Page 32 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

Tess

The dining hall felt cavernous at this hour, shadows pooling between empty tables like spilled ink.

I'd wandered here without really thinking about it—my suite had felt too small, too quiet, my thoughts spinning in endless circles about tomorrow's training exercises.

The bootcamp days blurred together in a haze of exhaustion and determination, but sleep remained stubbornly elusive.

I was contemplating raiding the kitchen for something caffeinated when footsteps echoed behind me.

"Can't sleep either?"

I turned to find Kane in the doorway, and for a moment, I barely recognized him.

His usually pristine white shirt was wrinkled, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

His hair—normally swept back in perfect order—fell loose across his forehead in pale waves.

Even his posture seemed less rigid, shoulders slightly hunched with fatigue.

The sight of him like this, unguarded and rumpled, sent an unexpected flutter through my chest. God. He looked... human.

"Personal training ran late," he explained, stepping into the hall. His blue-violet eyes found mine across the space, and something shifted in his expression. Less calculating strategist, more... man. "Thought I'd grab something before heading home."

"Let me guess," I said, unable to resist the opening. "You've already exceeded your daily training quota by about three hundred percent, but figured you'd squeeze in a few more hours just to be safe?"

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Only two hundred percent, actually. I'm slacking."

Despite everything—the tension between us, the careful distance we'd maintained since that first day—I found myself grinning. "Oh, well in that case, you're practically a slacker. Should I report you to your father for underperformance?"

The smile faded slightly at the mention of Silvius, but Kane recovered quickly. "He'd probably make me run laps around the entire Guild grounds until dawn."

"Probably?" I raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like you're speaking from experience."

Kane's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Something like that."

The weight in his voice made my chest ache. I wanted to ask more, to dig into whatever shadows followed him whenever his father came up, but he was already moving toward the kitchen area. I followed, watching as he rummaged through the refrigerated storage units with practiced efficiency.

"Ah." He emerged with a plate covered in cloth. "Mrs. Hartwell's apple pie. She always leaves extras."

"The cook?"

"Pastry chef," he corrected, lifting the cloth to reveal a generous slice of golden-crusted pie. "And before you ask—yes, I asked permission to raid her leftovers. I'm not completely without manners."

I laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the empty space. "Here I was, ready to be scandalized by your criminal pie-theft activities."

"Sorry to disappoint." He grabbed two forks from a nearby drawer, offering me one. "Care to be an accomplice?"

The casual gesture caught me off guard. This wasn't the Kane I'd grown used to—the one who maintained careful distance, who spoke in clipped, strategic observations. This was someone softer around the edges, more... human.

"I suppose I could be persuaded," I said, accepting the fork.

We ended up walking the perimeter of the dining hall, sharing bites of pie that tasted like cinnamon and comfort. The darkness wrapped around us like a secret, the quiet making our voices feel more intimate.

The conversation came easier than it ever had before.

Gentle teasing about his perfectionist tendencies, my habit of overthinking everything into knots.

Something about the empty space and hushed atmosphere made it easier to let my guard down, to say things I might have kept to myself in the harsh light of day.

"You know," I said as we paused near the tall windows overlooking the courtyard, "for someone who claims to be slacking, you still managed to outlast everyone else in combat training today."

Kane shrugged, but I caught the faint flush that crept up his neck. "Experience has its advantages."

"Experience, or the fact that you've been training since you could walk?"

"Both, probably." He took another bite of pie, chewing thoughtfully. "My father started me early. Said power without control was worthless."

There it was again—that careful flatness whenever Silvius came up. Not quite bitter, but close. I wanted to ask more, to understand the shadows that seemed to follow him whenever his father was mentioned, but Kane was already changing the subject.

"What about you?" he asked. "When did you first discover what you were capable of?"

I nearly choked on my bite of pie. "Are we actually having a normal conversation about our abilities? Because I'm pretty sure this violates some kind of unspoken rule we've established."

His smile was wry. "Maybe I'm feeling rebellious tonight."

The admission sent warmth spiraling through my chest. "Well, in that case.

.." I considered the question seriously.

"Honestly? Everything changed when I bonded with Thalon.

Before that, I was just... ordinary. But after.

.." I trailed off, remembering that moment of connection, the way power had flooded through me like lightning finding its path.

"It was like waking up to find I'd been sleepwalking my entire life. "

Kane nodded slowly. "I remember the first time I held fire in my palm," he said quietly.

"I was seven. My tutor was trying to teach me basic elemental theory, and I got frustrated because nothing was working.

Then suddenly..." He paused, glancing around the empty hall as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Want to see?"

My heart skipped. "Here?"

"It's just us." His voice was softer now, almost intimate in the shadowed space. "And it's not dangerous. I have control."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Kane held out his right hand, palm up, and closed his eyes. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a small flame flickered to life in the center of his palm. But this wasn't ordinary fire—it danced with shades of blue and silver, casting ethereal light across his features.

"It's beautiful," I whispered.

"Your turn," he said, the flame still dancing in his palm.

I hesitated. My magic was newer, less predictable. But something about the quiet intimacy of the moment, the way Kane was looking at me with genuine curiosity rather than skepticism, made me want to try.

I held out my own hand, focusing on the familiar warmth that lived beneath my ribs. The shadow fire came easier now than it had those first few times—a writhing flame of deep purple and gold that seemed to absorb light rather than cast it.

Kane's breath caught. "Extraordinary."

Our hands were close now, the flames almost touching. I could feel something building between us, a pull that had nothing to do with gravity and everything to do with the magic humming in the air.

"What happens if they..." I started to ask, but the words died as our palms moved closer together.

The moment our flames touched, everything changed.

Power surged through me like lightning, but not painful—electric and warm and completely overwhelming.

I could feel Kane's magic mixing with mine, his controlled precision blending with my wild intuition until I couldn't tell where his power ended and mine began.

The sensation traveled through every nerve ending, setting my skin ablaze.

Kane's sharp intake of breath told me he felt it too—this impossible connection, this merging that shouldn't have been possible between two such different magical signatures.

We stumbled toward each other, the flames in our palms flickering out as his free hand found my waist, steadying me. Or maybe I was steadying him. The magic still crackled between us, invisible now but no less potent.

"Tess," he breathed, my name rough on his lips.

I looked up to find his face inches from mine, those blue-violet eyes dark with something that made my pulse race. The careful distance he always maintained had vanished completely, leaving only heat and want and the electric aftermath of merged magic.

I couldn't say who moved first. Maybe we both did. But suddenly his mouth was on mine, and the kiss was nothing like the careful, controlled Kane I thought I knew.

This was hungry, desperate, like he'd been holding back for far longer than the few days we'd known each other. His hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me closer as I fisted my hands in his rumpled shirt.

When his tongue traced my lower lip, I opened for him without hesitation, and the soft sound he made in response sent heat pooling low in my belly. Magic sparked between us again, weaker now but still present, still binding us together in ways I didn't fully understand.

His other hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone as he kissed me deeper, more thoroughly. I could feel the tremor in his fingers, the careful restraint he was fighting to maintain even now.

Time seemed suspended. The world narrowed to the warmth of his mouth, the solid strength of his body against mine, the way he kissed me like I was something precious and dangerous all at once.

But gradually—too gradually—he began to pull back. The kiss gentled, became almost reverent, before he finally broke away completely. We stood there breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine, hands still tangled in each other's clothes.

"I don't want to stop," he said quietly, voice rough with barely contained want. "But I can't do this."

"Kane—"

"Not right now," he continued, and there was something in his tone that suggested maybe not ever, though he didn't say it aloud. "I can't... this isn't..."

He stepped back, running a hand through his disheveled hair, and I could see the internal war playing out across his features. Want battling duty, desire fighting whatever invisible chains held him back.

"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

His eyes met mine, and the intensity there—conflict and longing and something that looked almost like pain—left me breathless.

"Because everything I touch gets complicated," he said simply. "And you have enough complications already."

I wanted to argue, to tell him I didn't care about complications, that whatever was building between us felt worth the risk. But something in his expression stopped me.

"I need to go," he said, already backing toward the door.

"Kane, wait—"

He paused, hand on the doorframe. For a moment, I thought he might change his mind, might come back and finish what we'd started. Instead, he turned to face me one last time.

"There's something you should know," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "My father—Silvius. You should watch out for him."

The sudden shift in topic made my head spin. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know what he has planned," Kane said carefully. "But he's... he has very strong opinions about humans. About their place in our world. And you're challenging everything he believes simply by being here."

A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool night air. "Are you saying he might try to sabotage me?"

"I'm saying he views you as a threat to the natural order." Kane's jaw tightened. "And he doesn't handle threats well."

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For the warning."

He nodded, then seemed to struggle with something else. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more vulnerable than I'd ever heard it.

"You don't have to do this alone, Tess."

The words hung in the air between us, a promise and a question all at once. But even as warmth bloomed in my chest, doubt crept in around the edges. How could I trust that offer when he'd just pulled away from me? When he'd made it clear that whatever was between us was too complicated to pursue?

"I appreciate that," I said carefully. "But I still need to prove myself. On my own terms."

Something flickered in his eyes—disappointment, maybe, or understanding. "I know you do."

He turned to go, then paused one more time. "Tess?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."