Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
DRAVEN
The winding road to Draven’s cabin blurred past in a haze of volcanic ridges and lush purple trees as he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.
He’d insisted on driving despite Lila’s concerned protests, thinking the familiar route through the deep woods might clear his head.
Instead, every twist in the road reminded him of racing here eighteen years ago after his father’s death, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of a crown he’d never wanted so young.
Nothing’s changed. I’m still that terrified sixteen-year-old boy running away from responsibility.
The cabin materialized through the towering pines like a sanctuary carved from living wood and stone.
Massive timber beams supported a structure that blended seamlessly with the volcanic landscape, its windows reflecting the twin suns that cast everything in shades of orange and gold.
This place had been his refuge when the fire madness first began manifesting, when his mother had wisely allowed him to grieve while learning to rule from a distance.
Draven killed the engine and sat motionless, his hands still gripping the wheel as waves of memory crashed over him.
The cabin held too much history—his father teaching him to shift here when he was a young boy, his mother bringing him meals when he’d refused to eat during those first days after his father’s death, and the occasional nights he’d come here over the past eighteen years to roar his grief to the moons in dragon form.
“You should rest,” Lila said softly, her hand covering his on the wheel. The mate bond pulsed between them, carrying her calming energy like a balm to his shattered nerves.
He turned to look at her. “How can I possibly rest when my mother just died? When she was perfectly healthy last night and now...” His voice cracked. “A heart attack, Lila? Does that seem right to you?”
She squeezed his hand, her touch anchoring him to the present. “I know this feels wrong. I know you’re seeing patterns that worry you.”
“Yeah, the same pattern from when my father died mysteriously,” he growled, alpha dominance bleeding through his grief. “Medical emergencies that make no sense. Perfect health one day, dead the next.”
Lila studied his face with those perceptive eyes that saw too much. “We’ll figure it out. But right now, you need to take care of yourself first.”
They carried their hastily packed overnight bags into the cabin, the familiar scent of pine and woodsmoke enveloping them like an old friend’s embrace. Draven dropped his bag by the stone fireplace and prowled toward the windows, his dragon too restless beneath his skin.
“I’ll make us something to eat,” Lila announced, disappearing into the rustic kitchen with a purposeful stride that made his chest tighten with unexpected emotion.
She’s taking care of me without being asked.
The shrill buzz of his communicator shattered the cabin’s peace, making him flinch.
He ignored it. But then another call. He ignored that one too.
But another came right after that. The device vibrated against his wrist with relentless persistence—councilors, nobles, distant relatives, all demanding his attention when he could barely string two coherent thoughts together.
“Give me your communicator,” Lila commanded, appearing in the kitchen doorway with flour dusting her hands and determination blazing in her eyes.
“You don’t have to—”
“Draven.” His name on her lips carried the authority of a future queen, stopping his protest cold. “You’re in no state to handle anything right now. Trust me.”
Something cracked open in his chest at her fierce protectiveness. He fumbled with the communicator’s clasp, his hands shaking slightly as he handed it over. Lila fastened it around her smaller wrist, adjusting it as tight as it would go though it still hung loose on her delicate bones.
She returned to the kitchen, and Draven found himself mesmerized by the sight of her moving with practiced efficiency between the stove and communicator calls. She chopped vegetables while holding diplomatic conversations that would challenge seasoned nobles.
Look at her. My mate, handling crisis like she was born to rule.
“Jarek, can you please handle all the funeral arrangements at the castle?” Lila’s voice carried through the open doorway, calm and competent. “Call me with any major questions. But Draven and I will be staying at the cabin for a few days so he can grieve properly before the ceremony.”
Draven’s throat tightened. She’d stepped into his world completely, accepting the chaos and responsibility without hesitation.
“Three days should give him time, but we can’t wait much longer than that,” came Jarek’s voice through the speaker.
“Thank you. We’ll talk soon,” Lila replied with professional warmth.
The next call came from Lyric Tavek, and Draven watched in growing amazement as Lila handled the head councilor with a diplomatic grace that would’ve impressed his mother.
“Draven is grieving right now, but I can coordinate with you on any questions or concerns,” she said, stirring something that smelled incredible on the stove. “I’ll pass along anything that requires his direct input.”
She’s magnificent. How did I live without her this long?
When the communicator buzzed again, Draven caught sight of Veyra’s name on the display. His dragon snarled, protective instincts flaring as he remembered the venom in her voice last night.
“I’ll take this one,” he said, crossing to where Lila stood arranging food on plates. “I won’t put you through dealing with her again.”
Lila’s expression darkened, but she nodded and handed him the device. Her fingers lingered against his, offering silent support.
“What do you want, Veyra?” he answered without preamble.
“Draven, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her voice dripped false sympathy that made his skin crawl. “Your mother was such a wonderful woman. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”
Like hell you can’t imagine it.
“I’m sure you’re devastated,” he said flatly.
“I am. And I hate the thought of you suffering alone. I could come to wherever you are and stay with you during this difficult time. You shouldn’t have to bear this grief by yourself.”
The audacity of the offer made his vision blur red around the edges. “I’m not alone.”
“That human can’t possibly understand what you’re going through. She’s not one of us, Draven. In times like these, you need someone who truly comprehends dragon grief and dragon loyalty. Someone who can be the partner you deserve.”
Every word felt like claws raking across his raw nerves. “I have everything I need.”
“Do you? Because I heard the most interesting thing about that antidote we discussed. Corin says the window for it to be effective is narrowing. If you wait much longer—”
Draven ended the call without saying another word, the communicator’s screen going dark under his thumb. Lila watched him with those perceptive eyes, reading the tension in his shoulders and the fury radiating from his frame.
Veyra wants to use my mother’s death to manipulate me into her bed. That calculating bitch.
“She offered to come here,” he said, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.
Lila’s expression hardened. “Of course she did.”
The mate bond carried her protective anger, doubling his own fury until his dragon pressed against his human skin, demanding retribution. But underneath the rage, one thought burned bright and clear.
Lila is handling everything Veyra claims she can’t. My human mate is already more of a queen than that scheming noble could ever be.
“Sit down now and eat,” Lila commanded softly. She gestured toward the rustic kitchen table where she’d arranged two plates of food that smelled like heaven despite his complete lack of appetite.
Draven’s alpha instincts bristled at being ordered around, but something in her tone—protective, caring, and utterly determined—made him comply without protest. He sank into the wooden chair, his large frame dwarfing the simple furniture as he watched her move with purposeful grace around the kitchen.
When did I become someone who takes orders? And why does it feel so damn right when they come from her?
The food she’d prepared looked incredible—seasoned meat, roasted vegetables, and bread that steamed when she broke it open—but his stomach churned with grief and rage.
Still, after watching her go to such lengths to care for him during the worst day of his adult life, eating seemed like the least he could do.
He picked up his fork mechanically, forcing himself to take bites while his mind churned with dark thoughts. Every swallow felt like swallowing stones, but the mate bond carried Lila’s satisfaction each time he managed another mouthful.
“You don’t have to hide your pain and grief with me,” Lila said suddenly, her green eyes fixed on his face with laser intensity. “Just let it out, no matter how ugly and messy it may be. Holding it in will only do more harm to you.”
The fork clattered against his plate as he dropped it, the sound unnaturally loud in the cabin’s silence.
Her words hit him like a lightning bolt, dismantling the iron control he’d maintained for eighteen years.
The careful composure, the stoic strength, the unshakeable leadership—all of it crumbled under the weight of her gentle command.
She wants to see the broken parts. The pieces I’ve hidden from everyone, including myself.
Without conscious thought, he dropped to his knees beside her chair. His arms wrapped around her waist with desperation, his face burying in her lap as if she were the only solid thing in a world that had just tilted off its axis.
The first sob tore from his chest like it was being ripped from his very soul.
Eighteen years of suppressed grief poured out in a torrent—for his father’s mysterious death, for the crown that had stolen his youth, for the isolation and fear and crushing responsibility that had shaped every day since.
His mother’s lifeless face flashed behind his closed eyelids, and fresh agony joined the old wounds until he couldn’t tell where one pain ended and another began.
“Let it all out,” Lila whispered, her fingers threading through his hair with infinite tenderness. “I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her touch grounded him even as he came apart completely.
His powerful shoulders shook with the force of emotions he’d buried so deep he’d forgotten they existed.
The Alpha king who commanded respect from dragons and nobles alike sobbed like the lost sixteen-year-old boy he’d never been allowed to be.
“Whatever you need from me, I’ll give you,” she continued, her voice a lifeline in the storm of his grief. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
Hope flared through the devastation at her words.
Stay. She said she will stay.
The possibility that she might accept his mate mark and might choose to build a life here with him despite everything—it felt like the first light he’d seen in the darkness.
“I feel so lost in this world now,” he admitted against her thighs, his voice raw and broken. “First my father, now my mother. I don’t believe either death was natural, Lila. Someone is orchestrating this, taking away everyone I love.”
Her hand stilled in his hair for just a moment before resuming its soothing rhythm. “We’ll uncover the truth when you’re ready. When you’re done grieving properly.”
He lifted his head to look at her, tears still tracking down his cheeks without shame. The protectiveness blazing in her green eyes and the unwavering strength she offered so freely—it hit him like a revelation.
This isn’t just about the mate bond anymore. This isn’t just primal need or dragon instinct. I need her in ways I don’t even have words for.
The realization should have terrified him. Instead, it settled into his bones like an unbreakable vow. Whatever shadows were moving behind his mother’s death, whoever had orchestrated the pain that had shaped his entire life—he would protect Lila from it all.
She was his anchor, his salvation, and his future. And he would burn the world before he let anyone take her from him.
The boy who ran whenever life became too overwhelming had finally stopped running.