redith.
"Draven!" I turned to him, exasperated. "What are you waiting for?"
He turned, calmly, deliberately. "I want to catch one, redith. Not scare them off," he said, reminding of his goal.
I was stunned. My mouth opened, but I had no imdiate words.
"Soone could get hurt," I said at last. "Soone innocent could die."
Draven’s eyes didn’t waver. "Then that person is destined to return to their ancestors."
I stared at him, heart thudding. That was harsh. But then again... he wasn’t like .
I wanted to argue. I wanted to say he was being reckless and cold—but deep down, I also knew that Draven never made a decision lightly.
And if he was willing to risk casualties, it ant this plan held greater importance than I could fully grasp.
So, I let it go for now.
"You know more about this than I do," I murmured. "So, I won’t interfere."
He tilted his head, and I saw a hint of approval flicker behind his usually stoic features.
"When you beco a warrior," he said, "then we will begin to think alike. Until then... I welco your opposing views."
I managed a small smile, though my stomach was still knotted tight with nerves. "See you at the dinner table," I said, turning toward the door.
But just as I reached for the handle, I felt his hand wrap around my waist and pull back gently.
His arms encircled from behind, firm but warm.
My breath hitched. I couldn’t even take another step forward.
Draven said nothing. He just rested his forehead lightly against the back of my head, his silence speaking volus.
His breath brushed softly against the side of my neck.
There was sothing different in the way he held —not possessive like the Alpha, not demanding like a commander—but steady, quiet, unspoken—a rare mont of peace within the storm that had beco our daily lives.
His warmth seeped into my spine, his heartbeat a slow, calm rhythm that sohow matched mine. I closed my eyes for a mont, allowing myself to lean just slightly into him. Just slightly.
"You’ve been different lately," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
I felt his chest rise and fall behind . "You an calr," he muttered against my hair.
"No," I smiled faintly, tilting my head just enough to glance at him over my shoulder. "I ant softer."
Draven huffed under his breath. "Don’t let anyone hear you say that."
"Too late," I teased. "The walls have ears."
A small chuckle escaped him—quiet, but real. Then one of his hands moved from my waist and slowly brushed the edge of my arm, fingers trailing the curve of my elbow.
I turned fully to face him, and we were standing so close now that I could see the subtle shadows beneath his silver eyes.
His gaze dropped to my lips, then returned to et mine with that sa unreadable expression he always wore—except this ti, it wasn’t completely unreadable.
There was sothing softer there. Sothing warr. Like fire that had lost its rage but retained its heat.
He raised one hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
My chest tightened, not in pain, not in panic, but in sothing else.
"I’ve missed this," I admitted before I could stop myself.
Draven’s hand lingered near my cheek. "Missed what?"
"This. Us. When we are not at each other’s throats."
His thumb grazed the side of my jaw. "It’s easier not to fight when you’re not always provoking ."
I rolled my eyes and swatted his arm playfully. "You started it."
"I apologized, didn’t I?" he replied, lowering his voice, as if teasing had suddenly turned into sothing more aningful.
I looked into his eyes for a mont longer. "Yes. You did."
That answer lingered in the air between us, thick with all the unsaid things neither of us knew how to express just yet.
I didn’t need him to say sorry again. And I didn’t need to hear confessions or declarations.
But I did need this.
Him.
Like this.
I took a breath, bracing myself—and then, slowly, I reached up and cupped his face in both hands.
Draven’s eyes widened just slightly, as if he wasn’t expecting the tenderness.
Maybe he thought I’d push him away. Perhaps I thought I would, too. But I didn’t.
"You’re not as cold as you pretend to be," I murmured.
His brows drew together, and I could see the tension fight its way back into his shoulders—so I rose on my toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Not his lips, just the corner.
It was safer that way.
When I pulled back, his expression was unreadable again—but now, I could sense the storm beneath it—his longing.
And yet... he didn’t say a word.
Instead, he leaned in—slowly, deliberately—and rested his forehead against mine.
I thought we were done with the mont, that this would be the end of it—a silent truce, a gentle understanding.
But then his fingers slid beneath my chin.
Before I could blink or brace, Draven tilted my face upward and captured my lips.
It wasn’t demanding, not at first. Not the usual heat I was used to from him. It was soft, careful—as though he was rediscovering sothing he thought he’d lost.
I froze, but only for a mont.
Then my eyes fluttered shut and I lted into the kiss, my hands instinctively rising to grip the fabric of his shirt.
His mouth was warm, steady. His lips moved against mine like a vow being made without words—slow, deep, deliberate.
But sothing shifted.
I felt it. And so did he.
His hands tightened at my waist, drawing closer. My breath caught in my throat, and then our mouths t again — this ti less hesitant, more urgent.
The second kiss stole the softness from the first and replaced it with sothing hungrier, more possessive, like he needed this. Like I needed this.
His palm pressed against the small of my back, my body flush against his.
Our lips moved in sync, the kiss deepening until it made my knees tremble and my heart race.
I broke away, gasping, and so did he. Our breaths mingled in the small space between us, foreheads pressed together once more, but this ti the energy between us crackled like wildfire.
My lips tingled. My heart thudded wildly in my chest.
Draven’s fingers trailed slowly down my arms, then settled again at my waist, anchoring in place
"I should go," I whispered breathlessly, unable to et his eyes for a second. "It’s almost ti for dinner... and I need to get ready."
His mouth twitched — not quite a smirk, but sothing warr.
"I will be waiting," he murmured, his voice low, rough with restrained desire. "Co to after dinner."
He leaned back slightly, just enough for our eyes to lock again.
"I will need your warmth... until it’s ti to hunt."
My pulse skipped.
I nodded slowly — the weight of his words sinking deep beneath my skin — and then stepped away from him, leaving behind the comfort of his arms and the heat of his gaze.
But not before stealing one last glance.
And the way he looked at ... Like he would devour if I didn’t leave imdiately.
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