Chapter 12 #2
I was about to ask Lunessa about her earth magic—the way those vine tattoos responded during training had been nagging at me all day—
Pippa arrived like a small, red-haired hurricane.
"Sorry, sorry—the conservation lab had a situation with a fourteenth-century binding spell and I had to—you know what, it doesn't matter, I'm here now.
" She dropped into the seat next to Anya, her emerald eyes already scanning the table.
Her curls were wilder than usual, and she was radiating the particular energy of a pixie who'd been elbow-deep in old magic all day.
Her gaze swept from Mason's arm draped behind my chair to Draven sitting across from me, and I watched her eyes sharpen.
Not at Mason. She knew about Mason. The mate bond was established, visible, old news.
At Draven. At the way he was leaning forward slightly, water glass between his hands, his attention resting on me like it had weight.
Pippa's mouth curved.
"So," she said, propping her chin on her hand. "This is cozy."
"Don't," I said.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
"I was just going to observe that the temperature at this end of the table seems significantly warmer than the rest of the hall." Her green eyes flicked to Draven, then back to me. "Must be the sconces."
Heat flooded my face. Mason's thumb resumed its slow path along my thigh—he'd felt the spike through the bond, I was sure of it—and Draven, damn him, just took another sip of water with the ghost of a smile.
Across the table, Anya caught my eye. No smirk. No comment. Just a quiet look before she turned back to her plate.
These people are going to be the death of me.
"Anyway," I said, and Pippa let it go with the air of someone filing information for later use.
She pivoted without missing a beat. "Tess. Have you read anything lately? Because I just finished the most unhinged paranormal romance and I need to talk about it or I'll combust."
"I started the one you recommended," I said.
"Lola and the Millionaires? Kathryn Moon? How far did you get?"
"I got to chapter twelve and then someone tried to kill me, so I got a little behind."
"Excuses." Pippa waved this away. "When you get further—don't read it in public. Trust me."
A sound from the end of the table. Not small—deliberate. A scoff with teeth.
Lunessa set down her fork.
"Don't read it in public is an understatement," she said. "I made the mistake of reading that on a bench outside the training grounds. Kaelthar asked me why my heart rate spiked, and I had to lie to my dragon."
The table went silent. Then Pippa's face split into a grin so wide it was practically feral.
"Wait," Pippa said, leaning forward. "You read—"
"Obsessively," Lunessa said. "Next question."
"You read steamy paranormal romance."
"I read good steamy paranormal romance. There's a difference."
Pippa looked like someone had handed her a wrapped present. "Okay, but if you were reading reverse harem—fated mates or slow burn?"
Lunessa didn't hesitate. "Fated mates is a cop-out half the time. If the author can't build real tension, they slap a bond on it and call it destiny."
Pippa's eyes went wide. "Oh, you have opinions."
"I have standards," Lunessa corrected. But she was smiling now—a real one.
I couldn't help it—I laughed. "So what do you like?"
"Competence," she said. "I want characters who know what they're doing. Who've earned their power. Give me a heroine who's already dangerous and make me watch five people fall for her anyway."
"Yes!" Pippa slapped the table. "That's why Moon does it right—Lola earns every single one of those relationships."
Lunessa's smile widened a fraction. "...How many books?"
Pippa launched into a rapid breakdown, and Lunessa matched her beat for beat—countering recommendations, arguing about character arcs, declaring one book "objectively unhinged in the best way.
" She laughed when Pippa admitted she'd stayed up until three in the morning to finish one.
"Amateur. I did it in one sitting and texted my aunt about it at four a.m. She still hasn't forgiven me. "
I watched them—Pippa's hands gesturing wildly, Lunessa leaning in with her chin propped on her fist—and my chest settled.
This. This was what I was fighting for.
Not just the bond with Mason or whatever was building with Draven. Not just surviving the trials or proving humans belonged here.
This—the way connection snuck up on you sideways. The way Lunessa dropped the sarcasm long enough to be genuinely excited about a book, and how that one crack of sincerity told me more about her than a hundred guarded conversations would have.
The way Pippa could pull laughter out of stone if you gave her long enough. The way Anya's quiet presence anchored without demanding. The way Raze made space feel safer just by filling it.
Found family wasn't something that happened to you. It was something you built. Brick by brick. Conversation by conversation. Moment by moment.
And Lunessa—with her sharp tongue and her quiet softness—she was going to be part of mine. I could feel it.
Dinner broke apart the way it always did—gradually, then all at once.
Pippa said something that made Raze laugh so hard he knocked over his water glass, which made Lunessa lean back with a muttered "amateurs," which made Pippa laugh harder.
Anya gathered her things and touched my shoulder as she passed.
Lunessa left with a lazy two-finger salute in my direction and a "same time tomorrow, or do I need a formal invitation?" tossed over her shoulder.
I grinned. Yeah. She was going to fit just fine.
Mason stood, and the reality of the evening settled over us. Everyone else would drift toward the dorms. He would go the other direction. Back to Silvius's residence. Back to Kali.
"Walk you out?" I said, even though the question was really give me thirty more seconds with you.
He nodded. Stood. Took my hand.
We made it three steps toward the exit when I heard it.
A laugh.
Kane.
My body recognized him before my brain caught up—a lurch of recognition in my chest. I looked before I could stop myself.
He was at a table near the far wall with his team. Leaning back in his chair, white hair catching the sconce light. Selena was close—too close, angled toward him, one hand resting on the back of his chair like she'd already decided it belonged there.
The hurt landed before I could brace for it. A slow, dull ache low in my chest, and the back of my throat going tight. I'd told myself I was past this. I wasn't past this.
And Kane was laughing at something one of his teammates had said. It looked right. Almost.
But I knew his real laugh. And this wasn't it. This was performance—the edges too clean, the timing too deliberate. He was trying. Trying to be fine, trying to be somewhere that wasn't here.
The empty chair. And here's where he'd gone instead.
He didn't see me looking. Or if he did, he didn't show it.
Mason's hand tightened around mine, and I turned away.
We stepped outside into the cool night air. The path split—left toward the dorms, right toward Silvius's residence. Mason stopped at the fork, and I stopped with him.
He pulled out his phone. Checked something. His jaw tightened.
"Everything okay?" I kept my voice low.
"Fine." He locked the screen. Slid the phone into his pocket. "Kali stuff."
Those two words carried weight. Kali, living under Silvius's roof. Mason, stretched between protecting his sister and being here with me. The danger of that arrangement—the constant, grinding pressure of it—and the fact that I couldn't fix it. Couldn't carry it for him.
I wanted to ask. Wanted to push. Wanted to demand he tell me what was wrong so I could help.
But this wasn't the place. Not here, not now, not when he was already holding so much.
I put my hand over his. Squeezed once. I'm here.
He turned his hand over, laced his fingers through mine, and squeezed back. But he didn't elaborate, and I didn't push.
He leaned down, pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then he let go of my hand and turned toward the path that led away from me.
I watched him walk into the dark.
Tomorrow was Threat Assessment.
All teams. Same room.