“I was sixteen when my father died. One day he was there, strong and invincible, and the next...” He stared at his hands. “Political assassination, we think, though we never found proof. I went from prince to king overnight, with an entire kingdom depending on me.”
Lila’s chest ached at the raw pain in his voice. “I can only imagine how terrifying that must have been. To lose your father and immediately have to become everything he was, without time to grieve or process your loss.”
“Exactly.” His golden eyes snapped to hers with startling intensity. “Everyone needed me to be strong, to make decisions, to lead. There was no time for weakness or mourning. I just... buried it all and tried to become the king they needed.”
The familiar weight of shared trauma settled in Lila’s chest. She knew she shouldn’t share personal details—it violated every boundary she’d ever established—but the words tumbled out anyway.
“I lost my father when I was twelve. He was a police officer, shot in the line of duty.” Her voice caught slightly. “I understand that particular kind of grief. It changes you, especially when you’re forced to become the strong one for everyone else.”
Draven stood so abruptly his chair scraped against the floor. Before she could protest, he’d moved around the desk and pulled another chair directly beside hers, eliminating the professional barrier between them. His large, warm hand covered hers, and electricity shot up her arm.
“I’m sorry, Lila. That must have been devastating.” His thumb traced gentle circles over her knuckles. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”
The tenderness in his voice nearly undid her.
When had someone offered to support her? To be there for her pain instead of the other way around?
“Thank you,” she whispered, then caught herself sliding down the slippery slope toward intimacy. “But we’re here to focus on your healing, not mine.”
“I want to help you too, if you’ll let me.”
The sincerity in his golden eyes made her throat tight.
This is getting too personal, too fast.
She pulled her hand free and stood, putting distance between them before she did something spectacularly stupid—like lean into his chest and let him hold her.
“So, I need you to stop all your daily king duties for the next two weeks,” she said, her voice sharper than intended. “We need to focus entirely on your therapy without additional stressors.”
Draven’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to abandon my responsibilities? My people depend on?—”
“Your people need you healthy and stable more than they need you present for every minor decision.” She crossed her arms, channeling her most authoritative therapist voice.“You can’t pour from an empty cup, Draven. If you collapse completely, you’ll help no one.”
He wrestled visibly with the suggestion, alpha pride warring with logical necessity. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with resignation.
“You’re right. Jarek can handle things while we work on... whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely at his head. “How often do you want to meet?”
“At least once daily, possibly more depending on your progress.”
His eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “I’m willing to do as many sessions as you see fit.”
He just wants to spend time with you,her rational mind warned.
And the worst part? She wanted to spend time with him too. Her body hummed with anticipation at the thought of daily sessions, of peeling back his layers and discovering who he really was beneath the crown.
The air between them thickened again as he took a step closer. Her heart hammered as his gaze dropped to her lips, then slowly traveled back to her eyes. He was going to kiss her. She could see the intention burning in his molten gaze and feel the magnetic pull drawing them together.
This cannot happen. Not now.
She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to create distance.
“For tonight, I want you to practice meditation and breathing exercises,” she said, her voice breathless despite her best efforts. “Also, keep a journal. Write about your stress triggers, your fears, whatever comes to mind. We’ll review it tomorrow.”
Draven straightened, his alpha composure sliding back into place like armor. “I’ll follow the doctor’s orders to the letter. I trust your judgment completely.”
The way he said ‘doctor’s orders’ made her stomach flip with dangerous possibilities.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”
