Page 62 of Tempest Blazing
"Or maybe we're building a cult?" Raze said, dropping his bag of snacks with theatrical flair. "I've always wanted to be in a cult. Do we get matching robes?"
Laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest, bright and genuine, surprising even myself. "Apparently."
What followed was controlled chaos—chairs scraping across linoleum, pillows vanishing from my bed, and the careful choreography of finding space for everyone without stepping on toes or egos. Whiskey, disturbed from his morning nap, hopped onto the bed and curled into a perfect croissant-shaped loaf, his one eye daring anyone to move him.
I found myself on the floor between Mason's legs, my back against his chest, his warmth seeping through my shirt. When his arms came around me—protective rather than possessive—tension I hadn't realized I was carrying finally began to ease.
Food was dumped unceremoniously on the coffee table—pizza, various snacks that Pippa had apparently raided from thecommon areas, and enough drinks to supply a small army. People started grabbing slices and drinks without ceremony.
Conversation built in overlapping waves around me. Kali and Pippa fell into an animated argument about pineapple on pizza, with Kali firmly in the "absolutely not" camp and Pippa defending it with the passion of someone personally offended by food prejudice.
Kane made a dry remark about optimal cheese distribution that had Draven choking on his drink with laughter. "Leave it to you to turn dinner into a tactical exercise," Draven said, wiping his eyes.
I watched everyone with a strange ache in my chest—this mix of chaos, comfort, and warmth that felt almost too good to be real.
Mason's hand rested gently on my knee, thumb tracing absent patterns that sent small sparks of awareness through me. My found family was here, messy and magical and real.
Kali shifted closer to me, offering another slice of pizza without saying anything. I took it, murmuring thanks, and our eyes met—just for a second—but it was enough. A silent truce. Maybe even the beginning of trust.
Kane quietly refilled my drink without asking, then joined in a surprisingly nerdy side conversation with Pippa about leyline interference and its effects on portal stability. I watched him—how relaxed he was here, even if he'd never admit it—and something in my chest eased. They were all so different, but this worked. Somehow, impossibly, this worked.
"You're weirdly soft now," Kali teased Mason, her voice fond despite the words.
When I nudged him with my foot, he just shrugged. "Not soft. Safe."
As the evening wound down, the plates were empty and the bed was covered in crumbs, something else settled in my chest alongside the warmth. A cold, crystalline certainty that made my spine straighten.
After everything that had happened with the fighting ring, after all the violence and fear and uncertainty—after being so helpless, so weak—I couldn't let that happen again. Not to me. Not to them.
I looked around at these people who'd somehow become mine, and the weight of responsibility pressed down on my shoulders like armor. They'd saved me. Protected me. Fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself.
Never again.
"I need to get stronger," I said suddenly, the words cutting through the gentle chatter. "The final trials are in a week, and I—" My voice caught. "I can't be weak again. I won't."
The room went quiet. Mason's arms tightened around me, but I pulled forward, away from his comfort. I needed to say this.
"Last week, I was completely helpless. You all had to save me, and I—" I swallowed hard. "I never want to feel that powerless again. I need to train harder. Push further. Become everything you already believe me to be."
Draven's expression had shifted, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. "Love," he said carefully, "what does 'strong' mean to you?"
I blinked, thrown by the question. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he continued, voice gentle but probing, "are we talking about surviving? Never needing anyone? Or standing up for what matters, even when it's hard?"
Kane leaned forward, his blue-violet eyes intense. "There's a difference between strength and armor, Tess."
Heat flared in my chest—frustration, maybe, or something sharper. "I don't know," I admitted, the words coming out more vulnerable than I'd intended. "I just know I never want to be powerless again. I want to pass these trials. I want to prove I belong here, with all of you."
"You already belong here," Kali said quietly, and the simple certainty in her voice made something crack inside me.
"Do I?" The question came out smaller than I'd meant it to. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like I'm the one who keeps needing to be rescued."
Mason's hand found mine, steady and warm. "Needing help doesn't make you weak."
"Doesn't it?" I pulled away, restless energy making it impossible to sit still. "Everyone else here is powerful in their own right. Dragons, fae, incubi, gargoyles, werewolves—and then there's me. The human who gets kidnapped and needs a cavalry."
Raze made a soft sound of disagreement. "Tess—"
