Page 27 of Tempest Blazing
I don't know how to do this. The thought hit me like a slap. I didn't know how to be casual with someone I was attracted to. I didn't know how to just... exist without armor. Especially not now, when every interaction felt like a potential threat assessment. When I couldn't tell friend from foe, and the weight of that uncertainty pressed against my chest like a physical thing.
"Come in," he said, stepping aside. "I have something for you."
His suite smelled like him—that clean, masculine scent that always made me want to lean closer. What struck me most was how lived-in it felt. Books stacked on tables, workout gear tossed over a chair. Real. Human.
"Here." He disappeared into what I assumed was the bedroom and came back with a soft gray hoodie. "You might want this later."
I stared at the offered sweatshirt. "I'm sorry?"
"You look like you're dressed for armor, not comfort." His smile was gentle, understanding. "And I have a feeling you might want to be comfortable later."
The hoodie was warm from his dresser, soft cotton that would definitely smell like him. The offer felt intimate in a way I hadn't expected—not seductive, exactly, but... caring. Like he was thinking about my comfort instead of just how I looked.
God, when had I gotten so cynical? When I'd first heard he was an incubus, I'd braced myself for the inevitable—the sultry looks, the calculated touches, the pressure to give in to whatever supernatural allure he possessed. I'd built up all these walls, prepared all these defenses. And here he was, offering me a hoodie.
I took the hoodie and held it against my chest, breathing in that clean, warm scent before I could stop myself. The fabric was impossibly soft, and something in my chest loosened. "Thank you."
"Food's almost ready. Nothing fancy—just burgers and fries. Hope that's okay."
Burgers and fries. Not the candlelit dinner I'd been nervously anticipating. The contrast hit me like a gentle slap, dismantling every assumption I'd made about this evening.
"That sounds perfect," I said, and meant it.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting cross-legged on his couch in the hoodie and my dress, my heels abandoned by the door. The sleeves were too long, covering my hands completely, and the fabric wrapped around me like a hug. It did smell like him—clean and warm and oddly comforting, like I was wearing a piece of his protection.
For the first time in weeks, my shoulders weren't tight with tension. The constant vigilance I'd been maintaining—watching every shadow, analyzing every word for hidden meanings—had exhausted me more than I'd realized. But here, wrapped in his hoodie with a burger in my hands, I felt something I hadn't felt since the rumors of traitors started circulating: safe.
The burgers were surprisingly good, but what really surprised me was how easy it felt. How natural.
"So," he said, stealing one of my fries with a completely unrepentant grin. "Tell me about the Trials."
I nearly choked on my cider. "What?"
"The Guild Trials. They start in two weeks." He leaned back against the couch cushions, watching me with those changeable hazel eyes. "I'm assuming you're nervous about more than just the written exams."
How does he— "I thought we weren't talking about Guild stuff tonight."
"I said no talk of interviews, danger, or magic," he corrected. "But the Trials? That's about us. Both of us. Our futures." He paused, taking a sip of his cider. "Unless you'd rather pretend they're not happening."
The gentle challenge in his voice made something in my chest tighten. He wasn't pushing, exactly, but he wasn't letting me hide either.
"The Compatibility Sessions," I said quietly. "Those are on Fridays, right?"
"Every Friday until the Trials officially begin. It's a chance for applicants to prove they can work with the dragons—not just ride them, but actually partner with them." His expression grew more serious. "Some people think it's the most important part of the whole process."
My stomach clenched. "And if you can't prove compatibility?"
"Then you don't advance to the practical trials." He said it matter-of-factly, but I could see the weight of it in his eyes. "No second chances."
No pressure at all. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping the oversized hoodie around them. "What if I'm not enough?" The words came out smaller than I'd intended. "What if Thalon realizes he made a mistake choosing me? What if I get to the Compatibility Session and just... fail?"
The fear had been gnawing at me for weeks, growing stronger every day as the Trials approached. I was the first human Dragon Rider. The only human Dragon Rider. What if that was because humans weren't supposed to be riders at all?
Draven set down his cider and shifted on the couch, angling his body toward me. "Tess."
Something in the way he said my name made me look up.
"Dragons don't make mistakes about their riders," he said quietly. "Not about something that important. If Thalon chose you, it's because you're exactly what he needs."
