The ride back to Dron’s house was quiet.

The both of them sat in the transport, neither of them looking at the other. It was as if they were going to the greatest of lengths to make sure that they didn’t lock eyes.

Tempest thought it was silly.

She wanted to talk about what had happened, but then that would mean that she would actually have to admit that something transpired. Maybe it was better that she didn’t.

As they walked to the front door, it seemed as if Dron was full of tension. He quickly started on his way to the back and Tempest knew that he was going to lock himself in his room or he was going to find an excuse to leave the house.

She felt like she was walking on egg shells all over again. Worrying that she’d done something to deserve the ire of the men in her life. She was tired of that. She wasn’t about to allow anyone to make her feel as Sam once did. Especially not Dron.

"So I think tonight was a success." Tempest spoke as she stepped further into the house.

Dron skidded to a stop and turned to look at her. The disgust on his face was plain to see.

"What are you going on about now?" He questioned.

"I’m saying that we achieved what we set out to do."

Dron took a few steps in her direction, "How is it possible that we achieved anything but chaos?"

"We wanted people to see that we were a real couple. They saw us hand in hand. Saw us walking together. They saw me touching you. Success." Tempest shrugged her shoulder and walked by him as he scoffed and shook his head. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He obviously didn’t feel the same way she did.

"Absolutely ridiculous." Dron muttered to himself. "I’ll go out and check the perimeter."

Tempest squeezed her eyes shut. She knew he was going to do that. Knew he was going to do whatever he could in order to get away from her.

"No." Tempest heard herself say outloud. Her eyes flashed open as the sound resonated around her. She didn’t know where the courage had come from.

"No?" Dron tilted his head.

There was no turning back now.

"I said no. You don’t need to check the perimeter. You and I both know that there is no one or nothing that is going to be able to get inside of here. More than that, as you’ve even said yourself, no one comes onto your property to begin with. So no, you’re not going to check the perimeter right now."

Dron opened his mouth to speak but instead his lips curled up into a small smirk. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Tempest.

"What exactly do you propose we do now that I have been commanded to stay in my own home."

Tempest knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to goad her into giving up. Trying to make her feel bad for actually standing up for herself. She wouldn’t.

"I suggest that we get on with our night. I’m not sure about you but I could sure use something to eat."

The snide look on Dron’s face instantly dropped off. "I apologize. I promise that I’ll get better at anticipating your needs."

"You don’t need to apologize Dron. We’ve both had a very busy day. It would’ve slipped my mind too."

The both of them walked in the direction of the kitchen. But instead of faking it and trying to make herself look useful, Tempest simply took a seat at the large island like tabletop and waited for Dron to start making her food.

"Are you in the mood for anything in particular?" Dron’s dark eyes bore into Tempest. She tried to ignore it. Tried to convince herself that she didn’t feel anything.

It was all a lie.

"Tempest?" Dron narrowed his eyes.

"Uh... something with some heat? Spicy? Intense?" As the words left her mouth she hoped that Dron wouldn’t take them to mean how she sounded.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly, as if he knew exactly what she’d done and was choosing not to call attention to it.

"Intense," he repeated slowly, the word rolling from his tongue in that deep gravelly voice that always seemed to settle somewhere low in her stomach. "I think I can manage that."

Tempest immediately looked away from him and focused on the smooth black surface of the island countertop. Wonderful. Now she was blushing over food.

She heard Dron move around the kitchen, opening storage compartments and metal cooling units with practiced ease. The sounds should’ve been ordinary, comforting even, but with him every little thing somehow felt heavier. Charged.

Tempest risked a glance upward.

That turned out to be a mistake.

Dron had removed the heavier outer layer he usually wore over his clothing, leaving him in a dark fitted sleeveless shirt that clung tightly to his chest and arms. The black markings winding over one arm seemed darker under the soft kitchen lighting, almost alive as his muscles flexed beneath his skin while he prepared ingredients.

Tempest swallowed hard.

It really wasn’t fair that someone so terrifying could also be... that.

He moved with surprising precision for such a massive man. Every motion was controlled. Careful. He sliced into some brightly colored vegetable with a blade that looked wicked enough to gut someone, yet his hands remained perfectly steady.

Her eyes lingered on those hands longer than they should have.

Large. Scarred. Veins shifting beneath greyish colored skin.

Hands that could easily crush bone.

Hands that had held hers earlier that day with a gentleness she still couldn’t stop thinking about.

Tempest shifted slightly in her seat.

This was getting ridiculous.

She needed to stop staring at him like some hormone-crazed teenager.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to make that impossible.

Dron reached upward to retrieve something from one of the higher shelves, and the movement stretched the fabric across his back and shoulders. Tempest’s breath caught before she could stop it.

Every inch of him looked built for survival. Strength. Violence.

And yet he was standing in a kitchen cooking for her.

The thought settled strangely in her chest.

Sam had barely known where the kitchen was in their apartment unless he wanted a beer from the refrigerator. If Tempest cooked, it was expected. If she cleaned, it was expected. If she needed help, she was "nagging."

But Dron...

Dron apologized because he forgot she needed dinner.

The comparison made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"You are staring again."

Tempest nearly jumped out of her skin.

"I am not," she lied instantly.

Dron glanced over his shoulder, and she caught the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes. "You humans are terrible liars."

Heat flooded her face. "Maybe your ego is just inflated."

"My ego?"

"Yes. You think everyone is staring at you."

Dron made a low sound in his throat that almost sounded like a chuckle. "Most avoid looking at me entirely."

The words hit harder than she expected them to.

Tempest watched him for another moment before speaking more softly. "Well... I think they’re stupid."

The kitchen went quiet.

Dron’s movements slowed for half a second before continuing again.

Tempest immediately wished she could shove the words back into her mouth. Why did she keep saying things like that to him?

Because they were true.

That was the problem.

The rich scent of spices soon filled the kitchen, warm and smoky with something underneath that she couldn’t identify. Dron placed different ingredients into a heated pan, and the sharp crackling sound filled the room.

Tempest rested her chin in her hand while watching him move around the kitchen.

There was something deeply unfair about how attractive competence was.

The confidence in his movements. The quiet focus on his face. The way he occasionally flexed his fingers after handling the hotter pans.

Her mind wandered despite her best efforts.

What would it feel like to have those hands on her?

Absolutely not.

She was not about to sit here fantasizing about Dron while he made dinner three feet away from her like some kind of desperate weirdo. And yet...

Her gaze drifted down his body again anyway.

The dark fabric sat low enough at the back of his neck for her to see the beginning of more black markings disappearing beneath his shirt.

Her pulse fluttered wildly.

"Are all human females this quiet when they are hungry?" Dron asked suddenly.

Tempest blinked rapidly. "Maybe I’m dying."

"You are dramatic."

"And yet you continue to keep me around."

Dron finally looked directly at her then. Really looked at her.

Something unreadable passed over his face before he turned back toward the stove. "Yes," he said quietly. "I do."

The tension in the room thickened instantly.

Tempest’s stomach flipped so hard she thought she might actually be sick this time.

Mercifully, Dron turned his attention back toward the food before she had to figure out how to respond to that.

Several minutes later, he stepped toward the island carrying a plate filled with sliced meats, roasted vegetables, and several pieces of brightly colored fruit she didn’t recognize.

Tempest eyed one suspiciously. It was deep orange with tiny silver specks across the skin.

"What is that?"

"Vexari fruit." Dron set the plate in front of her before leaning one hip against the counter. "It is sweet."

"It looks dangerous."

Dron’s brows lifted slightly. "Dangerous?"

"It’s glowing."

"It is not glowing."

Tempest scoffed, "It’s shimmering. That’s close enough."

To her surprise, Dron actually laughed then. The sound was low and rough, but real.

Tempest stared at him for a second too long again. She liked the sound of his laugh far too much.

Still eyeing the fruit suspiciously, she poked one piece lightly with her finger. "What if it kills me?"

"It won’t kill you." Dron huffed.

Tempest raised an eyebrow in suspicion, "You don’t know that." She tilted her head, "You could be trying to poison me."

Dron gave her a flat look. "After making your meal personally?"

"When you put it like that, it does seem inefficient."

The corner of his mouth twitched again.

Then, before Tempest fully realized what he was doing, Dron reached down and picked up one of the sliced pieces of fruit between his fingers.

Her breath caught.

"Open your mouth."

Every single thought in Tempest’s head vanished.

The words themselves weren’t inappropriate. The tone wasn’t even particularly suggestive.

So why did it feel like the entire room suddenly became too hot to breathe in?

Tempest slowly lifted her eyes to his.

Dron stood directly in front of her now, towering over where she sat on the stool. She could smell the spice from the food clinging to him beneath his usual earthy scent.

Waiting. Watching her.

Tempest parted her lips before she could think too hard about it.

Dron’s gaze darkened almost imperceptibly. Then he lifted the fruit to her mouth and fed it to her gently, his fingers barely brushing against her lower lip. The contact lasted less than a second.

It still sent heat rushing through her entire body.

The fruit burst with sweetness against her tongue, but Tempest barely noticed the taste over the feeling of Dron watching her chew.

"Well?" he asked quietly.

Tempest swallowed hard. "It’s..." Her voice came out weaker than intended. "Good."

Dron held her gaze for one long, heavy moment before finally stepping back.

"Good," he murmured. "I’m glad you enjoyed it."

Tempest more than enjoyed it. It was nearly euphoric, but she didn’t know if it was because of the food or the man feeding it to her.

When she left the festival earlier, Tempest had already made up her mind that she was going to focus on getting home, but one touch from Dron against her lips forced her to face facts.

She was playing with fire, and every last inch of her was desperate to get burned.