For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
She looked…serene. Completely at peace. None of the mischief that sparked in her when she was plotting something, none of the fire that made her stomp around when she was annoyed, none of the wicked glint she got when she was teasing him. Just…soft and almost impossibly unguarded.
She really had him dazed and on his toes. How someone so small, so young, could completely unravel him was a mystery he was beginning to accept he would never solve.
Her lashes fluttered, and she blinked awake, a little disoriented. Then she saw him, and a slow, sleepy smile curved her lips. “Good. I thought it was all a dream.”
“It better not have been,” he muttered.
She giggled, quiet, morning-soft, delighted, and he felt it like a warm palm pressed to his chest.
Then she winced. “Oh no. I have dragon breath.”
“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“Dragon breath,” she repeated solemnly, like he should know this.
“That’s insulting,” he said flatly.
She burst into laughter, sitting up and stretching. “Well, it’s notpleasant, so I’m going to the bathroom.”
She hopped off the bed, and he watched her head toward the bathroom, barely-there shorts, hair messy and perfect. Zara had a way of moving that was all feminine ease—soft curves, warm skin, and an unselfconscious confidence that he found unfairly distracting. She moved like she had no concept of being fragile, like the world should adjust to her rather than the other way around.
He had to be careful. She deserved slow. She deserved intention. She deserved him not acting like he’d been starved for years, even if that’s exactly how it felt.
He exhaled and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, thumb unlocking the screen to check Lifting the Vale. No posts about the fight at Adder’s and no videos of a Drakkon blowing fire into the sky.
Good. He did not want to deal with that chaos.
But farther down the feed, he saw a headline about celebrities arriving in Drakkoria for some major event. He grimaced. He was very glad to be out of the territory with no obligations, no forced mingling, and no awkward small talk.
The bathroom door opened, and Zara padded back to the bed. “I haven’t heard from anyone,” she said, flopping onto the mattress. “No texts or anything. They must’ve had too much fun last night.”
“Well, the drinks were really good.”
“Yeah, they were. Let me check my email. Oh, Pythorus gave an update.”
They skimmed the message together. The basilisks’ mothers were out of town on a mission for their leader and wouldn’t return until next week. Perseus had replied, saying they could take the next few days easy and work remotely if needed.
“That’s nice of him,” Zara murmured.
Hektor set his phone aside and studied her. She looked relaxed. Curious. Open.
“Why don’t we go to Drakkoria?” he said.
Her head snapped up. “Really?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “You seemed interested when we talked about it. And it’s…home. I can show you around.”
Her smile grew slow and warm, like sunrise creeping over stone. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he repeated, with none of the hesitation he’d carried before. “I want you to see it.”
She leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet.
“Hmm,” he pulled back a fraction, smirking. “Better. Still a little dragon breath.”
She swatted his arm and laughed, bright and alive, and Hektor knew, without a doubt, that he’d follow that sound anywhere.
