Raven stepped from the black SUV into the crisp night air outside the neutral venue. The long black gown clung to her frame like liquid shadow, satin catching the low lights and whispering against her skin with every step. One shoulder remained bare while the other was draped in sheer fabric that hid the fading graze but left the sharp curve of her collarbone exposed.
No weapons were visible. The knife stayed strapped high on her thigh, steel cool against heated flesh. Vincent's hand settled at the small of her back, possessive and steady, his thumb brushing once along her spine through the thin material. The ring on her finger caught the glow from the entrance lanterns and threw it back like a warning.
