Tempest Hunting (The Dragonne Library #4)

Chapter 1

Tess

I held my breath as the first dragon moved—not a twitch or restless shift, but a deliberate step that cracked stone beneath massive claws. The sound echoed through the arena.

The spell shattered.

Gasps rippled through the stands. Whispers turned urgent. In the Guild officials' section, panicked voices tried to regain control, but their authority felt thin against the ancient power stirring before us.

My pulse hammered in my throat.

Other dragons began to move. Wings shifting. Enormous heads turning with predatory focus. My lungs felt compressed, breath coming shallow.

These weren't random movements. The dragons weren't wandering.

They were choosing.

Beside me, Thalon remained statue-still, but sharp electricity crawled under my skin—his anticipation bleeding through our bond. My fingers tingled with it. Whatever was about to happen carried ceremony. Sacred ritual the Guild had tried to bureaucratize but could never truly control.

The Choosing had begun.

I felt it in my bones. The world was shifting, irreversible.

Another dragon moved. Gray-blue with earth-toned wings that shifted color from slate to amber in the changing light. It walked with enormous deliberate weight, each step sending vibrations through the ground.

Straight toward Mason.

My heart stopped. Actually stopped, then kicked back to life with painful force. Heat flooded my chest as I watched my mate stand straighter, dark eyes fixed on the approaching dragon with an intensity that made my ribs feel too tight.

The dragon was massive, even by dragon standards. It felt ancient, immovable. When it reached Mason, it lowered its great head in a gesture that somehow managed both power and gentleness.

Mason didn't hesitate. His scarred hand reached out to touch the dragon's snout, and the moment of connection punched through our mate bond. Not the full ignition of their rider bond—not yet—but the promise of it. A pulse that started in my sternum and spread outward.

Relief made my knees weak, but my hands were shaking. One of mine is safe. The thought was fierce and possessive and so grateful it hurt.

But before the relief could settle, another dragon broke formation. Sleek and predatory, obsidian scales absorbing light rather than reflecting it. It moved in silence, circling before diving low with hunting-bird precision.

My breath stuttered as it landed directly in front of Draven.

He stood tall, meeting the dragon's gaze without flinching. The dragon tilted its massive head, studying him with curious intensity. I watched recognition pass between them and my stomach clenched tight.

Draven lowered his head in return, the gesture restrained and reverent, each movement held to hard-won discipline. The dragon exhaled, smoke and violet sparks dancing in the air between them, but held its power in check. Still waiting. Still choosing.

Gratitude moved through our bond. It anchored in my chest. He knows what this means. He understood exactly what gift was being offered, and the depth of his appreciation was staggering.

A sudden rush of wind made me turn. I gasped as another dragon descended fast—no ceremony, no circling. Just speed and absolute certainty. Storm-silver with wings that crackled with barely contained lightning, landing with a growl that shook the ground.

It stalked toward Raze, who stared wide-eyed. I could taste his disbelief. That bone-deep shock of someone who had never quite believed they were worthy of extraordinary things.

The dragon touched its snout to his chest. As if the choice had been made long before this moment.

Raze let out a shaky breath almost like a laugh choked on fear and wonder.

He didn't move, didn't reach out, just stood there trembling slightly as the dragon settled beside him with proprietary satisfaction.

The arena buzzed now. Murmurs of disbelief and excitement rippling through the crowd. Energy built around the dragons. I felt it in my teeth, in the roots of my hair. Ancient power stirring to life after too long dormant.

A silver dragon with wings that shimmered in shifting bands of green and violet walked regally through the crowd, movements unhurried and precise. My stomach dropped as I recognized Lyssara, the dragon I'd watched Kane study with such calculated intensity.

She stopped directly in front of him.

Heat flared in my chest. Cold spread down my spine. Kane bowed slightly. Every line of his body spoke of control, of a mind already calculating advantages and possibilities. Lyssara mirrored the bow with regal grace, and rage twisted in my gut.

Kane never looked at me. Not once. He stood beside his chosen dragon as though he'd always known this moment would come, and I hated how perfectly they fit together. How right it looked.

But even as anger burned hot, my shoulders dropped. He's safe. Whatever else Kane was, whatever had happened between us, he was still someone I cared about. And now he was safe. Now he had what he'd always wanted.

I forced myself to scan the rest of the field, and my stomach began to sink.

Not everyone was being chosen. Some applicants still stood alone, watching dragon after dragon pass them by.

Anya was one of them.

I kept watching, hoping—please, someone, anyone—but as minutes passed and more bonds formed, no dragon so much as glanced in her direction. She stayed composed, but I caught the way her shoulders dropped just slightly. That tiny crack in her perfect control hollowed me out.

My throat burned. Anya, who had been nothing but kind when everyone else saw me as an intruder. Anya, who deserved this chance as much as anyone, who had studied and trained and hoped just like the rest of us. The unfairness of it made my eyes sting.

She'd known this might happen, I realized. That quiet acceptance in her posture, the way she held herself braced for disappointment—she'd prepared for rejection.

Somehow that made it worse. The ache in my chest spread.

Selena was also unchosen, and her mask of superiority was cracking. Her eyes had gone narrow and bright with unshed tears, lips trembling despite obvious efforts to maintain composure. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

And Valen—Valen sneered at the proceedings, muttering something cruel under his breath that I couldn't quite catch. His magic sparked around him in angry red flashes, but no dragon so much as glanced his way. If anything, they actively avoided him, giving his section of the field a wide berth.

I couldn't breathe. The realization hit me.

The dragons weren't just choosing strength or magical ability.

They were choosing hearts.

And some hearts, apparently, were too rotten to bond with.

Fury radiated from both Selena and Valen, making my skin crawl. They wouldn't take rejection well. And they'd blame me for it, somehow. They always do.

The air stilled again as the last few dragons found their chosen partners. Twenty dragons, twenty applicants, all standing in pairs that hummed with potential energy. Some of them, my people, stood straight-backed and glowing. Others looked hollowed out, abandoned.

Then Thalon stepped forward.

Slowly. Majestically.

Every eye in the arena turned to him as he moved with fluid grace, scales shifting from obsidian to gold.

He lifted his great head to the sky, and for a heartbeat, everything held. The pause before thunder.

Then he released a single, resonant roar—

—and the sound vibrated through my bones, rattled my teeth, made my heart stutter in my chest.

This wasn't just ceremony.

This was declaration.

We have chosen, that roar seemed to say. And our choices are final.