Tempting the Huntress

Chapter 5- It's not a date!

Chapter 5

“Finally, I was starting to think you didn’t like me.”

Zane’s voice carried easily over the hum of the café. He was already there, seated at a corner table by the window, sunlight slanting across him like he belonged in a magazine spread rather than Ravenshore’s oldest boulangerie.

Smart. Crisp. Fresh. Not a trace of engine grease, leather dust, or that lazy smirk she had mentally prepared to shred.

Lilith stopped dead at the threshold, cursing silently. She had planned on him being late; of course, he’d be late. She’d even rehearsed the part where she rolled her eyes, checked her watch, and left without ordering. But no. The man had the audacity to be early.

Worse, to look good while doing it.

Her boots clicked against the tiled floor as she approached, every step heavier than necessary. Of course, he would ruin my plan. She thought to herself.

“Lilith,” he said, rising smoothly as she reached the table. And then, because apparently today was designed to test her patience, he pulled out her chair like some kind of gentleman.

She froze for a half-second before sitting, slow, deliberate, like she was doing him a favor.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said coolly, settling in and crossing her arms. “I don’t like you.”

Zane leaned across the table, all warm grin and effortless mischief, as if her words were air. “We’ll see.”

That infuriating spark danced in his eyes, the one that said he was playing a game he had no intention of losing. Well, neither did she!

Lilith inhaled, steadying herself, and glanced toward the menu, though she wasn’t really reading it. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d already unsettled her. But her pulse betrayed her, quick against her skin, as though her body hadn’t gotten the memo about who she was dealing with.

And Zane? Zane sat there like he had all the time in the world, studying her with the same intensity he might reserve for a puzzle only he could solve.

The scent around her was overwhelming. Buttery croissants, melted chocolate, and coffee roasted dark enough to scrape the back of her throat. The boulangerie was a trap, a warm one. She hated that her stomach tightened at the smell, reminding her she hadn’t eaten properly since yesterday’s grueling training drills.

This was a common trait; she lost track of everything when she was training.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting Zane in gold like the universe had conspired to frame him. Unfair. Unforgivable.

“You’re not reading that,” Zane said casually, leaning back in his chair, eyes locked on her. His voice was low enough that it threaded beneath the hum of clinking cups and murmured conversations. “You’re too busy trying not to notice me.”

Her head snapped up, a glare sharp enough to cut. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe.” His grin tilted, reckless. “But your jaw’s a little tight, and your hand hasn’t moved from the same corner of the menu for three minutes.”

Lilith snapped the menu shut, crisp, controlled. “I don’t like being observed.”

“That’s funny,” he said, leaning forward this time, elbows braced against the table. “Because I get the feeling you’re doing the exact same thing to me.”

She hated that he was right, again. Her hunter’s instincts refused to quiet; they catalogued everything. The way his shirt clung cleanly across his shoulders, the tap of his finger against his cup in a steady rhythm, the easy confidence in his posture that said he belonged anywhere, even here. Even with her.

Not just him, she also noticed everything around with precision. From her periphery, she could see a waiter carrying the knife with the wrong balance, a man helping a woman put on her coat, some kids entering the bakery, and a woman at the table typing with anger.

The waitress appeared then, smiling brightly, tray balanced against one hip. “Bonjour! What can I get you both?”

Lilith opened her mouth, but Zane beat her to it. “Two café crèmes. And two pain au chocolat.”

Lilith bristled. “I didn’t ask for—”

“Trust me,” he interrupted smoothly, eyes locked on hers, ignoring the waitress who scribbled the order with a smile before drifting away. “You’ll thank me for it.”

She narrowed her eyes, but her traitorous stomach growled softly under the table. Zane’s grin widened at the sound.

Lilith sat straighter, spine like steel. “This is not a date.”

“Of course not.” He stretched the words, lazy, teasing. “This is you paying me back for the car.” He leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “And if you happen to enjoy yourself? Well… accidents happen.”

Her pulse skipped, and she hated herself for it. Zane knew; she could see it in the flash of his eyes, in the way he held her gaze like he was already winning a game she hadn’t agreed to play.

“Okay, enough with you throwing a dagger at me with your eyes.” His smile dimmed a bit, and his voice deepened, but he still wasn’t rude. “You finally changed your mind and agreed to come here, enjoy this.” His voice was soft and disturbingly undoing knots inside her. She hated dominance, but his was attractive. Yep, she was losing her mind. “Just an hour, that’s it.”

Lilith exhaled, sharp, steady, and placed her dagger-like focus back on the table. She had survived trials, scars, and the weight of the Rothwell legacy. She would not be undone by one man in a boulangerie.

Still… the scent of coffee thickened, the chocolate lingered in the air, and Zane’s presence pressed closer than she wanted to admit.

And for the first time in years, Lilith Rothwell wondered if maybe she wasn’t as untouchable as she believed.

She leaned back and relaxed a bit. For anyone else, there was no change, but by Lilith’s definition, it was almost like she was lounging at the beach by letting go of a bit of her control.

The waitress returned. She slid two steaming café crèmes onto the table, the rich aroma curling up like smoke, then set down the pastries. The pain au chocolat gleamed, its golden layers flaking at the edges, a sheen of melted chocolate just visible where the pastry had split.

Lilith’s hunter’s instincts were honed to notice weakness in enemies, not in herself. But right now? Her weakness was butter, sugar, and the fact that her mouth watered before she could stop it.

Zane leaned back in his chair, watching with that insufferable smirk tugging at his mouth. “See? Told you. Worth it.”

She arched a brow, tearing a piece of pastry with deliberate slowness, pretending not to care as the delicate crust shattered under her fingers. The first bite, warm and buttery, melted on her tongue, rich chocolate cutting through with sinful precision. Her body betrayed her, a hum low in her throat before she could smother it.

Zane’s grin broke wide. “Oh, that sounded like enjoyment. Careful, dagger-girl. Someone might think you’re human after all.”

She shot him a glare sharp enough to kill. “Don’t push it.”

“I don’t have to push,” he said easily, sipping his coffee, watching her over the rim. “I just sit back and let you realize you like being here.”

She scoffed, tearing another bite, and hated that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, filled only by the clink of spoons against porcelain and the low murmur of the café. Then, Zane leaned forward, elbows on the table, his grin softening into something she wasn’t prepared for.

“So,” he said, voice lower, steadier, “what made you change your mind?”

Lilith froze. That was not the line she’d expected. Not teasing. Not smug. Just… curious.

She toyed with the edge of her cup, the steam curling against her skin. “I didn’t. This isn’t me changing my mind. This is me gathering information.”

“Information?” His lips twitched, but he didn’t laugh. “About me?”

“About Ravenshore.” Her voice was cool, clipped. She forced herself to meet his gaze, unflinching. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late,” he said, but there was no cockiness this time, just a flicker of something gentler, gone as quickly as it came. He stirred his coffee, eyes momentarily on the swirl of cream instead of her. “You know, you don’t have to keep pretending everything’s a strategy. It’s allowed to just… be coffee. Plain ol’ brown liquid.”

Lilith blinked, thrown off balance. She opened her mouth for a sharp retort, but instead, what came out was a laugh, short, unguarded, slipping past her control before she could choke it down at the same joke he made at the garage. It wasn’t even funny, I don’t know what tripped her.

She immediately bit her lip, furious with herself, but Zane’s eyes lit like he’d just scored the rarest victory.

“There it is,” he murmured, leaning back with a smile that wasn’t his usual cocky smirk. Softer. Triumphant in a quieter way. “Knew I’d get one.”

Lilith shook her head, setting her cup down with a deliberate clink. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late for that, too.”

She caught herself staring then, at the way his jaw shifted when he grinned, at the faint scar that curved near his temple, at how his eyes weren’t just gold but rimmed in storm-gray, like they couldn’t decide what they wanted to be.

Her stomach tightened, not from hunger this time, but from something far more dangerous. She dragged her gaze back to the pastry in her hands, as if the chocolate could save her from herself.

This was not a date. She wouldn’t let it be.

And yet, as Zane lifted his cup, eyes still on her, that soft grin tugging at his mouth, Lilith wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was already losing ground.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward, and that unsettled her most of all. She wasn’t supposed to feel… comfortable. Not with him.

“So,” Zane drawled, breaking it, “is this the part where you interrogate me? Find out all my dark secrets? Or are you still pretending this is strictly business?”

She flicked him a look sharp enough to cut, but her lips curved despite herself. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I’ve got someone worth annoying.” He leaned back, stretching one arm across the chair, casual in a way that was anything but careless. “Besides, silence makes you dangerous. You think too much. I can see it.”

Lilith tilted her head. “And what is it you think I’m thinking about?”

He grinned, but then, to her irritation, didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tapped his finger against the table, his gaze flicking over her face, steady, thoughtful. “About how every move I make is calculated. And about how badly you want to deny that you’re even curious.”

Her breath hitched, though she masked it with another sip of coffee. Damn him. She was supposed to be the one dissecting him.

“And to answer you, none of these moves was calculated; you are intriguing and very beautiful, and it was natural for me to try my shot to get to know you a little.”

Her cheeks burned at his sincere words. She changed the subject before he could push further. “So what is it you actually do? Besides lurking in garages and harassing strangers with bad jokes?”

“Strangers?” His brows arched. “Ouch. I thought we were at least acquaintances now.” He smirked, then let it soften. “I work most of the time, and rest is for the family.”

There was something in the way he said it—light on the surface, but weighted underneath—that made her pause. She couldn’t understand how some could talk about their family in such a warm way. Apparently, not everyone’s was broken like hers.

They slipped into a rhythm then, the conversation darting from Ravenshore’s quirks to the worst coffee she’d ever tasted to the ridiculous names people gave their dogs. Lilith found herself laughing once, twice, short, sharp bursts she immediately regretted but couldn’t take back. And Zane… he wasn’t just tolerable. He was clever. Quick. He listened as much as he teased.

By the time the plates were cleared, Lilith realized with a jolt that an entire hour had passed. Easily. Too easily.

The waitress slid the check onto the table. Zane reached for it without hesitation, but Lilith’s hand shot out, fingers catching his wrist before she realized what she was doing.

His brows rose. “Going to wrestle me for it?” There was a little shake to his voice. If she wasn’t alarmed herself with the touch, she would have called him out for it.

She withdrew her hand quickly, heat prickling at the back of her neck. “No. But you’re not paying.”

“Lilith—”

She cut him off, sliding the folded bill onto the tray. “Maybe you can pay next time.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her chest tightened as if she’d just handed him a weapon.

For just a flicker, his grin slipped, surprise flashing raw and unguarded, before he caught it, twisting it back into that maddening smirk.

“Next time, huh?”