He laughed softly behind her. “Family. Legacy. Preparing for the future. If someone in your bloodline needs something, make sure you can provide it. Drakkons don’t accumulate wealth just for indulgence; it’s a responsibility. Something you safeguard.”
She raised a brow and shot him a look over her shoulder. “You definitely don’t need this much for me. I mean, I grew up comfortable, but it wasn’t like I had access to my parents’ bank account. I don’t require…whatever this is.” She waved her hand dramatically.
His lips curved. “It’s not about need.”
“Oh?” she teased. “So, you are planning on taking me shopping?”
“Not shopping.” He stepped closer, his hand settling on the small of her back. “But I will take you on a date.”
She blinked, pleasantly startled. “A real one? Like…dress up, go out, talk about normal-people things?”
“Yes,” he said, amused. “That.”
“Well then,” she said, brushing her hands together with exaggerated seriousness, “I very obviously need to get ready. I’m not meeting the ruling class of Drakkoria looking like I rolled out of your bed.”
“You did,” he reminded her.
“Exactly,” she said, lifting her chin. “Hence the getting ready part.”
He chuckled, and she couldn’t help glancing back as they left the hoard room, becauseholy crap,she was seeing a man whose basement looked like the treasury of a kingdom. The heavy security door closed behind them.
And apparently, she was getting a date out of it too.
They reached the upper floor, the warm sunlight spilling across the hall. Zara felt the spark of anticipation flutter in her stomach. This wasn’t just the honeymoon phase. This was something expanding into something that made her want to look good, feel good, be good for him.
“Alright,” she said brightly as she headed toward the bedroom. “Give me twenty minutes.”
He arched a brow. “You take at least forty.”
She gasped, scandalized. “And now I’ll take forty-five.”
His laugh echoed down the hallway as she disappeared inside, her pulse already quickening with excitement for whatever came next.
She slipped into the bedroom, humming under her breath as she headed straight for the walk-in closet. Of course, he had a dressing area, an entire corner of the closet fitted with a mirror, a seating bench, warm lighting, and shelves for accessories. It wasn’t just functional; it was curated, exactly like him.
What surprised her was how full it all was. Not messy or cluttered, just intentional. She hadn’t even noticed he’d hung up her things neatly. Her stuff mixed with his in a way that made her chest warm. She tried not to read too much into it. She failed.
Forty-five minutes later, she tugged on one last earring and adjusted the neckline of her sweater when she sensed him enter. She turned just in time to see him pulling off his shirt and changing into a fitted dark one that made her pulse skip.
He glanced at her, paused, and tilted his head slightly. “You did something different.”
She lifted her brows. “Do you like it?”
“Still pretty,” he said, stepping in to kiss her, slow and appreciative, like he was marking the approval with his mouth.
She sighed against his lips. “Good. Because now I’m going to put on lipstick.”
He huffed a low laugh and stepped aside, watching her with a softness she felt on her skin.
The domesticity of it, him leaning against the frame, arms folded, eyes following her reflection, settled deep and sweet in her bones. She capped the lipstick, gave him a quick spin, and declared, “Okay. Officially ready.”
The city was only a short drive, but the change in atmosphere hit instantly. His home was on the outskirts, where it was quiet and scenic, tucked near the mountains. Here, the landscape shifted to structured beauty: tall buildings carved with Drakkon patterns, a mix of stone and glass, the gentle hum of commerce everywhere.
Still mountain air, just…busier. Important.
She tightened her hold on his arm, enjoying the calm. Shops were open, and they had time to look around. She was looking up at an intricate mural carved into a wall when someone called out.
“Hektor!”
