Chapter 9 Hektor #3
Elian snorted. “You can rest after food. Besides, if we leave you alone, you’ll just brood.”
Hektor blinked. “I don’t brood.”
“Sure, you don’t,” Liora snickered.
He gave them a long look. They had no idea. Still…he relented.
“It’s been a while since I’ve worked in Solkaris,” he admitted. “I only know the hotel restaurant.”
“Well, that’s tragic,” Elian declared. “We’ll fix that.”
Liora looped her arm through her brother’s. “Let’s ask the concierge.”
The basilisk concierge, scales a pale opal sheen, considered them. “If you want something authentic, there is a cliffside bar, Adder’s, with an excellent view of the ruins. Music, local fare, and the dusk breeze. It will show you who we are.”
Elian grinned. “Perfect.”
Hektor drove. The city shifted as they left the polished districts, the ancient stonework began to show, sun-cracked pillars, worn etchings, serpentine murals carved into cliffside rock. It felt old in the way Drakkon instincts recognized: age without surrender.
The bar sat at the edge of a plateau. The outdoor seating was undeniably stunning, the ruins spread below, bathed in amber torchlight, arches and columns like broken fangs against the desert dark.
“I can appreciate the view without baking,” Liora said, heading straight to the indoor section.
Inside, cool air, fans, and low lanterns. They sat near the window, where the ruins still glowed, distant and majestic.
They ordered food, spiced flatbreads, citrus-marinated meat, mineral-cold water with basilisk herbs. Comfortingly familiar dishes, with just enough twist to remind him this wasn’t home.
Elian leaned back. “You know, Alindale is great, but Solkaris feels…ancient in a way I like. Like it knows things it hasn’t told us yet.”
Liora nodded. “The tunnels alone. Pythorus said some sections haven’t been mapped in centuries.”
Hektor studied them. Their tone tonight was different. Balanced. Quiet. Not hyper or competitive, not nipping at each other or performing.
Just themselves.
And oddly…pleasant.
“You two seem calmer without her,” he said before he could stop himself.
“When the three of us are together,” Elian huffed a half-laugh. “We feed off each other’s energy.”
Liora smiled softly. “Our mom used to tell us to relax or give her a break—she could barely handle us.”
Hektor understood that more than he wanted to.
He lifted his drink, watching the ruins glow.
The date, her date, would be starting now. He imagined Zara, bright and laughing, leaning into Pythorus’s easy charm, his arm steady at her back.
Elian passed him the basket of bread. “This work gets lonely sometimes, doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
Liora tapped her glass to his. “Then tonight, you’re not alone.”
The ruins burned gold below them, ancient and silent.
Hektor let himself exhale, not because he was comfortable. But because the siblings were steady enough to sit with him while he wasn’t.
By the time they had their last bite, Elian waved a hand toward the outdoor bar. “Come on, we’re not done yet. Drinks are part of the experience!”
Liora rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fine, we’ll go outside.”
Hektor hesitated, then found himself nodding. Why am I agreeing to this? But truthfully, he was enjoying their easy chatter more than he expected. “Alright,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. “One round of drinks. Then we can call it a night.”
“See?” Elian grinned. “Told you it’d be fun.”
Liora smirked. “You might even like it, Hektor.”
He kept his expression blank, but a faint trace of amusement crept into his features as they moved toward the outdoor bar.
The night outside was cooler, the heat finally bleeding off the stone. Music drifted from the courtyard, and they stood by the bar railing while the basilisk bartender prepared their order.
“So,” Hektor began, casual but genuinely curious, “how’s it going for you both? Leaving home…all of it.”
Elian shrugged. “We’ve lived away from family before. This just feels…farther.”
“Farther and harder to pop home for a hug,” Liora added with a wry smile. “If something happened, we’d need Lord Eros’s help just to get back.”
Hektor nodded. “Drakkoria is isolated, too.”
Liora tilted her head. “Is this your first time away?”
He paused, then answered carefully. “First extended assignment away, yes.”
It was a clean answer, neat and polished. Nothing about the female who didn’t choose him. Who was now pregnant by another Drakkon. And, absolutely nothing about Zara.
Their drinks arrived, deep amber spirit for Elian, green mineral wine for Liora, and a cold, dust-pale draught for Hektor.
They turned toward the tables—
—and he saw her.
Zara. Glowing under string lights, cheeks flushed, curls tied back with lazy charm. And Pythorus, seated so close their elbows brushed. She smiled at something he said, soft, unguarded, lovely.
Hektor’s chest locked.
Don’t react. Don’t—
Too late.
Liora followed his gaze and whispered, “Whoopsie.”
Elian winced. “We didn’t know they were here.”
“It’s no big deal,” Hektor said briskly, so brisk it was absurd.
He steered them to an empty spot. Unfortunately, directly across from the date. The gods clearly had a sense of humor and no mercy.
From here, it was impossible to ignore Zara’s smile or how she leaned toward Pythorus. If he turned his head, he’d look ridiculous. If he didn’t, he’d stare like a lunatic.
So he sat. Sipped. Pretended.
“Elian,” Liora murmured behind her glass, “are they…going to kiss?”
No, they weren’t. Of course they weren’t. Except—they might. Obviously, they might. This was a date. People kissed on dates.
“They’re on a date,” Elian exhaled. “That doesn’t mean—”
Pythorus laughed. Zara leaned in, bright-eyed.
Hektor’s heart stopped, and he couldn’t keep the memory from hitting him.
The way she tasted when he kissed her, warm and unmistakably hers.
The way she fit in his hands, soft where he needed her to be, real in a way that grounded him.
The idea of another male touching her like that, learning those same reactions, sent a sharp, ugly flare through his chest. Jealousy burned hot and possessive, fierce enough that it startled him.
If he touches her face, if his lips touch any part of her, I will incinerate this entire district.
The siblings watched him, wide-eyed.
“Maybe,” Elian said lightly, “you should…interrupt?”
Hektor didn’t think.
He moved.
One moment, he was sitting. The next he was standing at their table like an execution order had been stamped.
Zara and Pythorus snapped their heads toward him, startled and clearly mid-something.
“We need to talk,” Hektor said, voice low and flat.
“Um.” Zara blinked. “Okay?”
He motioned, more command than request. She rose, confused but compliant.
Behind her, Pythorus muttered under his breath with exquisite relief, “Thank the ancestors.”
Hektor paused, thrown. Thank who? Why?
Before he could ask, Zara grabbed his arm and tugged him out of the courtyard, down the stairs, and into the dim parking area where a line of basilisk taxis waited like sleeping serpents.
She rounded on him.
“What,” she hissed, “in the name of every dead deity, are you doing?”