Page 36

THIRTY-SIX

X ai’s penthouse occupied the top floor of Enchanted Falls’s tallest building, offering sweeping views of the mountains beyond. Zina stepped out of the elevator into a minimalist space of clean lines and muted colors, punctuated by surprising elements: a collection of ancient scrolls displayed in glass cases, a massive stone fireplace with no visible flue, and floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the town spread below like a glittering map.

She’d followed Bryn’s advice about the dress, the emerald fabric complementing both her complexion and her eyes. Her lioness had approved, excited at the thought of impressing the dragon elder. Now, taking in the sophisticated space, she was glad she’d made the effort.

“I expected more... treasure,” she quipped, setting down her bag of research materials. “Isn’t that a dragon stereotype?”

Xai emerged from the kitchen area, wine glasses in hand, looking remarkably different without his formal council attire. Dark jeans and a simple button-down shirt with rolled sleeves revealed forearms corded with lean muscle. His golden-brown hair, usually impeccably styled, looked slightly tousled, as though he’d run his hands through it repeatedly.

His eyes widened appreciatively as they swept over her, making her glad she’d taken extra care with her appearance. “You look beautiful,” he said simply.

The directness of the compliment warmed her from within. “Thank you.”

“As for the treasure,” he continued, offering her a glass of wine, “the vault’s downstairs.”

She blinked, startled. “Seriously?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “That was a joke.”

“Dragons can joke. Noted.” She accepted the glass, their fingers brushing in a moment of electric contact that sent a pleasant tingle up her arm.

“Only the very old ones.” His golden eyes crinkled at the corners. “We have centuries to practice.”

“And how many centuries of practice do you have with...” she gestured toward the kitchen, where delicious aromas wafted, “domestic skills?”

“Enough to impress a discerning lioness, I hope.” He offered his arm with old-world courtesy. “Shall we?”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, hyperaware of the solid warmth of him through the fabric of his shirt. “Lead on, dragon.”

He guided her onto a spacious balcony where dinner awaited—a spread of grilled vegetables, tender steak, and freshly baked bread. The casual elegance of the setup complemented the spectacular view of the sunset painting Enchanted Falls in amber and gold.

“You really did cook,” she observed, taking her seat. “I’m impressed.”

“Disappointed?” He settled across from her, his movements fluid despite his imposing frame.

“Not at all.” She smiled, inhaling the mouthwatering aromas. “Though I did have a mental image of you breathing fire directly onto the steak.”

He laughed, the rich sound warming the space between them. “Only for special occasions. I find conventional methods more conducive to controlled temperatures.”

“So practical.” She took a sip of wine, the ruby liquid silky and complex on her tongue. “Let me guess—you chose a wine that pairs well with both beef and dragonfire?”

“Naturally.” His eyes danced with amusement. “Though I’d argue it pairs even better with fascinating company.”

Their banter continued through dinner, unexpectedly easy despite the circumstances that had brought them together. Zina found herself sharing stories of her childhood in Enchanted Falls—her mother’s obsession with perfect aromatherapy blends, her father’s lessons on controlling her lioness form during full moons.

“They met on a peacekeeping mission in Rwanda,” she explained, swirling the last of her wine. “Mom was studying traditional healing techniques with local practitioners. Dad was a liaison between shifter populations and human aid workers.”

“I remember the program,” Xai nodded. “My brother Draven consulted on it briefly. Your parents were highly respected for their diplomatic skills.”

Pain flickered across her features before she could mask it. “They died doing what they loved. Another mission, years later. A territorial dispute between rival prides turned violent.” She set down her glass with deliberate care. “The spa was Mom’s dream. She’d been collecting techniques, recipes, traditions for years.”

“And you built it for her.” His voice softened with understanding.

“It was all I could think to do with the grief.” The admission slipped out before she could stop it, more vulnerable than she’d intended.