“What about participation—what does that entail?” Raph asks.
“Once they begin helping the communities, we hypothesize they’ll be invited to community-based events, which will be a good opportunity to show face and prove that even warring species can fall in love.” Draven says, looking over at Gemma.
“Parties, celebrations, things of that nature?” Raph cocks his head.
“Precisely,” Draven clarifies.
“When can they start this work?” Luc asks.
Gemma smiles in a devious way that has my stomach doingnervous acrobatics. “They’re going to start today. This afternoon, once they’re done practicing, the rest of The Devil’s Masquerade will have set up a grocery distribution pop-up, where they’ll serve meat and other items not covered by the government.”
“Can we help set up this booth?” I ask. It’s not that I’m selfless and want to assist a bunch of people that likely hate me, but I desperately want to avoid another training session with Tempest. My body is still sore from hunting last night, and frankly, last practice was awful. There’s also a small part of me that wants to avoid Tempest for a bit because of how she makes me feel. It’s like the more I loathe her, the more I lust after her, too.
“No. You two need to practice,” Raph says, his voice loud and finite.
Well. Can’t say I didn’t try.
Walking into the large tent,Tempest and I prepare to rehearse. If we don’t want to be late to the food drive, we’ll have to make this practice quick.
Tempest’s fingers flex as she applies chalk to her hands, and I can’t help but stare, picturing what they’d feel like against my body.
“I want to do some conditioning,” she says, gesturing to the straps she attached to the rig, rather than our usual routine of trapeze. “Some pike flexibility exercises, some dips.”
“Sure, yeah.”
While my muscles are already achy, I agree that conditioning will be good for us, especially with the limited time we have today.
We get on the floor and run through some basic stretches first. Butterfly, pigeon pose, and eventually we find ourselves in the splits.
I’m balancing on a tightrope between attraction and disdain,and it’s a struggle to stay upright. Tempest is muscular and effortlessly beautiful, but there’s something icy about her, and it’s more than just the color of her eyes.
She holds herself in a way that’s cold and apathetic, but then seemingly out of nowhere I get a completely different side of her—one I’ve never seen before. Charming, empathetic, and even… warm. It’s the version of her I wish she showed me every day, but I understand it isn’t something I’ve yet earned.
Weirdly, I find myself wanting to, though. I don’t know if it’s lust or just the natural progression of friendship that develops when you work alongside someone, but I find myself hoping we earn each other’s trust, even if we never speak again after all of this is over.
Tempest gets on the floor, moving into an L sit press position, before shifting her body up into a handstand. Every muscle flexes. From the thick trunks of her thighs, to the sexy extension of her shoulders, I just want to take a bite of her.
This engagement might be a political play, but there are rare moments where the conflict fades from my mind, and I can’t help but envision what we could be. If that one night at The Cathedral would’ve led to us hooking up, or if we’d have always somehow found our way onto opposing sides.
The chemistry between us is undeniable, but it’s hard to tell if our disagreements stem from our personalities, or our species alone. Sometimes I think it’s the latter, and that almost makes this more difficult.
Beyond this conflict, what possibilities exist for us? And even more, I wonder who or what I would be had I not grown up on Ira. Khalid and I may have suffered, but it molded us into who we are today. Strong and perseverant.
Tempest snaps her fingers, getting my attention. “You good?”
“Yeah, just lost in thought.”
“You can think while you stretch, you know?” she says, and a smirk grazes her lips.
I nod, getting onto the floor beside her. “Oh yeah, do you do a lot of that?”
“Stretching?” she asks.
“Thinking,” I clarify.
One of her eyebrows ticks up. “Stretching sounds more fun.”
There’s a playful edge to her words, and I can’t tell if she’s flirting or not, but the thought alone causes goosebumps to raise on my flesh.I’m so fucked.
