22. Chapter Twenty Two #2
He hesitated, swirling the wine in his glass as if it held his answers.
“The hold she guards has been in our family for generations. It’s one of the last places the King’s forces haven’t touched.
Abandoning it would mean letting history be erased.
” His voice softened, a flicker of pain threading through.
“My mother’s human, so she isn’t hunted the way we are.
But she’s known to shelter Riftborn when I visit—or when someone needs refuge.
If the wrong person discovered that…” His jaw tightened.
“It would be enough to see her hanged.” Something in his tone shifted then, lighter for just a breath.
“She’s stubborn. Eccentric. Talks too much when she’s nervous and collects stray cats like they’re jewels.
But she’d give the cloak off her back to someone freezing in the snow—and Gods help you if she catches you with mud on her carpets.
” His lips curved faintly, almost fond. “She’s survived this long because she’s clever.
But it’s still a risk every time I go.” My heart squeezed at the quiet weight of his words.
I reached across the table, laying my hand gently over his.
His eyes met mine, and there it was—that flicker of gratitude beneath the steel of his expression.
“What of your father?” I asked after a moment, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
His jaw clenched. “He was murdered,” Drake said flatly.
“When I was seven. He… exposed his scales in public. Just a glimpse. That was all it took,” he looked down into his glass, his knuckles whitening around the stem.
“They made an example of him,” he took a long, bracing drink, but the haunted look in his eyes remained.
The silence stretched between us like a thread pulled too tight. I couldn’t bear the hurt radiating off him, so I offered the gentlest lifeline I could find. “What’s your favorite color?” I asked, my voice lilting with forced lightness.
That devilish grin returned, but slower this time, like he had to will it into existence. “Red,” he said, glancing deliberately at my dress. “Obviously.”
I laughed, grateful for the shift. “Of course it is. Mine’s green. Like the forest after a storm.”
He leaned in, the tension finally starting to ease. “Favorite flower?”
“Dogwood,” I answered without hesitation. “You?”
He gestured to the vase. “You’re looking at them.”
I smiled, letting the conversation flow more freely now. We left grief behind for a while, letting laughter and memory fill the space instead. He didn’t know it, but I admired the way he’d trusted me with that story. And he’d never know how much I needed that smile he gave me right after.
He told me stories about his time as a scout, and I shared funny memories from the inn.
The lanterns flickered in the warm glow of the dining room, their soft candlelight reflecting off the red gown that I was starting to feel more at ease in.
Drake’s gaze had barely left me all evening, and his rare, genuine smiles only made my cheeks flush more.
As I sipped my wine, he leaned back in his chair, his expression growing more serious.
“Well,” he began, his deep voice tinged with hesitation, “I wasn’t lying when I said I had something important to tell you.”
I tilted my head, curious. “Go on.”
He set his glass down and shifted in his seat, his hand moving to grip his napkin nervously. “How do I say this…” He exhaled, his confidence from earlier replaced by something more vulnerable. “I’ve been assigned to… you.”
My brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“Well, er…” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. “As you know, you’re the Uprising’s?—”
“-greatest asset,” I finished flatly, rolling my eyes. “Yes, as everyone likes reminding me.”
His expression flickered, entertained by my sass.
“Eva, it wasn’t a decision made about you.
It was mine. After the Vyrmin attack… I asked Julian to assign me as your protection detail.
I didn’t want anyone else watching your back,” the air felt heavier for a moment, the flickering candlelight throwing shadows across his face. He looked vulnerable. Uncertain.
My stomach twisted—but not in the way I expected. It wasn’t fear. It was something else. “So,” I said, trying to force levity into my voice, “you’re like my full-time bodyguard now?”
He chuckled nervously. “I guess we could call it that,” his gaze flicked to mine, gauging my reaction. “You’re not mad, are you?”
I leaned back in my chair, letting a playful smile cross my lips. “Why would I be? Extra security and you’re not bad to look at.”
His face flushed, and I was struck by the unexpected sight of this towering, confident warrior blushing like a schoolboy. Gods, I made him blush . My heart thudded loudly in my chest.
Am I in love? No. No way. Maybe?
He laughed a deep and genuine sound that felt like music. “Fair enough,” he said, his voice softer now.
“For the record, I remember being the one saving your ass from those Vyrmin.” I said jokingly.
His grin widened, “And I’ll never forget it,” the tension seemed to melt away as we finished our meal. The conversation drifted to lighter topics, but my mind kept circling back to his earlier admission. He’d chosen this assignment—chose me . That thought lingered as we stood to leave.
As we walked side by side through the streets of Riftreach, his hand brushed against mine—tentative at first, then deliberate.
His fingers laced through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Electricity surged at the contact, warm and steady.
I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to. Instead, I squeezed his hand gently, grounding myself in the moment, in him.
“Can I ask you something?” I said, my voice quieter now.
“Of course.”
“What makes you smell the way you do?” The words tumbled out awkwardly, and I instantly winced. “I mean—um—it’s not bad! Gods, no, it’s just… unique. I quite like it, actually.”
He raised a brow, clearly amused but a touch self-conscious.
“Probably my scale salve,” he said, brushing the back of his hand where crimson scales shimmered faintly.
“It’s a blend my mother makes. Keeps them from drying out.
Helps with flexibility, too.” He flexed his free hand open and shut as a demonstration.
“That’s… actually fascinating,” I said, marveling at the glimpse into his heritage. There was so much I didn’t know about him, so much I wanted to learn.
By the time we reached the ship, the cool cavern air nipped at my skin, but I barely noticed.
My focus was entirely on him—on the way his hand stayed entwined with mine, his thumb lightly tracing lazy circles against my knuckles.
Each step up the stairs to my chamber felt impossibly long and far too fast all at once.
At last, we stood before my door. The hush of the ship deck was almost deafening, broken only by the distant murmur of the geyser.
“I had a lovely time tonight,” I said softly, turning to face him fully.
Each step up the stairs to my chamber felt impossibly long and far too fast all at once.
“As did I.”
I smiled nervously, then blurted, “Well… better than my last date, at least. You didn’t kill this one.”
For a split second his silver eyes widened, and then—Gods help me—a startled laugh rumbled out of him. Joy flooded my chest, dizzy and reckless. I wanted to make him laugh forever.
The laughter faded into something quieter, something heavier.
His gaze lingered on mine, dipping to my lips and back again.
My heart stuttered, and before he could decide, I did.
I leaned in, arms sliding around his shoulders, and kissed him.
His hands found my waist instantly, pulling me against him like he’d been waiting for this all night.
His lips moved with mine—slow at first, then deeper, needier.
And I thought about what the twins had said earlier…
not just about the… reputation… of Dragons, but the dress, too—how it would get me wherever I wanted to go.
I broke the kiss breathlessly, fingers trailing down the firm line of his chest to catch the knot of his tie. With a tug, I whispered, “Care to come in?”
His pupils flared, jaw tight with restraint, but his voice was low and hoarse. “Gods, yes.”
I smiled, stepped back, and pulled him through the door.
“I want you. Now,” I whispered, my voice trembling with raw, unfiltered need. His eyes widened—just for a moment—before darkening with something primal.
“Oh, thank fuck,” he growled, his voice ragged as his shoulders hunched like he was preparing to strike.
And strike, he did.
In one fluid motion, he lifted me like I weighed nothing, his strong hands gripping my thighs as he pressed me against the door.
My back met the wood with a soft thud, and I gasped as his hips pinned me there.
I could feel his growing arousal firmly against me.
His mouth found the curve of my throat, his lips grazing the skin before he bit—just enough to make me shudder.
He kissed and nipped his way up to my jaw, and I melted beneath him.
His hands—large, warm, insistent—cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my stiffened peaks through the fabric of my gown.
Each pass of his touch sent sparks rippling through me, heat building with every breath.
I moaned as his teeth grazed my earlobe, my fingers threading into his hair and tugging gently. A low growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating against my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with hunger.
“Drake,” I gasped, breathless beneath the intensity of his touch. His scent wrapped around me—warm, spicy, utterly him—and I needed more. My hands slid down the broad line of his shoulders, gripping his jacket. “Off,” I commanded, my voice shaking with urgency.