Draven's Point Of View
I watched her. Truly watched her, drinking in every detail as if committing her to memory.
The air in the boardroom had transformed into something heavy and charged, like those breathless moments before a lightning strike. I could see its effect on her… the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the flush creeping across her skin under the clinical glow of overhead lights. Every reaction she tried to suppress only made itself more apparent.
She knelt on the expensive carpet, small yet defiant, but the way she looked at me held no trace of submission. Not the kind I craved, anyway. There was still fire in those eyes, still a spark of rebellion that made my pulse quicken.
I wanted to take. I wanted to devour. But more than that, I wanted her to choose it. I needed her surrender to be a gift, not a conquest. The difference mattered more than I cared to admit.
