Hektor answered faster than she expected, like he’d been pacing, waiting, listening. He wore dark sleep pants and nothing else.
That nothing else hit her like a brick.
Oh.
So that’s what was under the button-ups and tactical vests and stoic Drakkon posture. His shoulders looked…impossible. Broader than she imagined, defined, warm-toned, and strong in a way that made her knees forget how to function.
His eyes widened, just a flash, then his hand shot out, closing around her forearm, and he tugged her inside with effortless strength. The door shut with a soft click.
Zara stumbled a step and laughed. “Hi to you too?—”
“Why,” he hissed under his breath, “did you walk around in that?”
She blinked, looked down at her pajamas, tiny shorts, thin tank, soft cotton, and zero coverage, and then grinned. “It wasn’t that far. I’m literally next door.”
“That’s not the point.” His jaw clenched, embarrassment and possessiveness warring in real time across his face.
She raised a brow. “What is the point then, oh mighty fire-breather?”
He exhaled sharply and guided her to the couch, still holding her arm, as if he let go, she might float out of reach.
“You agreed,” she reminded gently, settling in with a bounce of the cushions, “that we still had to talk. So, we’re doing that now.”
“I know,” he muttered, dropping beside her but not too close. Her knee was one nudge away from touching his thigh, and the awareness of that space made her pulse do confused gymnastics. “There’s no changing your mind once you decide something.”
“Correct,” Zara chirped. “Congratulations, you understand me.”
He gave her an unimpressed look, which only made her grin wider.
“You can stop glowering,” she continued. “I didn’t parade down the entire hotel in silk and sin. Just across one door.”
“That is not—” He cut himself off, looked upward like praying for patience. “Drekhar, you are…difficult.”
“And you like that,” she singsonged.
His gaze dropped back to her. Very slowly. Very intentionally. “I do,” he said, voice low. “Too much, probably.”
Heat unfurled in her stomach.
“Well,” she tried to smother her smile before it got smug, but it was useless, “this is already more productive communication than the entire couple of weeks.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Zara.”
“Yes?”
“You’re teasing.”
“Yes.”
“It’s working.”
That caught her breath because he meant it. Not flustered-working, not irritated-working.Honest-working.
She tucked her legs underneath herself, facing him fully now. “Good,” she said softly. “Because I don’t actually want to make you miserable. I just want you to…let yourself have this. Have me.”
Hektor went still. Not cold-still, not shutting down, but the kind of stillness that came before choosing. His eyes finally, finally met hers without deflection. “I’m trying.”
“I know you are.” She nudged his knee. “And I’m here. So that helps.”
