Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

S abine hesitated at the cabin’s entrance, her fingers hovering over the brass doorknob. The drive up the mountain had given her plenty of time to second-guess herself—maybe too much time, given how many scenarios her mind had conjured. Most of them ended with Ren’s trademark cold shoulder. A few more interesting ones involved significantly less clothing, but she tried not to dwell on those.

Drawing in a steadying breath, she pushed open the door. Rich aromas of spices and roasting meat enveloped her, making her mouth water. Then she saw him, and every coherent thought scattered.

Ren stood by the massive stone fireplace, light playing across the planes of his face and turning his eyes to molten gold. Those eyes captured her with such intensity, such raw possession, that her pulse stuttered. Her feline nature rose with a purr of pure satisfaction. Mate.

Her feet carried her forward without conscious decision. The crackling hearth, the mountain wind outside, everything faded except the magnetic pull between them. When he reached to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, electricity sparked down her spine. His fingers lingered at her jaw, and for one wild moment, she thought he might kiss her.

“Would you like a drink?” The roughness in his voice sent warmth cascading through her.

“Yes, please.” Because if I don’t get something to do with my hands, I might grab you instead.

She watched him move to a wooden cabinet, appreciating how his shirt stretched across broad shoulders. When he turned back with the wine bottle, she couldn’t suppress a delighted laugh.

“That’s my absolute favorite! How did you know?”

“I didn’t.” Something flickered in his expression—pleasure mixed with something deeper. “It’s from my winery, actually. I created the blend for the town.”

“Your winery?” She accepted the glass, trying to ignore how her skin tingled where their fingers brushed. “Is there anything you don’t do?”

“Cook badly?” His lips quirked. “Speaking of which, dinner’s nearly ready.”

“Should I be concerned?” She couldn’t resist teasing. “We’re awfully high up this mountain to call emergency services if you poison me.”

The laugh that burst from him was unexpected and beautiful. His entire face transformed, stern lines melting away to reveal dimples she’d only glimpsed before. Her heart performed a complicated gymnastics routine in her chest.

“I assure you,” he said, eyes dancing with mirth, “I’ve had centuries to perfect my culinary skills. Though if you’re truly worried...” He gestured to the kitchen with exaggerated gravity. “You’re welcome to supervise.”

“Oh, I absolutely am.” She followed him, claiming a stool at the massive kitchen island. “Can’t trust these ancient dragons. I hear they get forgetful in their old age.”

He shot her a look that was half-amusement, half-challenge. “Careful, little tiger. I might take offense to that.”

“Prove me wrong then, old man.”

His eyebrows rose at her boldness, but she caught the pleased rumble in his chest. She watched, entranced, as he moved through the kitchen with fluid grace. He heated roasted potatoes that smelled divine, pulled out an elaborate salad, then produced a tomahawk steak that could have fed her entire pride.

“That’s... quite a piece of meat you’ve got there.”

“Dragon appetite.” He handled the heavy cast iron with casual strength that made her mouth go dry. “We tend to run hot.”

“I bet you do,” she murmured, then felt heat flood her cheeks when his head snapped up. The look he gave her could have melted steel.

“You look incredibly handsome cooking,” she blurted, immediately wanting to sink through the floor. “I mean—that is—you seem very competent. In the kitchen. With the... cooking things.”

His slow smile did nothing to help her coherency. “Do you compliment all your dinner hosts’ kitchen skills?”

“Bold of you to assume I get many dinner invitations.” She tried for lightness. “I have a terrible track record with dating.”

Because I’ve been dreaming about a stranger for years , she didn’t add. Because no one else measured up to a face I couldn’t quite remember. Until you walked in and claimed every thought.

“Their loss,” he said quietly, and something in his tone made her pulse flutter.

The steak, when he served it, was perfection—exactly the right amount of char on the outside, perfectly pink inside. She couldn’t hold back a soft sound of appreciation at the first bite.

“Good?” His expression radiated satisfaction.

“Fishing for compliments now?” But she smiled. “It’s incredible. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

His features softened as he shared stories—learning cuisine across centuries and continents, watching empires rise and fall through their food culture, fighting in wars where a good meal could mean the difference between life and death.

“What was the most interesting historical event you witnessed?” she asked, genuinely fascinated.

“Meeting Einstein was memorable.” His eyes crinkled with the memory. “Brilliant man, but couldn’t match his socks to save his life. Used to get so caught up in equations he’d forget to eat. I had to remind him sometimes.”

“You knew Einstein?” She leaned forward, enchanted. “What else haven’t you told me?”

“Eight centuries hold a lot of stories.” He topped off her wine. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything,” she admitted. “You must be formidable in battle, surviving so much.”

A faint blush colored his cheekbones, surprising and endearing. Before she could tease him about it, he rose to clear their plates.

“Save room for dessert?”

“After that meal? I don’t think—” She broke off as he set a slice of warm apple pie before her, topped with vanilla ice cream. “Okay, maybe a little room.”

The first taste drew another appreciative murmur from her. “This is dangerous,” she declared. “I would absolutely pay you to make this again.”

“No payment necessary.” His eyes glowed with warmth. “I’ll make it whenever you’d like.”

They moved to the sofa by the hearth, and Sabine felt the atmosphere shift. The playful banter mellowed into something deeper, more intimate.

“I was nervous about coming tonight,” she admitted, setting down her wine glass. “You’ve been so distant lately. But this version of you?” Her lips curved softly. “I’m really glad I came.”

Gathering her courage, she turned to face him fully. “Why were you pushing me away?”

Pain shadowed his features. “I wasn’t sure I deserved a second chance,” he said quietly. “Not after failing to save my mate.”

Her heart ached at the raw hurt in his voice. Without thinking, she shifted closer, cupping his face in her hands. His skin radiated heat against her palms, and she felt the subtle quiver of his control.

“Everyone deserves another chance at love,” she whispered, watching his pupils dilate. “Especially those who’ve loved deeply enough to know its worth.”

Something shifted in his expression. One heartbeat she was gazing into his eyes, the next she was in his arms, his mouth claiming hers with desperate hunger. She gasped, and he deepened the kiss, drawing a soft sound from her throat.

Heat coursed through her veins, but it wasn’t just physical desire. This kiss felt like coming home. Like finding a piece of herself she hadn’t known was missing. Like finally, finally breathing after being underwater for years.

Their magic wove together, tiger and dragon, past and present merging into something new and wonderful and inevitable. When they finally parted, neither could hide their reaction to the connection sparking between them.

“Sabine,” he breathed against her lips, and her name had never sounded more like a prayer.

“I’m here,” she whispered back, sliding her fingers into his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The flames leaped higher in the hearth, but neither noticed. They were too busy creating their own magic.

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