Chapter 33 STORM GREY EYES
KAI
I reluctantly loosened my grip, helping Lyra steady herself on Tempest’s back. She looked up at me, cheeks flushed, violet curls framing her face in wild disarray, eyes wide and bright with adrenaline and something softer.
“Thanks,” she breathed, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I almost became a very dramatic lawn ornament.”
I managed a crooked grin, trying to hide how affected I was. “Can’t have that. Who would summon the dramatic storms then?”
She laughed softly, the sound light and tired, and urged Tempest back into position. We finished the drill with more care, me pulling punches, her still pushing her limits. Every time our paths crossed, every near-brush of wings or arms, I felt that same spark.
It was getting harder to pretend it was only friendship.
When Ser Thorian finally called an end, Lyra slid down from Tempest on shaky legs. I was there again, steadying her with a hand at her elbow. She didn’t pull away.
“You pushed too hard tonight,” I said quietly as we walked back toward the dorms under the stars. The night air was cool, carrying the distant rumble of resting dragons. “You looked exhausted even before we started.”
Lyra glanced up at me, violet curls catching moonlight. “I’m fine. Really. It felt… good. Powerful. Like I’m finally starting to understand what Tempest and I can do together.”
I stopped walking, turning to face her fully. The lanterns along the path painted her face in soft gold and shadow. “You are powerful. But you don’t have to prove it every single second. Not to my father. Not to anyone.”
She searched my face, her storm-gray eyes soft. “I know. It’s just… everything feels like it’s moving so fast. The visions, the training, the rules…” Her voice trailed off.
I reached up without thinking, gently tucking a loose violet curl behind her ear. My fingers lingered against her cheek, warm skin beneath cool night air. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you. Even if it means going against the rules sometimes. You’re not alone in this.”
For a heartbeat, the air thickened between us. Her breath hitched. My heart stuttered. The pull was magnetic and familiar. Then Tempest’s amused rumble echoed faintly through the bond from the roosts, breaking the spell.
Lyra stepped back with a shaky laugh, cheeks flushed. “We should probably head back before we accidentally summon something real.”
I exhaled a soft laugh, the tension easing into something warmer, safer. “Probably smart.”
We continued walking side by side, shoulders brushing now and then in comfortable silence.
But the memory of holding her, those sparks, the way she fit against me, the way her laugh still made something warm unfurl in my chest lingered like ozone after a storm.
The memory of holding Lyra refused to fade.
Even hours later, as I finished my evening bond time with Zephyr, the feel of her rain-damp body pressed against mine lingered like static on my skin.
The way she had fit so perfectly in my arms, the rapid flutter of her heartbeat against my chest, the soft brush of her violet curls against my jaw, it was all too much. Too real
Zephyr nudged my shoulder with his snout, sending a gentle gust of wind through my hair. You are distracted, rider.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah. I know.”
I should have headed straight to the dorms. Instead, my feet carried me away from the roosts, searching for her. Lyra wasn’t with Tempest, I had checked. The storm dragon had been alone, resting peacefully, which meant Lyra was somewhere else.
Probably chasing answers again.
The cafeteria was nearly empty. No sign of her violet hair or that tired but determined smile. I turned toward the residential wing and knocked softly on her dorm door.
Yvaine answered, short black curls messy, a book still in her hand.
She raised an eyebrow when she saw me. "Kai. Looking for Lyra?”
“Yeah. She wasn’t at the roosts.”
Yvaine smirked knowingly. “She’s in the library again. Said she needed to check something about storm dragons one more time. Good luck prying her out of there.”
“Thanks, Yvaine.”
I made my way to the library, the corridors quieter now as most students settled in for the evening. When I pushed open the heavy doors, the space was still reasonably busy, riders hunched over tables, soft lantern light casting long shadows across the shelves. My eyes went straight to our usual corner table.
Three neat stacks of books sat there, but the seat was empty.
I moved deeper into the stacks, boots quiet on the stone floor. I passed row after row, scanning for a flash of violet. Then I saw her.
Lyra stood on her toes, stretching to reach a high shelf, one hand braced against the wood for balance. Her low braid had loosened again, loose violet curls framing her face and brushing her neck. The black leather uniform hugged her frame, still slightly damp from earlier training.
She looked small against the towering shelves, determined and frustratingly beautiful.
Without thinking, I walked up behind her, far too close for the casual friendship we were supposed to maintain. I reached over her head and easily plucked the book from the shelf, my chest nearly brushing her back.
Lyra dropped back onto her heels with a startled breath and turned. She froze. We were inches apart, trapped between her body and the shelf behind her.
Her storm-gray eyes widened, rising slowly to meet mine. I could see the faint flush creeping up her neck, the way her lips parted slightly in surprise.
She inhaled deeply, chest rising, and I became painfully aware of how close we were,.the warmth of her breath, the faint scent of rain and ozone that still clung to her from training.