. This thing between us. He was acknowledging it, naming it, putting it out in the open where I couldn't pretend it didn't exist.
"I..." I started, then stopped. Part of me wanted to retreat into safer territory, to keep things professional and uncomplicated. But a larger part—the part that had been watching him spar with fascination, that felt something flutter every time he called me 'love'—wanted to know what would happen if I said yes.
