CHAPTER 46: LAP OF LUXURY

Obviously, communication is an art.

And there are things people say to deepen relationships. Sincere compliments. Shared experiences. Warm laughter over a good meal.

But just the same, there are things in life that should never be talked about.

Like receding hairlines.

Or someone’s mysterious weight change.

Or, in this particular case, anything that might launch a war.

Which is exactly what Lyra’s mouth was doing.

"My Lord! Lord Hale was just comforting me because I didn’t notice the disappearance of the contracts he already prepared," she squeaked. Her voice kept rising in pitch like a tea kettle preparing for death.

Riley wanted to disappear. He wanted to evaporate. Melt through the floor like a sad puddle of regret.

But unfortunately, the flames licking through the air weren’t hot enough to kill him. If anything, they felt... warm. Like a cozy furnace in winter. And that made everything worse.

Because while he remained unharmed, everyone else in the room looked like they were preparing to meet their ancestors.

Especially the Treant representative, whose roots had curled in on themselves. He looked like he’d just witnessed the fall of civilization.

Sparks of dragon fire leapt from the ancient hearth.

Riley shut his eyes.

He counted to three.

Then looked up.

And there he was.

Kael.

No longer wearing the mask of civility.

Gone were the calm, humanlike eyes.

What stared back at him were golden eyes that glowed like molten sunlight. Like the heart of a volcano given sentience. Eyes that didn’t blink. Eyes that didn’t forgive.

Kael’s jaw was clenched so tight you could hear it grind. One of his hands gripped the armrest of his throne-like chair. The wood groaned in protest. That chair was carved from dragon teeth, blessed by a volcano priest, and reinforced with enchanted bone.

But Kael was an angry dragon.

And the chair was starting to regret its life choices.

"Honey," Kael said flatly.

It wasn’t affectionate. It wasn’t sweet.

It was slow and sarcastic. A blade wrapped in velvet. Every syllable dripped with the kind of danger you only felt when lightning struck twice in the same place.

Riley’s spine tingled.

Around the room, beings of terrifying power looked grim. One ducked behind a magical shield. Another one visibly winced. Everyone was suddenly very interested in staring at the floor.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Riley blinked.

His heart had resumed beating. Poorly, but it was working again.

And that was when he decided to screw everything.

He was going to die anyway.

Might as well die for a good cause.

Because if he could just make sure no one else got incinerated, then maybe his family wouldn’t have to deal with the backlash. Maybe the representatives wouldn’t go home and report, "Our delegation was accidentally barbequed at the Ministry today."

That would be nice.

So Riley, in the most chaotic decision he had made in his entire life, grabbed the red folder from the nearest table.

And he ran.

He sprinted down the length of the meeting room like a man possessed. Gasps followed him. Chairs scraped. Papers flew.

Someone shouted.

Kael didn’t.

Kael just watched.

He had called for Riley, yes. But he had definitely not expected Riley to run directly at him like a sugar-addled lunatic with a mission from the gods.

But Riley had a plan.

It was stupid.

It was irrational.

It was forged in the depths of a panic-flooded brain that had stopped functioning five minutes ago.

Because in the very back of his mind, Riley remembered one important truth.

Kael Dravaryn was a possessive bastard.

He could hide it with pretty words. With elegant clothing and majestic posture. But deep down, he was a territorial elemental lizard.

And there was no universe where Kael would tolerate being cuckolded.

Not by his aide.

And definitely not by his fake honey.

It was then that Riley Hale, certified single and absolutely not ready to mingle, did the unthinkable.

He grabbed the angry dragon lord by the face.

Both hands.

Firmly.

And he kissed him on the cheek.

It wasn’t light.

It wasn’t brief.

It was a full, proper smooch.

A panicked, desperate press of lips against that perfect skin, fueled entirely by hopes, survival instincts, and whatever self-preservation skills he had left in storage.

Utter silence fell over the room.

Time cracked.

Reality hiccuped.

Riley’s eyes were shut so tight they hurt. He didn’t dare move. His lips were still planted on Kael’s cheek like he was trying to summon divine protection through contact.

And Kael?

Kael didn’t move either.

The Dragon Lord, who had been slightly tilted from the force of the impact, remained frozen.

He blinked.

Then again.

Each blink triggered a flicker. His eyes shifted from those molten gold slits to human irises and back again like he was short-circuiting. Like someone had yanked his divine operating system out mid-update.

Across the room, the representatives looked ready to transcend. Someone made a sound that might’ve been the beginning of a fainting spell. The fire in the hearth gave a half-hearted hiss, then died out completely. It poofed out like it had given up.

And still, Riley stayed frozen.

He counted.

One.

Two.

Three.

Still breathing.

Still alive.

That was unexpected.

So with trembling limbs, he pulled away. Slowly. Very, very slowly.

Then, in a feat of suicidal diplomacy, he slid onto Kael’s lap, both legs tucked neatly to one side like he was posing for a formal portrait—of someone about to die.

He adjusted himself like he was sitting on a bench. Or a bomb—honestly, same thing.

Then he presented the red folder.

The contract.

The main culprit for this entire mess.

And with all the false confidence he could gather from his ancestors and the caffeine in his bloodstream, Riley lifted his face and said, "My Lord, I apologize for taking so long. A few things happened. And Ms. Lyra thankfully volunteered to look for the other copies."

He met Kael’s eyes.

Which were still flickering.

Still sharp.

Still draconic.

Riley wanted to crawl into the earth. Maybe become a worm. Something that didn’t have to deal with this.

But instead, he forced his spine to stay straight. He locked his knees together and tried not to tremble as he sat on the lap of the dragon lord. The same dragon lord who had nearly set the room on fire a minute ago.

Riley was stalling.

Literally.

Using his body weight.

Please don’t incinerate anyone, was his only internal prayer. If someone had to die, let it just be him. He was already seated for it anyway.

Their eyes locked again.

Kael’s jaw was still tight.

His pupils still dilated.

Then the air shifted.

It crackled.

It buzzed.

And Kael leaned in ever so slightly.

His voice, low and dangerous, filled the space.

"What did you call me?"

"!!!"

Riley screamed internally.

Demon! he thought. Absolute demon!

But what came out was, "Honey. I’m sorry."

"..."

Then suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped.

Nothing too cold.

Just... back to normal.

As if nothing had happened.

As if they hadn’t just derailed an entire political assembly with a public kiss and a lap-sit.

The beings in the room—powerful, magical, dignified beings—were sweating. Not from heat. From stress. From barely surviving what felt like the verge of annihilation.

Kael didn’t look at them.

He turned forward.

And said, "Then continue the meeting."

And so they did.

Immediately.

No one argued. No one questioned. Pages turned. Magic flickered. A presentation crystal lit up. The Treant representative looked like he was still buffering.

And seated proudly at the head of the room was Kael Dravaryn.

With Riley Hale on his lap.

A hand rested lightly on Riley’s waist, fingers curled against his stomach.

Like it belonged there.

Like it had always been there.

And the meeting resumed.

Because no one wanted to be the one to ask what just happened.