Not yet.
The realization slid through her like cold water, stealing the last of her breath.
He kissed her slow and soft, his hands smoothing up her back in gentle circles, massaging the tension he probably assumed was from the intensity of the moment. His touch was sweet and careful, the opposite of the ferocity from seconds before.
“You okay?” he murmured against her cheek.
“Yes,” she said automatically.
But in her own mind, the word echoed differently.
No.
His kiss was lingering and affectionate, as if he could soothe away whatever he thought she needed without even knowing what it was. He carried her from the kitchen to the bedroom, laying her down on the sheets with that same quiet tenderness that always unraveled her. Then he slid in beside her and pulled her against him, his arm heavy and warm around her waist.
She closed her eyes and pretended to match his breathing. Then she gave herself a mental shake—okay, enough. She was getting ahead of herself, and she knew it. They didn’t even know each other that well. That had to count for something. Just because she couldn’t feel it yet didn’t mean it wasn’t there. It didn’t mean he couldn’t love her, just maybe not in the way she instinctively recognized.
Not everyone moved through feelings like she did. Not everyone had a power that made emotions loud and sometimes impossible to ignore. She’d learned a long time ago that her certainty wasn’t universal, and it wasn’t fair to expect it to be.
She let out a slow breath. She’d just had mind-blowing sex with a Drakkon she liked, someone she was getting to know, someone who made her laugh and paid attention and held her like it mattered. That wasn’t nothing. Things were good. They were simple. She didn’t need to complicate them by racing ahead to conclusions that hadn’t even been asked for yet.
She settled into him, his warmth easing the tight coil in her chest. Wrapped in that familiar heat, she finally let herself relax and closed her eyes. For now, she let the quiet settle and held on to that.
Chapter 13
Hektor
The grounds were already alive when they arrived. Banners hung between stone pillars, deep reds and burnished golds catching the light, each emblazoned with the wordsAncestral Rite Race. The air carried the low hum of voices, Drakkon gathering in clusters, their size and presence making the space feel charged. Zara stayed close to his side, and he adjusted his stride so she didn’t have to hurry.
“This event is in honor of ancient times,” he told her as they walked. “Before cities. Before treaties.”
She glanced around. “What is it?”
“A ceremonial race. Strength, endurance, control. Mostly for the younger Drakkon.”
He gestured toward the wide track cut into the earth, stone-smoothed by centuries of use. At one end stood massive harnesses, ornate and heavy, built for bodies far larger than those of humans.
“In ancient times,” he continued, “we pulled the chariots of Mount Olympus itself. And even during the Titan War, when the gods were riding into battle.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re serious.”
He nodded. “For our service, Zeus freed us. No more binding oaths. No more chains. This race is…remembrance. A way to show that strength still exists, but it’s now a choice. Not owned.”
She was quiet for a moment. “So, it’s not just about winning.”
“No, it’s about proving you can carry power without letting it rule you.”
She looked up at him then, something thoughtful in her expression. “That sounds very you.”
He huffed softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
They didn’t get far before someone called his name.
Then another.
And another.
Drakkons stepped into his path, clasping his forearm, bowing their heads slightly, grinning widely. Voices overlapped, welcome back, good to see you, it’s been too long, each greeting carrying the same note of genuine excitement.
