On the lightcore, every male swore the same thing—they preferred being soothed in their own rooms, or in the female's. Since Drake wasn't bonded with Emma, there was no way she'd invite him into hers. The man on the couch paused for a moment when he heard this, then rose to his feet. "Come to my room, then." He figured lying on a bed would feel a hell of a lot better than sitting stiff on a couch. Emma didn't argue. She simply followed him in. But the moment she stepped inside, her jaw nearly hit the floor. Was this even the same villa room she owned? The starstone tiles were gone—replaced with glittering gemstones that sparkled under the lights. The strange-plant furniture she once had? Swapped out for materials she couldn't even name, but one look screamed expensive as hell. No way in the galaxy could someone like her afford this. And then…the bed. A massive bed built from Level 8 beast cores and insect cores. Her breath hitched. Level 8 beast cores. Each one went for ten billion star coins—if you were lucky enough to even find one. They were priceless treasures people fought to the death for. And this man… had casually used them to build a d*mn bed. Emma couldn't even imagine how much faster her Etherian abilities might grow if she slept on it just once. Obscenely rich. Beyond human. That was the only thought looping in her mind. Drake lounged half-upright on that outrageous bed, one hand propped against his temple. His sharp knuckles pressed lightly at his temple as his lips curved into the faintest smirk, watching Emma's wide-eyed shock with quiet amusement. This female was too transparent—every thought was written plain across her face. He didn't need to guess what she was thinking; her expressions betrayed it all. "You can start now." His deep voice snapped her back to her senses. Emma walked toward the bed, hesitated briefly at the empty space clearly left for her, then sat down. Standing to soothe him was far too exhausting, and Emma was never the type to make herself suffer needlessly. Her cool fingertips touched his forehead, and Drake half-lidded his eyes, drinking in her closeness. She was nearer than yesterday, and if he shifted his hand even slightly, he could pull her right into his arms. And that scent of hers… thicker than before. Impossible to describe, but addictive, teasing his self-control. Just breathing it in seemed to settle the restless storm in his mental consciousness. Her spiritual energy entered his mind again, smoother and more intoxicating than last time. Drake's eyes drifted closed in utter comfort. His hand at his waist shifted unconsciously, inching toward her until it nearly brushed her hip—like he was ready to claim her into his territory. By the time Emma was finished, her legs were jelly. Just like yesterday, she felt hollowed out, drained completely. She stood on shaky legs, her voice weak. "I'm going to rest. Probably won't be able to cook for you this afternoon or tonight." Without waiting for his reaction, she turned and slipped back to her own room. Emma expected to crash like yesterday and sleep an entire day and night away. But to her surprise, she woke after only ten hours.Eight in the evening. She sat up, feeling refreshed and even energetic. Ten hours. That was all it took to recover. A thought struck her—if she only needed this much sleep after soothing him, maybe she could do it at night from now on. That way, her days would stay free for other things. She'd have to bring it up to Drake later. Her stomach grumbled, cutting the thought short. She padded downstairs to cook, but paused halfway on the second floor. After a moment of hesitation, she turned toward Drake's room first. Knock, knock, knock. The door slid open automatically. Emma stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of him sprawled lazily on that obscene bed in his nightclothes. She asked politely, "Mr. Drake, I'm going to make dinner. Do you want some?" For a second, she thought she imagined it—but at the mention of dinner, the man sat up instantly. His piercing gaze swept her from head to toe. "Your energy's already recovered?" It was noticeably faster than yesterday. Emma nodded. "Somewhat. Not as weak as this morning. Cooking won't be a problem." She looked perfectly fine—too fine. Yet she claimed she'd "only recovered a little." This female… wasn't entirely honest. Drake let it slide. He was in a good mood, comfortably soothed, and didn't need her energy again just yet. "What's for dinner?" he asked. Emma thought for a moment. "Stir-fried beast meat, steamed crystal sea beast, a chilled herb salad, and a fruit salad. How does that sound?" The crystal sea beast was basically a transparent fish—best eaten steamed. Drake recognized the names, but he'd never tasted them. He nodded. "Need any help?"Emma shook her head quickly. "Nope. Just come down when it's ready." She wasn't about to let his men touch her kitchen—they'd only ruin everything.