The limousine ride back from the gala felt shorter than it should have.
Raven sat with her back against the cool leather, the crimson gown pooled around her legs like spilled blood. The high slit had shifted during the confrontation, exposing the pale skin of her thigh and the empty sheath where her stiletto had been. Adrenaline still hummed in her veins, sharp and electric.
Vincent sat beside her, one arm draped along the back of the seat, fingers occasionally brushing the bare skin of her shoulder. The partition was up. The air inside the car crackled with the same dangerous tension that had followed every public display of power.
He hadn't spoken since they left the Eclipse Tower. He simply watched her — dark eyes tracing the line of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers kept flexing as if longing for a blade.
Raven finally broke the silence. "You're quiet."
