Page 13 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

Tess

When was the last time I'd gotten dressed up for a man?

Mason's words from our hurried phone call echoed in my mind. "Tess, relax. This is normal for us—for supes. We don't do monogamy the way humans do. Go, have dinner. I trust you." He'd sounded so certain, so unbothered. Like it really was that simple.

Just knock.

I raised my hand to the door, then hesitated.

What if this was a mistake? What if I'd misread everything between us?

What if he wasn't who he seemed? The Guild was supposed to be safe—a place where riders could trust each other implicitly.

But with the intruder having a Guild tattoo, nowhere felt secure anymore.

Every new face could be hiding something.

Every offered friendship could be a trap.

Thalon's voice slipped into my thoughts, warm and reassuring. " Little one, you're overthinking again. Draven is one of the good ones. Just be yourself. "

I sent back a mental eye-roll. " Easy for you to say. You're not the one in heels."

His chuckle was soft in my mind. " No, but I am the one who gets to feel your nerves through our bond. Breathe."

The door opened before I could knock.

"I could hear you thinking through the door," Draven said, and whatever greeting I'd rehearsed died in my throat.

He was barefoot. Wearing gray joggers that hung low on his hips and a sleeveless black tee that showed off the intricate tattoos winding around his arms. His hair was loose, falling in waves past his shoulders, and he looked.

.. comfortable. Relaxed. Like he'd just rolled out of bed, not like he was expecting company.

"Oh," I said, heat creeping up my neck. "I thought we were doing dinner, not... this."

His eyes traveled over me slowly, taking in the dress, the heels, the obvious effort. Something almost concerned crossed his face.

"You look beautiful," he said, and the sincerity in his voice made my cheeks warm. "But I should have been clearer about keeping things casual." He ran a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. "This is my fault."

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."

"But what if—"

"No." His voice was firm but not harsh. "What if isn't the question. The question is: do you trust him?"

Do I trust Thalon? The answer came immediately, without thought. "Yes."

"Then trust his choice." Draven leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding mine.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek.

"You think he doesn't know who you are? What you're capable of?

" His mouth quirked up in a small smile.

"Trust me, he knows exactly what he's getting. "

The tension in my shoulders began to ease, like a knot slowly unraveling. When was the last time someone had spoken about me like that? Like I was something valuable instead of something broken?

"You won't fail," he continued, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "But if you're worried about preparation, I could help."

I blinked. "Help how?"

"Managing stress, reading emotional cues, staying centered under pressure.

" His expression grew thoughtful. "Being an incubus means I've spent years learning to read people—their fears, their motivations, what makes them crack.

And security work taught me how to stay calm when everything's falling apart.

" He shrugged, as if offering to share that kind of expertise was no big deal.

"Dragon bonding isn't just about knowledge—it's about emotional control. We could practice that together."

"You'd do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because we're both competing for the same spots," I said, voicing the practical concern that should have occurred to me immediately. "Helping me could hurt your own chances."

Something shifted in his expression—not annoyance, exactly, but something deeper. More complex.

"Tess," he said, and there was something almost gentle in the way he said it. "Do you really think I see you as competition?"

The question caught me off guard. "I... what do you mean?"

"You're bonded to a dragon. You have a connection that most of us can only dream of achieving." He leaned back, but his eyes never left mine. "I'm not competing with you. I'm hoping to prove myself worthy of joining you."

Joining me? The words, so casually spoken, sent a ripple of something hot and unexpected through me. The idea that someone like him—confident, capable, dangerous—wanted to stand beside me rather than against me made something flutter deep in my chest.

Oh. The distinction hit me with unexpected force. Not competition—partnership. Not rivals—potential allies.

"Besides," he added, his voice dropping to that low, warm tone that always made my pulse quicken, "I like the idea of spending more time with you. Even if it's just studying."

"I'd like that," I said, and meant it. The knot of anxiety in my chest had loosened considerably just from talking to him. "Really. Thank you."

"I'm sorry," I said suddenly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

"About my assumptions. When I found out you were an incubus, I.

.." I gestured vaguely at the hoodie, the casual dinner, the complete absence of seduction.

"I had all these ideas about what tonight would be like.

What you'd expect. I was so ready to defend myself against advances that never came. "

His expression softened, something almost vulnerable flickering across his features. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and for just a moment, I saw a flicker of old hurt in his eyes before he looked away.

"You're not the first person to assume that," he said quietly. "Most people hear 'incubus' and think I'm just waiting for an opportunity to..." He shrugged, but I could see the weight of it there. "It gets exhausting, always being seen as a predator."

"But you're not," I said, and the certainty in my voice surprised us both.

"You're just... you. Making me feel comfortable and beautiful without any agenda behind it.

" I pulled the hoodie sleeves over my hands, using the soft fabric as a comfort anchor.

"I don't think I realized how much I needed that. Just to feel normal for a few hours."

Draven's smile was warm, genuine—not the practiced charm I'd seen him use with others, but something softer. More real. "Good. We can start as soon as you want. Work on some breathing techniques, maybe some visualization exercises."

"That sounds perfect." I pulled my feet up under me, settling deeper into the couch cushions.

The fire had burned lower, casting dancing shadows across his face, and for a moment I just watched him.

The sharp line of his jaw. The way his hair caught the firelight.

The steady, reassuring presence he carried like a shield.

When did I start feeling so safe around him?