Page 12 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

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.

"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. Being pursued. 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.

"The interview with Garanth is important," I said, testing the waters.

"I know. That's why I'm willing to help." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "But everything has a price, love. Even my protection."

The word 'protection' sent an unexpected shiver through me. Not because it felt patronizing, but because it felt... wanted. When was the last time someone had offered to protect me? When was the last time I'd let them?

"Unless you'd prefer to face Garanth alone?" he added, and something in his tone suggested he already knew my answer.

I huffed out a laugh despite myself. "That's not fair."

"Life rarely is." But his smile took any sting out of the words. "What do you say, Tess?"

I looked at him—really looked. The way the late afternoon light caught the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. The confidence in his stance that somehow didn't feel arrogant. The patient way he waited for my answer, as if he already knew what it would be but was giving me the space to choose it myself.

The air between us thickened, charged with possibility.

Strategic caution versus the thrill of saying yes.

My pulse thrummed with anticipation that felt dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

"Okay," I said, the word coming out more breathless than I'd intended. "Yes. Dinner."

His smile widened, transforming his entire face, and something in it made my stomach flip. "My suite. Room 401. One hour."

I nodded, suddenly feeling like I'd just agreed to something much bigger than dinner. "I'll... see you then."

"Looking forward to it, love."