redith.
Draven withdrew his hand, leaning back, his expression shadowed by the firelight.
"This is why you think I am heartless in so of my decisions. But no, redith... it is simply letting my mind lead ."
His eyes darkened, voice dipping lower. "Sotis, I must make little sacrifices for the greater good. Even if it ans shedding innocent blood."
My stomach turned at the bluntness of it. My lips pressed together, unease prickling through .
As if sensing it, Draven’s mouth curved into a small smile. He lifted a hand to cup my face, his thumb brushing against my cheek. His touch was warm and steadying.
"You have much to learn," he said, softer now. "And I will be happy to put you through."
The reassurance should have soothed , but my chest tightened instead. His earlier words echoed sharply inside . Shedding innocent blood.
I caught his wrist gently, holding his hand against my face. "Draven," I whispered, searching his golden eyes, "I don’t like that. Innocent blood shouldn’t be shed. Not for anything."
His gaze deepened, unreadable. He didn’t pull away, but his silence weighed heavily.
"I know you’ve lived longer than ," I went on, my voice firr now though my heart pounded, "and you’ve seen things I can’t even imagine. But... killing innocents, doesn’t that make us no different from Brackham? From those who abuse their power?"
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the crackle of fire between us. His hand stayed on my face, unmoving.
Then he sighed, low and controlled, though his eyes never left mine. "You see, redith... this is why I say you still have much to learn." His tone was not cruel, but asured, like a teacher correcting a pupil.
"Sotis, we don’t have the luxury of clean choices. Sotis, sacrificing a few saves the many. I’ve carried that burden more tis than I care to count."
His words pressed against , heavy and cold. I wanted to argue, to fight it, but the certainty in his voice—the weight of lived experience made my throat tighten.
Still, I whispered, "I hope... I hope I never lose the part of that sees their blood as innocent."
Sothing flickered in his eyes then—pride, sorrow, perhaps both. He leaned closer, briefly pressing his forehead against mine.
"Hold onto it," he murmured. "That’s what makes you who you are. But know this, when the ti cos, you may not have a choice. And when that day cos, I will be there to carry it with you."
My breath caught, the mix of dread and comfort coiling inside . Draven was a man carved by necessity, and I—I was still learning what it ant to live under the weight of it.
But his words lingered against , heavy with truth, and for a long mont I couldn’t answer.
My heart ached to insist, to promise that I would never spill innocent blood. But deep down, I knew better.
Until I fully embraced the role of a leader, I couldn’t say what choices I would have to make.
Reality pressed at like a shadow. There might co a day when the greater good demanded a price I didn’t want to pay.
And if that day ca, I couldn’t say for sure that I would choose differently from him.
I drew in a slow breath, lowering my eyes. I couldn’t promise him my ideals. I could only promise to try.
The silence between us thickened and then shifted.
Suddenly, I felt Draven’s gaze sharpen, warm and unyielding, before he murmured, "I find myself... suddenly hungry for sothing."
I looked up, completely caught off guard by his statent, his golden eyes gleaming in the firelight.
"What is it you want?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, his hand moved precisely and deliberately, undoing the first button of my shirt with just one hand.
My breath stilled as his finger slid to tug at the collar, pulling it slightly aside as he brushed against my skin beneath. His eyes didn’t leave mine.
Heat rose to my cheeks, my pulse quickening. The air shifted, thickening with sothing no lesson, no lecture of leadership could prepare for.
"Draven..." I whispered, not as a protest but as a breath I couldn’t hold.
His mouth curved faintly, the kind of smile that promised he knew exactly what he was doing to .
Without rushing, he undid another button, exposing a little more of to the glow of the fire. His knuckles grazed my skin deliberately, leaving sparks in their wake.
My pulse pounded, each beat loud in my chest. The weight of all we had discussed seed to fade away, leaving only him, only us.
"I want this," he murmured, his voice low, rough with hunger.
Heat flooded at his words. I leaned closer, closing the space between us. "Then take it," I whispered back.
And he did, without hesitation.
His mouth claid mine, firm and possessive, yet softened by the warmth he reserved solely for .
My hand rose instinctively to his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath, the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His hand slid behind my neck, pulling deeper into him.
The sofa seed too small for the intensity of it. His fingers trailed along my collarbone, slipping beneath fabric, leaving fire wherever they touched.
My breath hitched, caught between the need to yield and the thrill of matching him.
When his lips left mine, they travelled to my jaw, my throat, each kiss sending waves through .
"redith," he murmured against my skin, my na more like a vow than a word.
I clutched at his shoulder, my body arching into his touch. Every thought of doubt, of politics, of power was gone entirely.
All that remained was the truth of him, of us, of the bond that tied to him so deeply it frightened and steadied all at once.
Draven’s mouth returned to mine with a hunger that stole my breath. His kiss deepened, consuming, his tongue claiming as if to remind I belonged to him.
My fingers clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, as I needed more of his warmth, his strength, and his unshakable presence.
My clothes shifted as his hand slid lower, cupping my waist before finding the curve of my hip. He tugged gently until I was straddling him, my knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his thighs.
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