“Can you?” His voice dropped to that rumbling tone that made her toes curl in her shoes. “Good to know.”
The first course arrived—some kind of delicate fish that melted on her tongue, paired with vegetables she didn’t recognize but that tasted like pure sunshine. As they ate, the conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine, moving from Nova Aurora’s history to her life on Earth.
“So, you raised your brother after your father died?” Draven’s expression softened with understanding. “That couldn’t have been easy.”
“Someone had to.” Lila took another sip of wine, feeling the edges of her usual caution blurring. “My mother... she retreated into herself. Liam needed stability.”
“And what did you need?”
The question caught her off guard with its gentle insight. Trevor had never asked her that, never seemed to wonder what toll her caretaking had taken.
“I needed...” She paused, the wine making her more honest than usual. “I needed someone to take care of me for once.”
The admission hung between them, vulnerable and raw. Draven’s hand moved across the table to cover hers, his touch sending tingles up her arm.
“You deserve that,” he said quietly. “You deserve someone who sees your strength and wants to protect it, not exploit it.”
How does he see me so clearly?
The magnetic pull intensified as the second course arrived, the sexual tension building with each shared glance and each accidental brush of fingers as they reached for their wine glasses. Lila found herself leaning closer, drawn by his gravitational field like a planet orbiting its sun.
“Tell me something real,” she heard herself say, the wine making her bold. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”
Draven’s eyes held hers, and she saw past the Alpha king to the man beneath—complex, wounded, and utterly captivating.
“I’ve been waiting my entire life for someone to look at me the way you do,” he said, his voice rough with honesty.
His confession hung in the air, and Lila felt heat bloom across her cheeks that had nothing to do with the Sidaii wine. Her heart thundered as she searched his golden-brown eyes, finding nothing but raw sincerity staring back at her.
How does he do that? Make me feel like the most important person in the universe with just a look?
“Draven, I—” she began, but the words scattered like leaves in the wind as the waiter appeared with their dessert.
The chocolate truffle cake looked like edible art—layers of dark ganache swirled with gold dust that caught the aurora light streaming through the windows. Delicate sugar flowers crowned the creation, so beautiful it seemed almost criminal to disturb it.
“This is too pretty to eat,” she breathed, momentarily distracted from the intensity crackling between them.
Draven picked up his fork with predatory grace, scooping up a perfect bite that captured cake, ganache, and a hint of the gold dust. Instead of bringing it to his own mouth, he extended the fork toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Let me.”
The simple words carried weight that made her pulse quicken. She’d never been fed by a man before—Trevor had been too self-absorbed to think of such gestures, and every boyfriend before him had lacked the confidence to be so boldly intimate.
This is dangerous.
But the wine had loosened her inhibitions, and the way Draven watched her with such focused attention made her feel reckless. She leaned forward slightly, her lips parting to accept his offering.
The moment the fork slipped between her lips, the rich chocolate exploded across her tongue—decadent and sinful and perfect. But it was the way Draven’s pupils dilated as he watchedher eat from his fork that sent liquid heat pooling low in her belly.
“Good?” His voice had dropped to that tone that made her shiver.
“Incredible,” she managed, acutely aware of how his gaze lingered on her mouth.
He fed her another bite, this one catching a sugar flower that dissolved like spun dreams on her tongue. The intimacy of the gesture—his complete focus on her pleasure, and the care with which he chose each perfect morsel—was more arousing than any kiss she’d ever received.
Professional boundaries. Remember those exist.
The thought felt distant and unimportant as Draven set down the fork and leaned back in his chair, studying her with satisfaction.
