Something cracked open in his chest at her fierce protectiveness. He fumbled with the communicator’s clasp, his hands shaking slightly as he handed it over. Lila fastened it around her smaller wrist, adjusting it as tight as it would go though it still hung loose on her delicate bones.
She returned to the kitchen, and Draven found himself mesmerized by the sight of her moving with practiced efficiency between the stove and communicator calls. She chopped vegetables while holding diplomatic conversations that would challenge seasoned nobles.
Look at her. My mate, handling crisis like she was born to rule.
“Jarek, can you please handle all the funeral arrangements at the castle?” Lila’s voice carried through the open doorway, calm and competent. “Call me with any major questions. But Draven and I will be staying at the cabin for a few days so he can grieve properly before the ceremony.”
Draven’s throat tightened. She’d stepped into his world completely, accepting the chaos and responsibility without hesitation.
“Three days should give him time, but we can’t wait much longer than that,” came Jarek’s voice through the speaker.
“Thank you. We’ll talk soon,” Lila replied with professional warmth.
The next call came from Lyric Tavek, and Draven watched in growing amazement as Lila handled the head councilor with a diplomatic grace that would’ve impressed his mother.
“Draven is grieving right now, but I can coordinate with you on any questions or concerns,” she said, stirring something that smelled incredible on the stove. “I’ll pass along anything that requires his direct input.”
She’s magnificent. How did I live without her this long?
When the communicator buzzed again, Draven caught sight of Veyra’s name on the display. His dragon snarled, protective instincts flaring as he remembered the venom in her voice last night.
“I’ll take this one,” he said, crossing to where Lila stood arranging food on plates. “I won’t put you through dealing with her again.”
Lila’s expression darkened, but she nodded and handed him the device. Her fingers lingered against his, offering silent support.
“What do you want, Veyra?” he answered without preamble.
“Draven, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her voice dripped false sympathy that made his skin crawl. “Your mother was such a wonderful woman. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”
Like hell you can’t imagine it.
“I’m sure you’re devastated,” he said flatly.
“I am. And I hate the thought of you suffering alone. I could come to wherever you are and stay with you during this difficult time. You shouldn’t have to bear this grief by yourself.”
The audacity of the offer made his vision blur red around the edges. “I’m not alone.”
“That human can’t possibly understand what you’re going through. She’s not one of us, Draven. In times like these, you need someone who truly comprehends dragon grief and dragon loyalty. Someone who can be the partner you deserve.”
Every word felt like claws raking across his raw nerves. “I have everything I need.”
“Do you? Because I heard the most interesting thing about that antidote we discussed. Corin says the window for it to be effective is narrowing. If you wait much longer?—”
Draven ended the call without saying another word, the communicator’s screen going dark under his thumb. Lila watched him with those perceptive eyes, reading the tension in his shoulders and the fury radiating from his frame.
Veyra wants to use my mother’s death to manipulate me into her bed. That calculating bitch.
“She offered to come here,” he said, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.
Lila’s expression hardened. “Of course she did.”
The mate bond carried her protective anger, doubling his own fury until his dragon pressed against his human skin, demanding retribution. But underneath the rage, one thought burned bright and clear.
Lila is handling everything Veyra claims she can’t. My human mate is already more of a queen than that scheming noble could ever be.
“Sit down now and eat,” Lila commanded softly. She gestured toward the rustic kitchen table where she’d arranged two plates of food that smelled like heaven despite his complete lack of appetite.
Draven’s alpha instincts bristled at being ordered around, but something in her tone—protective, caring, and utterly determined—made him comply without protest. He sank into the wooden chair, his large frame dwarfing the simple furnitureas he watched her move with purposeful grace around the kitchen.
