redith.
I hated that I had to be standing when Draven casually strolled into my room like he owned the floor beneath his feet. And of course, he did.
His shoulder-length black hair looked freshly washed, glistening faintly under the chandelier’s amber glow. Shampooed.
I didn’t know why that annoyed , but it did. Long hair on n always seed impractical to . All that swaying and brushing past shoulders—it irritated .
Mada Beatrice and the rest of the servants bowed as he entered, each movent crisp and precise, just like they were trained.
Draven’s Beta, Jeffery, stood just behind him, head dipped in acknowledgnt but still sharp-eyed, alert.
I remained still. I had no intention of bowing or curtseying to him. Not tonight.
But then Mada Beatrice’s subtle gaze found . That cold, expectant look. I felt the pressure of it like an invisible hand on my back. Reluctantly, I dipped into a brief curtsey. I said nothing, though. I could feel Draven’s gaze resting on , heavy as stone.
When I lifted my head, he was still staring—his expression unreadable, eyes like glass. Silent. Watching.
Then, without a word, he looked away and moved past .
But then, a scoff slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and he stopped in his steps.
My breath hitched. Draven turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing, his posture shifting—not aggressive, but suddenly sharper. My heartbeat jumped painfully. I dropped my gaze imdiately, thinking of how foolish my actions had been.
I had underestimated how sharp his senses were. Werewolves with wolves had hearing far beyond mine. I should’ve rembered that. I cursed myself inwardly. No wolf, no instincts.
It was monts like this that reminded how inferior I was.
Thankfully, Draven didn’t pursue my disrespectful actions. He continued forward, toward the dining table.
I waited until I heard the creak of a chair before I dared lift my head. He was seated now, his Beta having pulled the chair at the head of the table for him. Draven sat like a king surveying his temporary court.
Mada Beatrice motioned for to join them. I hesitated, then forced my feet to move. As I reached the table, Jeffery—ever the perfect Beta—pulled out the seat to Draven’s right.
I had wanted to sit across from him, as far from his presence as possible. But now, I was beside him.
I clenched my teeth and sat down. Then I reached for the napkin and spread it neatly across my thighs.
"Thank you," Draven said to Mada Beatrice, giving her a glance. "That will be all."
The servants began to leave. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or unsettled. I didn’t enjoy eating under Beatrice’s watchful eye, but being alone with Draven was worse.
Except, apparently, we weren’t completely alone.
"You," Draven said, his voice directed at soone behind . "Stay back."
I turned slightly and saw his gaze land on Azul.
My brows pulled together. Of all the servants, he let her stay?
Mada Beatrice left without protest, taking Deidra, Kira, and the rest with her. Azul remained, quiet as a shadow, standing off to the side.
Jeffery didn’t leave either. Of course not. He stood with a poised stillness beside the wine bottle, waiting.
"How are you finding the guest quarters?" Draven asked suddenly, turning toward .
I stiffened. Here it was—his opening move. A casual question that would lead to sothing else.
"Fine," I said. "Very comfortable. I enjoy being away from noise... and unwanted company."
He tilted his head and nodded slowly, as if taking the words at face value. But then he asked, "You don’t like other people’s company. What are you hiding?"
I bit back another scoff. "Nothing," I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. "Unlike so people. I simply enjoy peace and quiet. It’s divine. You should try it."
Azul stepped forward to begin serving the food while Jeffery retrieved the wine and uncorked it with a practiced twist.
Draven didn’t look away. "I’d like to," he said softly, "but unlike so people, I’m busy. I have a duty. A commitnt to our race."
A subtle jab. I felt it land like a slap. I swallowed around the lump in my throat.
"Good for you," I muttered, reaching for the wine glass Jeffery had just filled.
I wasn’t drinking it for the taste. Quenching my anger was more important, so I lifted the glass and downed it in one go.
By the ti I set the glass back down, I could feel the stares.
Jeffery had frozen mid-pour, the wine bottle hovering. Azul’s lashes fluttered faintly as she placed a chicken thigh on my plate. Draven smirked and looked away, shaking his head slightly like he was amused.
He was enjoying this. Enjoying my deflated pride to his sharp retorts.
Jeffery refilled my glass once again and returned the bottle to the center of the table before moving away. At the sa ti, Azul moved quickly, serving the side dishes, then stepped back.
Draven picked up his glass and swirled the red liquid inside, watching from over the rim. "What are you angry about?"
"I’m not," I answered flatly, sparing him a glance.
He smiled. "You’re sitting next to a werewolf with a wolf, redith. I can sll your rage."
I gritted my teeth. ’You can sll it,’ I thought bitterly, ’but you can’t tell you are the cause?’
He was still watching . Waiting. But I said nothing.
"If sothing or sothing is bothering you," he added, lifting the glass to his lips, "you’re free to tell ."
I looked at Jeffery. At Azul. I couldn’t say what I wanted to—not with them here. Not when Mada Beatrice’s warning still echoed in my head about disrespecting their Alpha.
Instead, I simply nodded, offering nothing more.
Draven was already slicing into a roasted cherry tomato, slow and neat, chewing without concern.
I picked up my fork, grateful for the silence at last. The greens on my plate blurred slightly. I went for the chicken instead, cutting a small piece and lifting it to my mouth.
But just before I could take a bite, He stabbed another piece of tomato, glanced sideways at , and spoke with casual ease.
"How did you get that scar on your face?"
I froze, the fork in my hand, stopping mid-air.
Slowly, I lowered the fork back to the plate and shut my eyes as my appetite vanished like a snuffed-out fla.
And for one quiet mont, I pictured pulling Draven’s tongue out of his mouth and imdiately liked that idea.
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