When did I become someone who takes orders? And why does it feel so damn right when they come from her?
The food she’d prepared looked incredible—seasoned meat, roasted vegetables, and bread that steamed when she broke it open—but his stomach churned with grief and rage. Still, after watching her go to such lengths to care for him during the worst day of his adult life, eating seemed like the least he could do.
He picked up his fork mechanically, forcing himself to take bites while his mind churned with dark thoughts. Every swallow felt like swallowing stones, but the mate bond carried Lila’s satisfaction each time he managed another mouthful.
“You don’t have to hide your pain and grief with me,” Lila said suddenly, her green eyes fixed on his face with laser intensity. “Just let it out, no matter how ugly and messy it may be. Holding it in will only do more harm to you.”
The fork clattered against his plate as he dropped it, the sound unnaturally loud in the cabin’s silence. Her words hit him like a lightning bolt, dismantling the iron control he’d maintained for eighteen years. The careful composure, the stoic strength, the unshakeable leadership—all of it crumbled under the weight of her gentle command.
She wants to see the broken parts. The pieces I’ve hidden from everyone, including myself.
Without conscious thought, he dropped to his knees beside her chair. His arms wrapped around her waist with desperation, his face burying in her lap as if she were the only solid thing in a world that had just tilted off its axis.
The first sob tore from his chest like it was being ripped from his very soul.
Eighteen years of suppressed grief poured out in a torrent—for his father’s mysterious death, for the crown that had stolenhis youth, for the isolation and fear and crushing responsibility that had shaped every day since. His mother’s lifeless face flashed behind his closed eyelids, and fresh agony joined the old wounds until he couldn’t tell where one pain ended and another began.
“Let it all out,” Lila whispered, her fingers threading through his hair with infinite tenderness. “I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her touch grounded him even as he came apart completely. His powerful shoulders shook with the force of emotions he’d buried so deep he’d forgotten they existed. The Alpha king who commanded respect from dragons and nobles alike sobbed like the lost sixteen-year-old boy he’d never been allowed to be.
“Whatever you need from me, I’ll give you,” she continued, her voice a lifeline in the storm of his grief. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
Hope flared through the devastation at her words.
Stay. She said she will stay.
The possibility that she might accept his mate mark and might choose to build a life here with him despite everything—it felt like the first light he’d seen in the darkness.
“I feel so lost in this world now,” he admitted against her thighs, his voice raw and broken. “First my father, now my mother. I don’t believe either death was natural, Lila. Someone is orchestrating this, taking away everyone I love.”
Her hand stilled in his hair for just a moment before resuming its soothing rhythm. “We’ll uncover the truth when you’re ready. When you’re done grieving properly.”
He lifted his head to look at her, tears still tracking down his cheeks without shame. The protectiveness blazing in her green eyes and the unwavering strength she offered so freely—it hit him like a revelation.
This isn’t just about the mate bond anymore. This isn’t just primal need or dragon instinct. I need her in ways I don’t even have words for.
The realization should have terrified him. Instead, it settled into his bones like an unbreakable vow. Whatever shadows were moving behind his mother’s death, whoever had orchestrated the pain that had shaped his entire life—he would protect Lila from it all.
She was his anchor, his salvation, and his future. And he would burn the world before he let anyone take her from him.
The boy who ran whenever life became too overwhelming had finally stopped running.
SEVENTEEN
LILA
Three days had passed since Draven’s breakdown at the kitchen table, and Lila marveled at how naturally she’d slipped into managing his kingdom from the remote cabin. The rustic surroundings—timber beams, stone fireplace, and windows overlooking endless pine forests—felt more like home than her Santa Monica townhouse ever had.
How did I become someone who handles dragon affairs over morning coffee?
She glanced at Draven, who sat cross-legged on the living room floor with his journal open, writing steadily without her having to cajole him. His shoulders had lost their rigid tension, and the wild desperation in his golden eyes had settled into something calmer. He was still intense, but no longer on the verge of shattering every moment.
“The council wants to know about the trade agreements with the Ice Mountain wolves,” she said, reading from his communicator that she’d claimed as her own. “Lyric says it’s not urgent, but they’d like your input.”
“Tell them to postpone any major decisions until after the funeral,” Draven replied without looking up from his writing. “My brain can’t handle trade negotiations right now.”
Three days ago, he would have insisted on handling everything himself, even if it triggered a panic attack.
