Page 76

SEVENTY-SIX

T hat evening, Zina and Xai retreated to her apartment above the spa. The space felt different now—smaller after experiencing his penthouse, yet cozier with his imposing presence filling her modest living room.

She kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. “I’ve faced down supernatural enforcers with less stress than that town meeting.”

“Public relations,” Xai agreed, loosening his tie. “The true battle after any conflict.”

“I spoke with Elder Tygra afterward,” she said, collapsing onto her sofa. “She approves of our ‘information management strategy.’“

“You mean your strategic gossip distribution?” He smiled, that rare full smile that transformed his austere features. “Elder Tygra may appear rigid, but she understands perception management better than most.”

Zina patted the cushion beside her. When he sat, she leaned against his solid warmth, muscles relaxing as his arm encircled her shoulders.

“I still can’t believe this is my life now,” she murmured. “Three months ago, my biggest worry was whether our hot stone massage would attract enough clientele.”

“Do you regret it?” His question held no judgment, only quiet concern.

She considered carefully before answering. “Not the outcome. But I wish I’d known sooner what my mother was preparing me for. We could have had more honest conversations before she died.”

His fingers stroked her hair with surprising gentleness for such large hands. “Parents protect their children in ways that sometimes deny them understanding. My father did the same, shielding me from council politics until I was nearly a century old.”

“A century,” she echoed with a soft laugh. “I keep forgetting how ancient you are.”

“Mature,” he corrected with dignity. “Dragons prefer ‘mature.’“

She tilted her head to look up at him. “Does it bother you? Being with someone so... chronologically challenged?”

His expression turned serious. “Age means little to our kinds. It’s experience that shapes us, and you’ve faced more in your brief decades than many supernatural beings in centuries of existence.”

“Flatterer.” But his words soothed an insecurity she’d barely acknowledged to herself.

“There’s something we should discuss,” he said, shifting to face her more directly. “In dragon culture, mating involves certain rituals.”

Her heartbeat quickened. “Sounds serious.”

“Traditional exchanges of vows, gifts, pledges.” His golden eyes held hers, unblinking. “The bond has formed naturally between us, but honoring it formally holds significance.”

“We did things a bit out of order, didn’t we?” She smiled, trying to mask sudden nervousness. “Bond first, rituals later.”

“Dragons are adaptable,” he assured her. “But I wondered about lions. Do you have specific customs?”

Zina thought of her parents—their deep connection, the quiet ways they’d reaffirmed their bond over decades together.

“Pride traditions vary. My parents exchanged personal tokens during a sunset ceremony.” A bittersweet ache accompanied the memory. “My mother gave my father a carved stone representing strength. He gave her a small golden flame sculpture symbolizing passion.”

Xai’s expression turned thoughtful. “Perhaps we could honor both our heritages. A private ceremony, combining elements meaningful to each of us.”

The suggestion warmed her more than she expected. Not a business arrangement or supernatural alliance, but a genuine celebration of what had grown between them.

“I’d like that,” she admitted.

From his pocket, he withdrew a small object that caught the light—a delicate pendant shaped like a lioness wreathed in protective flames. The craftsmanship was exquisite, gold and ruby blending in seamless harmony.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, throat suddenly tight.

“A dragon’s first gift to his mate traditionally contains fire elements.” He secured the chain around her neck, the pendant warm against her skin. “The wearer carries dragon protection wherever they go.”

The significance wasn’t lost on her. In giving this, Xai offered more than jewelry—he pledged his protection, his loyalty, his essence.

“I don’t have a traditional lion gift prepared,” she admitted.

His smile held no disappointment. “There’s no rush. The right token will present itself when the time comes.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, overwhelmed by a surge of emotion she couldn’t quite name. Not just desire or affection, but something deeper—a bone-deep certainty that despite their different natures, they belonged together.

“When should we hold this blended ceremony?” she asked against his chest. “The council will expect something formal, I suppose.”

“What do you want?” His question cut through political considerations, focusing solely on her desires.

She considered, then answered truthfully. “Something intimate. Just us and perhaps our closest friends. Near the pyre that brought us together.”

“Then that’s what we’ll have.” His lips brushed her forehead, sealing the promise.