Page 11 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

Tess

I stuffed my notebooks into my bag, half-listening to the chatter while my mind kept circling back to Friday. Garenth's interview had its hooks in me deeper than I'd expected.

Mason was gathering his things at the desk beside me, his movements methodical as always. Perfect. Having him there would make everything feel more manageable.

"So," I started casually, slinging my bag over my shoulder, "any plans for Friday evening?"

He looked up, and something flickered across his expression—guilt, maybe. "Actually, yeah. Family dinner with Kali. It's been a while since we've had time just the two of us, you know?"

The disappointment hit harder than it should have, though I tried not to let it show. Of course Mason would prioritize his sister. They'd been through hell together, and their bond was sacred. I couldn't—wouldn't—ask him to change those plans. I'd have to figure something else out.

"That sounds really nice," I said, and meant it. "You two deserve that time together."

His shoulders relaxed slightly, like he'd been braced for me to push. "Thanks, Tess. Is everything okay? You seem... I don't know. Tense."

I forced a smile. "Just the usual—too much homework, too many things to worry about. Nothing I can't handle." The words came easily enough, but my chest tightened with the urge to tell him about the interview. Mason would drop everything to help me if he knew—probably even cancel dinner with Kali.

And that was exactly why I couldn't say anything. He'd already sacrificed so much for other people. His sister deserved his undivided attention, especially after everything they'd been through.

Mason's dark eyes studied my face for a moment longer, and I could practically see him weighing whether to press. Finally, he nodded. "If you need anything..."

"I know. Go study—I can practically hear your textbooks calling your name."

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "They're pretty demanding." He squeezed my shoulder gently before heading toward the library, leaving me standing in the slowly emptying classroom.

Kane was still at his desk, organizing his notes with the same precision he brought to everything else. His white hair caught the afternoon light streaming through the windows, and when he looked up, those blue-violet eyes cut straight through me.

He finished stacking his papers and stood, all fluid grace and controlled energy.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice carrying that familiar note of authority that made something deep in my chest tighten.

"Lead the way."

We walked through the corridors of the training complex in comfortable silence. Well, comfortable for me—Kane seemed lost in thought, his expression more distant than usual. The late afternoon sun slanted through tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors.

Kane led me to one of the smaller practice rooms, away from the main training areas where other students might interrupt. Hardwood floors, mirrored walls, and protective wards humming just at the edge of hearing. But something about being alone with him here made the air feel charged, electric.

"We're going to work on channeling today," Kane said without preamble, setting his bag down near the door. "Your magic is powerful, but it's erratic. You need precision."

I nodded, trying to ignore the way his voice seemed to resonate in my chest. "What do you want me to do?"

"Center of the room. Close your eyes. Reach for your magic—just feel it."

I moved to the center of the room and closed my eyes, trying to quiet the nervous energy buzzing through me. The familiar warmth bloomed, golden and purple threads that felt like liquid fire.

"I can feel it," I said. "Gold and purple, woven together like fire and starlight."

"Good. Now direct it. Don't release—guide it through your body."

I tried to follow his instruction, but the moment I attempted control, the power flickered and sparked unpredictably.

"It's not working," I muttered, frustration creeping into my voice. "It's like trying to hold lightning."

"Your stance is wrong." Kane's voice was sharper than usual, carrying an edge I couldn't quite place. "You're fighting the magic instead of working with it."

I opened my eyes to find him closer than I'd expected, his expression tight with something that looked almost like anger. But anger at what? At me? We'd barely started.

"Show me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Kane moved behind me, and the heat of his body hit me even before his hands settled on my shoulders. His touch was firm, professional, but my skin burned where he made contact.

"Straighten your spine," he said, his voice low near my ear. "Your magic flows better when your body isn't fighting itself."

I tried to focus on his instruction, but his proximity scrambled my thoughts. The scent of him—something clean and sharp, like winter air—flooded my senses. When his hands adjusted my posture, I barely managed to swallow the sharp intake of breath.

"Now breathe," he commanded. "Let the magic follow the rhythm."

I closed my eyes again and tried to obey, but my magic seemed even more unstable now. The golden threads flickered wildly, purple energy crackling at the edges of my control.

"Focus, Tess." Kane's voice was harsher now, definitely angry. "You're letting yourself get distracted."

"I'm trying," I said through gritted teeth, but even as I spoke, I felt my magic surge unpredictably. The warmth in my chest flared hot enough to steal my breath.

Kane's hands tightened on my shoulders. "Try harder. This isn't a game. If you can't control your power—"

"I know it's not a game!" The words came out sharper than I intended, fueled by frustration and the confusing intensity of having him so close. "I'm doing my best."

"Your best isn't good enough." His voice was cold, cutting. "Not if you want to survive what's coming."

Something about his tone lit a fire in me. I reached deeper for my magic, pushing past the resistance, and suddenly the golden threads steadied. The purple energy wove through them more smoothly, and I felt the power flow down through my arms exactly the way Kane had described.

"There," I said, opening my eyes with a small smile of triumph. "For how long I've been doing this, I think I'm doing pretty good."

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I'd stepped in it. Kane went completely still behind me, his hands freezing on my shoulders. When I turned to look at him, his expression had shifted into something sharp and dangerous.

"You think you're doing pretty good?" His voice was mocking, biting in a way that made my stomach clench. The blue-violet of his eyes seemed to burn as he stared at me.

"I just meant—"

"You don't even understand the danger you're in." He stepped around to face me, his voice dropping to something low and intense that made the air between us feel electric. "You have no idea what you're dealing with."

I should have stepped back. Should have put distance between us. But something about the way he was looking at me—like I was both precious and infuriating—kept me rooted in place. Instead, I lifted my chin and met his stare.

"Then tell me," I said quietly. "Help me understand."

Kane moved closer, and I found myself backing up until my shoulders hit the mirrored wall. He didn't touch me, but he was close enough that I could see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, close enough that his presence seemed to surround me completely.

"You think a few weeks of training makes you ready for what's out there?" His voice was rough, raw with something I couldn't name. "You think your pretty magic tricks will protect you from the kind of people who would tear you apart just to see what makes you tick?"

"I don't think that," I whispered, but my voice came out breathless. "I know I have a lot to learn. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm training with you."

Something flickered across his expression—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. "You shouldn't trust me," he said, but his voice had lost some of its edge. "You shouldn't trust any of us."

"But I do." The words slipped out before I could stop them, honest and unguarded. "I trust you."

Kane went completely still. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved, neither of us breathed. Then something in his expression cracked, and I saw something raw and desperate flash through his eyes.

"Damn it," he breathed, his voice rough with disbelief. "You trust me?"

The space between us collapsed. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes, and I saw the exact moment his control shattered.

And then he was kissing me.

Not gentle. Not tentative. Fierce, desperate, like he'd been holding himself back for too long and finally snapped. His hands framed my face, fingers threading through my hair, and I could taste the frustration and want on his lips.

I should have been shocked. Should have pushed him away. Instead, I melted into him, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as I kissed him back with equal desperation.

The magic in my chest exploded, golden threads pulsing through me, each heartbeat sending sparks of purple energy racing along my skin. It felt like our connection was igniting something deeper, something that had been waiting just beneath the surface.

Kane's body pressed against mine, pinning me to the mirror, and I could feel the tension in every line of him. His kiss was consuming, demanding, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn't say into the connection between us.

Then something changed. His hands against my face went rigid, his fingers suddenly too still. I felt his breath catch, felt the shift in his body from desperate need to something that felt like shock—or fear. His mouth stilled against mine, and for a heartbeat, I could swear I felt him tremble.

Then he was stepping back so abruptly that I nearly stumbled. His face had gone pale, his expression shifting from passion to something that looked almost like horror. The sudden absence of his warmth left me cold, like stepping from sunlight into shadow.

"Kane?" I reached for him instinctively, but he stepped further back, putting more distance between us.

"This was a mistake." His voice was cold, controlled, completely different from the raw desperation of moments before. "This can't happen."

The words slammed into me, stealing the breath from my lungs.

A mistake? The kiss that had felt like everything suddenly meant nothing?

My chest ached with something that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the way he was looking at me now—like I was something he needed to escape.

"What? Why—"

"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.