Page 23 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

Tess

The sanctuary's careful quiet exploded the moment I felt Mason coming. Even through the protective wards, his magic slammed against the boundaries—wild, desperate, barely leashed. The bond between us, muted and wrong since the collar, suddenly roared back to life.

I gasped.

Kane's head snapped toward the door, his own magic bristling. "That's—"

"Mason," I whispered. My heart tried to punch through my ribs. The mate bond thrummed with his emotions—fury, panic, and a protectiveness so fierce it hollowed out my chest. I could feel him following our connection like a lifeline, pulled by something older than thought.

Through the walls, Ciaran's voice. Low. Measured. Speaking to someone just outside.

Then footsteps. Heavy, purposeful strides I'd know in my sleep.

Kane rose, positioning himself between me and the door. Fluid. Ready. Not defensive, exactly, but his magic hummed beneath his skin like a warning.

When Mason appeared in the doorway, all of Kane's careful positioning became irrelevant.

Mason filled the frame. Massive shoulders nearly brushing the sides. His dark eyes swept the room once before locking onto me with laser focus. The relief that crashed through the bond stole my breath, followed immediately by barely leashed rage that prickled across my skin.

His magic was everywhere—pressing against the walls, crackling in the air like a storm barely held in check. Stone dust drifted from his clenched fists. I could see the effort it was taking him not to tear the room apart.

"Mason," I breathed.

That single word broke him.

He crossed the room in three long strides, dropping to his knees beside the bed with a thud that shook the floor. His hands hovered over me, trembling, as if he was afraid I might disappear.

"Tess." My name came out broken. His dark eyes roamed over my face, cataloguing every bruise, every sign of exhaustion. When his gaze caught on the fading marks around my throat where the collar had been, his jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind.

"I'm okay," I whispered, reaching for him. "I'm safe."

His hand closed around mine with desperate gentleness, callused fingers intertwining with mine like he was anchoring himself to reality. The contact sent warmth flooding through the bond—his relief, his love, his absolute determination to never let anything hurt me again.

"I felt it," he said quietly. Voice thick. "The bond went quiet, and then... pain. So much pain." His free hand moved to hover over my ribs, not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the heat of his palm. "I couldn't reach you."

The raw anguish in his voice made my throat tight.

Through the bond, I could feel the echo of what he'd experienced—the sudden muting of our connection when the collar had locked around my neck, followed by the distant but unmistakable sensation of my terror and pain.

He'd felt every moment of helplessness. Every second of not knowing if I was alive or dead.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, squeezing his hand. "I'm so sorry you had to feel that."

Mason's eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, they were bright with unshed tears. "Don't apologize. Not for surviving." His thumb traced gentle circles over my knuckles. "Never for surviving."

Behind him, Kane stepped back. Giving us space. The strategic part of my mind noted the gesture—Kane, who controlled every variable he could, willingly ceding ground to Mason's greater claim. It should have felt awkward, territorial. Instead, it felt... right. Like pieces settling into place.

Mason's gaze never left my face, drinking in every detail as if memorizing proof that I was real. "When the bond went quiet, I thought..." He stopped. Swallowed hard. "I've never felt anything like that. Like part of my soul just... disappeared."

The confession hit me like a physical blow. I'd been so focused on my own trauma, my own shame, that I hadn't fully considered what Mason had endured. Feeling our connection severed without warning. Then experiencing echoes of my pain through whatever fragments remained.

"I felt you, though," I said softly. "Even with the collar. You were still there, just... distant. Like hearing your voice through water." I brought our joined hands to my chest, pressing his palm over my heart. "You never really left."

Something in his expression cracked open, and he leaned forward until his forehead touched mine. His breath was warm against my skin, carrying the familiar scent of stone and safety that had always meant home.

"I followed it," he murmured. "The bond. Even muted, I could feel the direction. Ciaran found me about halfway here, said he'd been expecting me."

That made me blink. "Expecting you?"

Mason nodded slightly, not pulling back from our intimate position. "Said something about mates and inevitability. Didn't argue when I told him I was coming whether he helped or not."

A soft chuckle came from the doorway. Ciaran leaned against the frame with his arms crossed, silver eyes holding an amused glint as they took in the scene—Mason kneeling beside the bed like a guardian, our hands clasped between us, the way we seemed to exist in our own bubble.

"The mate bond is not easily ignored," Ciaran said, his Irish accent lending music to the words. "Especially when one half is in distress. I merely provided... guidance."

Mason's gaze flicked to Ciaran. Something passed between them—acknowledgment, maybe even gratitude. "Thank you."

Ciaran inclined his head slightly. "She is precious to all of us, a rúnsearc. Protecting her means protecting what matters most."

The casual endearment made my cheeks warm, but I was too exhausted to examine the implications. The adrenaline that had carried me through the conversation with Kane was fading, leaving behind bone-deep weariness that made my eyelids heavy.

Mason must have felt it through the bond because his expression immediately shifted to concern. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine," I protested weakly. Even I could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

"No, you're not." Gentle but implacable. "You're running on fumes and stubbornness. Let me help."

Before I could argue further, he was moving with careful precision. One arm slipped beneath my shoulders while the other supported my legs, lifting me just enough to slide onto the bed behind me. Brief spike of pain through my ribs, but it faded quickly as Mason settled me back against his chest.

Achingly familiar—me curled in the circle of his arms, his warmth surrounding me like a shield against the world. His magic hummed beneath his skin, and I felt my own responding, the golden fire in my core flickering stronger.

"Better?" he asked softly, his chin resting on top of my head.

I nodded, already feeling the tension bleeding out of my muscles. The mate bond pulsed between us, steady and sure, carrying his strength and calm directly into my exhausted system. For the first time since waking up in this sanctuary, I felt truly safe.

"The others?" I asked, suddenly remembering. "Draven and Kane—"

"Are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves," Ciaran interrupted smoothly.

He pushed off from the doorframe and moved into the room with that predatory grace that marked him as decidedly not human.

"In fact, I was just about to suggest that everyone remain here for the evening.

The wards are strong, and after today's.

.. excitement... it seems prudent to stay together. "

Kane raised an eyebrow. "Suggest?"

Ciaran's smile was sharp around the edges. "I find that word less threatening than 'insist,' don't you?"

Tense silence. Then Kane actually huffed out something that might have been a laugh. "Diplomatic of you."

"I have my moments." Ciaran's gaze shifted to me, expression softening. "Rest. Tomorrow will bring its own challenges, but tonight you are safe."

His voice washed over me like a gentle wave, and I felt my eyes growing heavy despite my best efforts to stay alert. Mason's hand moved in slow, soothing circles over my back, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling me toward sleep.

"I should check on Draven," I mumbled, fighting the pull of exhaustion.

"Already handled," Ciaran said. "He's in the kitchen, alternating between pacing and glowering at the tea kettle. Perfectly normal behavior for an incubus processing protective instincts."

That drew a small smile from me. I could picture it perfectly—Draven's restless energy finding no outlet except endless movement and the occasional intimidation of innocent appliances.

Mason's arms tightened around me slightly, a protective cocoon that made the outside world feel distant and unimportant.

Through the bond, I could feel his own exhaustion—the emotional toll of feeling me in danger, the physical strain of following the mate bond across who knew how many miles, the relief that was still too raw and overwhelming to fully process.

"Sleep," he murmured against my hair. "I've got you."

???

I woke to the scent of bacon and something that might have been pancakes, wrapped in warmth that felt like safety made tangible. Mason's arms were still around me, his breathing deep and even against my hair. The mate bond hummed between us, steady as a heartbeat, flooding me with his calm.

For a moment, I let myself exist in that space—no thoughts, no fears, just the simple reality of being held. But consciousness brought awareness, and awareness brought the memory of everything that had happened. The collar. The arena. Kane's fury and the way I'd nearly shattered under it.

Mason stirred as I shifted, his arms tightening reflexively before his eyes opened. Those dark eyes immediately locked on my face, searching.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was rough with sleep, but the concern was crystal clear.