[redith].
Today, I wanted calm, not glamour. So, I reached for the powder, dusted it lightly across my cheeks, then traced a line of nude lipstick over my lips.
When I leaned back, the effect was soft, almost serene.
My long silver hair hung loose down my back. I gathered it up, twisted it into a ssy updo, and pinned it in place, a few strands escaping to fra my face.
A faint smile tugged at my lips—it was imperfect, but I liked it that way.
Next ca the perfu: a hint of strawberry misted at my pulse. Then, from the jewellery shelf, I picked a gold wristwatch and a pair of tiny full-stop earrings.
As I clasped the watch around my wrist and raised the first earring, the sound of the door opening reached .
I looked up—and there he was.
Draven stood in the doorway, a towel knotted loosely around his waist, his hair damp and tousled from the shower. Droplets still clung to his collarbone, catching the morning light.
Our eyes t in the mirror. He didn’t speak at first; instead, he just watched , the corner of his mouth curving slightly.
"You are already dressed," he said finally, voice low and faintly teasing.
I turned slightly toward him, the earring still in my fingers. "Soone had to set an example. Or were you hoping for a different view?"
He chuckled and walked closer, the quiet confidence of his steps filling the room. When he reached , he leaned one hand against the vanity table beside my arm, lowering his gaze until his reflection hovered just behind mine.
"I thought I was the one who set examples," he murmured.
"Well, for this mont, you are the one who ignores them," I countered softly.
His reflection smiled; his real lips were inches from my ear. "Only when it cos to you."
The air between us thickened. Draven’s nearness carried a quiet gravity; his breath brushed the side of my neck before he even spoke.
I fastened the earring quickly, trying to hide the small tremor in my hand.
"You sll like strawberries," he murmured, the words half a whisper, half a sigh. "Sweet enough to eat."
I smiled faintly, catching his reflection in the mirror. "Careful. You will be late for breakfast if you keep thinking about food."
"I wasn’t talking about breakfast."
His voice had dropped to that low, playful timbre that always made my pulse quicken. I tilted my head just enough to et his eyes in the mirror. I understood him clearly now.
"Then you will have to wait until later tonight," I said softly.
That single word changed the air between us. His hand slid lightly along my arm until it found my fingers.
"Promise ," he said quietly, his tone halfway between teasing and serious.
I turned my head a little, smiling despite myself. "I promise."
He didn’t seem entirely convinced; instead, he leaned closer, wrapping his arms around from behind. His lips brushed my cheek, then the curve of my neck, sending small shivers that tangled with laughter I couldn’t hold in.
"Draven," I said between giggles, pressing a hand to his arm.
He only chuckled, the sound deep and low near my ear. "You can’t bla ."
For a heartbeat, the mont stretched—his warmth surrounding , his scent mixing with the faint strawberry notes on my skin. Then, catching my own reflection in the mirror, I realized I was smiling like soone caught between affection and surrender.
With a soft laugh, I turned in his arms, eting the intensity in his gaze head-on. "You need to get dressed," I told him gently.
He sighed, mock-defeated, and released . "You always ruin my best plans."
"Only when it’s necessary," I said, standing to my feet and stepping back as he moved toward his side of the wardrobe.
He gave a look over his shoulder—equal parts amused and hungry—but didn’t argue. As he began choosing his clothes, I slipped away quietly to the bedroom, my laughter trailing behind as I settled on the edge of the bed.
---
A few minutes passed before I heard the faint sound of footsteps behind .
Draven erged from the dressing room dressed simply—black pants, a plain shirt that fit easily against the lines of his shoulders, his long dark hair tied back neatly at the nape of his neck.
He looked more relaxed, but still every inch the Alpha.
"We will be eating with my father this morning," he said as he approached.
My smile faltered before I could stop it. I had half expected and half hoped that it would be just the two of us this morning.
The thought of another formal al under Randall Oatrun’s calm, assessing stare made my stomach tighten.
Draven caught the shift in my expression imdiately. His tone softened. "It’s just breakfast, redith."
"I know," I murmured, forcing a small smile. "It’s just that—"
He stepped closer, waiting for to finish.
"—your father still... unsettles a little," I admitted quietly. "He is not exactly warm toward ."
Draven’s hand ca up, fingers brushing a stray strand of silver hair from my face. "He’s not warm toward anyone," he said dryly. "Don’t take it personally."
"That’s easy for you to say," I replied with a faint chuckle that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
He studied for a mont, then his voice lowered, quieter but firm. "If you want a piece of advice—don’t let him see that fear. Hide it, or better yet, erase it."
I looked up at him. "You think he would use it against ?"
He nodded once. "n like my father can sll uncertainty the way wolves sll blood. If he senses weakness, he will test it. If he doesn’t find any, he will respect you, even if he won’t admit it."
Sothing in his tone—calm, reassuring, self-assured—made breathe more easily.
I drew in a slow breath and nodded. "Then I will make sure he sees none of it."
Draven’s lips curved faintly. "That’s my Luna."
He extended his hand to , palm open and steady. I placed mine in his, letting him help to my feet. His fingers tightened briefly, grounding before he turned toward the door.
"Co on," he said quietly. "It’s ti to face him."
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