Draven.
"You won’t," Rhovan replied.
"I don’t believe that."
I drew in a breath, my voice rough as I admitted, "I can’t let that happen until I am certain I won’t harm her."
Rhovan was silent for a long mont. Then his tone softened, steady and confident. "You don’t have to be afraid. That will not happen again. Not now."
My brows furrowed, my pulse still racing.
"Now that your love for her has been established," he continued, "now that your bond has grown, and the storm has passed, it is only right you mark her. And let her mark you."
My chest tightened as redith stirred against once more, her breath hot on my skin, the taste of her words still lingering from earlier: You sll nice... maybe you taste nice too.
I shut my eyes briefly, fighting the pull.
Finally, I exhaled a long, slow breath. "Not like this. She’s drunk, and not in her right senses, Rhovan. I will think about it another ti."
Rhovan didn’t argue, though I felt his approval in the silence.
redith’s breath settled slightly against my neck, though she still murmured incoherently, lips brushing my skin.
I tightened my hold and steadied her. Then, deciding that this place wasn’t where she needed to be, I shifted carefully, sliding one arm under her knees.
In one smooth motion, I lifted her against my chest. She stirred faintly, her head nestling into the hollow of my shoulder, but she didn’t wake fully.
So, I stepped out of my study and let my strides carry down the hall, and then towards the stairs, steady and unhurried.
Anyone who saw us would know better than to ask questions.
Finally arriving at my chambers, I pushed the door open with my shoulder and stepped inside. The familiar heat of the room wrapped around us imdiately.
I lowered her onto the bed with care, her silver hair fanning across the pillows. For a mont, I simply stood there, looking down at her.
This was a woman who had so much strength in her, yet this morning, she was undone by the weight of her past.
Letting out a sigh, I pulled the covers over her, tucking them gently around her shoulders. Her hand shifted instinctively, searching. I caught it, held it for a mont, then set it softly back against the sheets.
She didn’t stir anymore.
Leaning down, I pressed a slow kiss to her forehead, breathing in her scent. "Sleep," I whispered, my voice barely a rasp. "You are safe here."
---
~**redith**~
When I blinked awake, the first thing I saw was the ceiling.
A soft groan escaped my lips as I gently pushed myself up. My head throbbed, not unbearable but enough to remind that sothing had gone wrong earlier.
Then it dawned on that this was Draven’s bedroom.
My heart skipped. ’How... how did I end up here?’
Fragnts of mory surged back, like shards of broken glass snapping into place.
My hand clutching a glass. The sweet creaminess on my tongue. The warmth of Draven’s embrace. His unwavering gaze. His silence as I poured out my heart, confessions I had kept locked away for years, spilling one after another.
And then... my lips on his neck.
Heat surged through , mortification tightening my chest. "Oh gods," I groaned, covering my face with both hands. "Why would I do that?"
I let my palms fall away, muttering under my breath, "Stupid drink. Who makes sothing so sweet that dangerous?"
Another groan escaped, this one partly of self-pity, partly of resignation.
That was when I felt Valmora stir.
"How are you?" Valmora’s voice brushed softly through my mind, gentle and cautious, as if she didn’t want to startle .
I paused, then took a mont to honestly check myself inwardly. My chest, usually heavy after dredging up old wounds, felt strangely light. My shoulders didn’t ache with tension. My thoughts weren’t swirling like a storm.
"I feel... lighter," I whispered, almost surprised to hear my own voice admit it.
Valmora sighed with relief within . "Good. That’s all that matters."
I closed my eyes briefly. She was right. For the first ti in years, I had ripped open every painful scar, let them bleed, and instead of festering, sothing in felt healed.
My mind drifted to Mabel, to her furious face, to her words that had cut like blades. But instead of the usual ache or anger, I felt only silence.
There was no trace of bitterness or resentnt. Just... release.
I exhaled slowly. Maybe Draven hadn’t realized it, but listening to —really listening —had done sothing I never thought possible.
After a few monts of inward reflection, the door clicked open, and my head jerked towards it.
Draven stepped in, his strides calm and steady, carrying a small tray with a glass of water and a vial I didn’t recognize.
His gaze found mine imdiately, sharp as ever, but this ti softer at the edges.
"You are awake," he said, his voice low but firm, as though stating a fact he was relieved about.
I quickly sat up straighter, though my head protested with a dull throb. He noticed—of course, he noticed—and crossed the room in long strides, setting the tray on the nightstand.
"This will help with the headache," he said, as he poured a few drops from the vial into the water before handing it to . His hand lingered just long enough to steady mine as I took it.
I muttered a quiet ’thank you’ before sipping. The bitterness of the tonic clashed with the sweetness I still rembered from earlier, and I wrinkled my nose.
Draven’s lips curled slightly, barely noticeable, but I caught it. "I saw that you drank half a bottle of sothing ant to be sipped slowly. Why?"
Instantly, heat crept up my neck. "It was sweet," I muttered defensively, lowering the glass. "Too sweet. I didn’t even realize—"
"—that you were drinking alcohol?" His brow arched.
I glared at him half-heartedly. "You should have labelled it properly. Who keeps sothing that tastes like dessert but works like poison?"
That earned a soft chuckle. He leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest in that maddeningly composed way of his. "So now it’s my fault?"
"Yes," I said firmly, though my lips betrayed by twitching. "Entirely your fault. You shouldn’t keep a drink like that in plain sight."
He tilted his head, watching with that quiet intensity that always made feel as if he was reading beneath my words.
Then, deliberately, his tone softened into teasing. "Next ti, should I lock the cabinet? Or assign a guard to it?"
"Very funny." I almost rolled my eyes, recalling how he had given a little bit to drink yesterday morning.
But deep down, I understood why Draven was teasing now. He didn’t want to sit here drowning in awkwardness over everything I had told him earlier.
He was giving sothing lighter to hold onto instead.
And for that, I silently thanked him.
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