But then he remembered the way Lila’s green eyes had softened when she’d guided him through his panic attack today. The calm that had settled over his mind like a warm blanket. The rightness he’d felt when their hands touched.
She’s my mate. The real cure, not some artificial antidote.
His dragon stirred in agreement, more settled than it had been in months. Lila’s presence in the castle was like a healing balm on wounds he’d carried for years. But how could he tell her the truth without sounding completely insane?
Hey, Lila, forget the therapy sessions and science. Turns out you’re my destined mate and if you sleep with me, it’ll cure my magical fire madness.
He snorted at the ridiculous mental script. She’d think he’d finally lost his mind completely.
No, Jarek was right. He needed to be strategic. Subtle. Let their connection develop naturally while finding ways to be vulnerable and open about his past trauma—his father’s death, his fears of failure, and the crushing weight of responsibility he’d carried since he was sixteen.
Maybe if she understood the man beneath the crown, she’d be willing to explore what was building between them. Maybe she’d stay longer than two weeks.
Maybe she’ll choose me.
The thought sent both hope and terror racing through his system. He’d spent so long protecting himself from emotional vulnerability that the idea of laying his heart bare felt more dangerous than facing down an army of rogue dragons.
But the alternative—watching her leave, accepting Corin’s antidote, mating with Veyra—made his dragon snarl with violent rejection.
Two weeks.That’s all the time he had to convince the most incredible woman he’d ever met that their impossible connection was worth exploring. Two weeks to heal eighteen years of carefully constructed emotional barriers.
Two weeks to save his sanity, his kingdom, and his heart.
The urgency hit him with physical force. He couldn’t afford to move slowly, couldn’t waste time on elaborate courtship rituals.The fire madness was a ticking bomb, and Lila was the only one who could defuse it.
Tomorrow,he decided, his jaw setting with determination.Tomorrow I start showing her who I really am.
The next morning, Draven dragged himself through the castle toward the dining room, the soft morning light filtering through the tall windows doing nothing to ease the exhaustion weighing on him. His dark jeans clung to his powerful thighs, and the forest green henley he’d chosen for comfort felt like sandpaper against his skin. Every step echoed his restless night—hours spent pacing his chambers, replaying every moment of his encounter with Lila and every word she’d whispered in that breathless voice.
His dragon had been restless all night too, prowling beneath his skin and demanding action.
Claim her. Mark her. End this nightmare.
But his human logic knew better. One wrong move and she’d flee back to Earth, taking his sanity with her for good.
He pushed through the wooden doors of the dining room, where his mother sat at the far end of the long obsidian table. Steam rose from her teacup, and her golden-brown eyes—so like his own—tracked his every movement with maternal precision.
“You look like hell.” Her voice carried the kind of blunt honesty only a mother could deliver.
Draven dropped into the chair next to her, running both hands through his disheveled hair. The black strands stuck up at odd angles, evidence of the countless times he’d raked his fingers through them during the night.
“Good morning to you too, Mother.”
Her lips twitched with barely contained amusement as she poured him coffee from the silver service. The rich aroma did nothing to combat the weariness that had settled into his muscles.
“Your hair looks like you’ve been wrestling with your dragon all night.” She slid the steaming cup across the polished surface. “And those shadows under your eyes suggest you lost the fight.”
Draven accepted the coffee gratefully, wrapping his fingers around the warm ceramic. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Mmm.” Her knowing hum made his jaw clench. She leaned back in her chair, studying him with the kind of intensity that had always made him feel transparent. “Is there something you need to confess to me?”
The question hung in the air. Draven stared into his coffee, watching the dark liquid swirl as he fought the urge to fidget under his mother’s scrutiny. She’d always been able to read him like an open book—every emotion, every secret, and every carefully guarded thought.
There’s no point hiding it. She already knows.
“Lila is my fated mate.”
The words fell between them with the weight of a dropped stone. Her expression didn’t change, but something shifted in her golden eyes—satisfaction, perhaps, or relief.
