Page 41 of Hot for the Dragon

His dark eyes warmed as he launched into an unexpectedly passionate defense of proper pasta layering, and Daphne felt herself relax.

As they ate dinner, the wine had loosened something in Daphne, making her brave enough to venture into territory she'd avoided until now. The candlelight caught the planes of Archer's face as he finished his lasagna, and she found herself leaning forward.

"Can I ask you something?" Her fingers traced the rim of her wine glass. "About your past?"

Archer's shoulders tensed, his jaw tightening. For a moment, she thought he'd shut down completely. Then he took a long drink of his wine.

"What do you want to know?"

"Why did you really leave your wing?"

His eyes locked onto hers, searching. The silence filled the space between them until Daphne thought she'd made a terrible mistake. Then he spoke, his voice low and controlled.

"I was second in command of the Black Claw wing. We were... brutal. Effective." He tapped his finger against the table. "I was one of their best fighters, helped keep the other wings in line through force."

Daphne's heart quickened as he continued, his words precise and measured.

"We had a... contentious relationship with Saltwater Grove. My wing leader enjoyed antagonizing the town, showing our superiority." His lip curled. "But that wasn't what ended it. He crossed a line I couldn't ignore - nothing to do with the town. We fought. Violently."

The candlelight caught a faint scar along his jaw that Daphne had never noticed before.

"So I did the one thing that would hurt him most." A dark smile played across Archer's lips. "I went to the Council with proof of everything illegal the wing had been doing. Things they'd suspected but could never prove. In exchange for my testimony, I got immunity, took my share of the wing's wealth, and bought my mansion."

He drained his wine glass. "And that's why half the town thinks I'm a traitor, and the other half thinks I'm a monster."

The weight of his confession hung in the air between them. Daphne sat perfectly still, processing everything he'd revealed, understanding for the first time why he kept himself so isolated.

Daphne started twisting her napkin in her lap, gathering courage before meeting Archer's intense gaze.

"Do you regret it?" she asked softly. "Turning them in?"

Archer's finger tapped against the table once, twice, before he answered. "No. I regret being part of it in the first place. Regret that my reasons for leaving weren't more... noble." His lips quirked into a self-deprecating smile. "I didn't do it to save the town or right any wrongs. I did it because I was angry."

The admission touched something deep inside Daphne. Here was the feared dragon shifter, the one who made townspeople cross the street when they saw him coming, sharing his vulnerabilities with her. Her heart swelled with the trust he was placing in her.

"But you're making up for it now," she said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she felt him tense briefly before relaxing. "You're helping protect the town from Carmen. That counts for something."

"Does it?" His voice was gruff, but he hadn't pulled his hand away. "Or am I just finding another excuse to fight?"

"You could have said no when the Council asked for help." Daphne smiled, remembering their first meeting. "In fact, you did say no, until someone convinced you otherwise."

"Someone rather persistent," he agreed, his eyes softening as they met hers. "With an annoying habit of seeing the best in people."

"Not annoying," she protested, laughing. "Optimistic. There's a difference."

"If you say so." He turned his hand over beneath hers. His thumb brushed across her knuckles, making her pulse quicken. "Though I'm starting to think you might be right about a few things."

The waiter approached with fresh bread, and Daphne reluctantly withdrew her hand, her skin tingling where he'd touched her. She watched as Archer's commanding presence returned, ordering more wine with the casual authority that seemed so natural to him.

Daphne soon dabbed her napkin at the corner of her mouth, savoring the last bite of tiramisu. The evening had flown by, each moment with Archer making her forget about Carmen and the looming threat to their town. Her phone buzzed - another text from Hugo reminding her about their meeting.

"I should get going," she said reluctantly. "Hugo's expecting me."

Archer's eyes fixed on her with that intensity that gave her butterflies in her stomach. "I'll walk you."

"No need." She smiled, touched by his protectiveness. "Hugo's place isn't far, and you've already treated me to dinner."

"It's not safe to walk alone." His jaw set in that stubborn way she was becoming familiar with.

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