Page 4 of Dark Rebel's Fortune

Kyra had only been to downtown Los Angeles, so she thought that the rest of the city was like that as well, but most of it was spread out horizontally rather than vertically.

"I'll give you a proper tour when we get back," he said.

Her lips curved into a small smile. "I'd like that."

Max navigated the car onto the highway that would take them inland toward the foothills. Nestled among them was the airstrip that the clan maintained for their private use.

"Nice car," Kyra finally commented, her hand running appreciatively over the leather dashboard. "Not exactly inconspicuous, though."

Max chuckled. "I'm not a spy, and I don't use it on missions. It's for my private use." He cast her a sidelong glance. "What's the point of accumulating wealth if not to spend at least some of it on indulgences?"

"I wouldn't know." She looked out the window. "I've never had much."

That made him feel like a spoiled brat, and that was not how he wanted her to see him. "There's something to be said for driving a vehicle that can outrun almost anything on the road."

There. A legitimate excuse for spending an insane amount on a car.

"Planning on making a getaway?" Kyra teased, one eyebrow arched.

He shrugged. "One never knows. Five centuries of fighting has taught me that every advantage, be it a better weapon or a better escape vehicle, can mean the difference between victory and failure, life and death."

She laughed—a sound he was finding increasingly addictive. The way it transformed her face, softeningher hard edges, made his chest inflate with an emotion he was still getting used to.

"That's an awesome excuse to get a fancy toy, Max. But I get it. You've earned it. Enjoy."

They fell back into comfortable silence, and as the scenery changed into a boring urban sprawl, Max let his mind drift to the previous night.

After Kyra had fallen asleep, lulled by his singing, he'd spent nearly an hour just watching her, marveling at how peaceful she looked in slumber, how the fierce warrior façade dissolved into something softer, more vulnerable.

It had been intimate in a way that transcended physical connection.

Sex was easy. Max had centuries of experience in that department, but this was new territory for him. The fact that she'd asked him to stay, to simply hold her through the night, meant more to him than if she'd wanted him for sex.

Fates knew he'd had enough of those kind of nights and not enough of what he'd shared with Kyra last night.

"You're smiling," she said.

"Am I?" He glanced at her, not bothering to hide his grin.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Last night," he admitted. "Holding you while you slept."

She held his gaze. "It has been a long time since I've slept so soundly. Usually, I keep one eye open, soto speak." She paused, then added, "I don't remember ever feeling so safe."

Coming from Kyra, who had survived two decades as a resistance fighter in one of the world's most dangerous regions, the admission felt monumental.

Max reached across the console to take her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm glad that I make you feel safe."

Her fingers intertwined with his. "Yeah, me too. It was nice knowing that someone I trusted was watching my back. Literally."

When he turned into the unmarked dirt road that seemed to lead nowhere, Max slowed, carefully navigating the luxury sports car over the rough terrain.

"This vehicle is not exactly designed for off-roading," Kyra noted, bracing her hand on the dashboard as they bounced along.

"Don't worry, it's only about half a mile of this, and then we hit the paved section. This is just to confuse the enemy, so no one suspects it actually leads anywhere." Max patted the dashboard apologetically. "Sorry, baby."

Kyra snorted. "Do you always talk to your car like it's your girlfriend?"

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