"You were late," I repeated stubbornly.
Draven stood directly in front of me now, black gloves resting loosely behind his back while the lantern lights flickered across the sharp lines of his face.
Completely calm.
Completely arrogant.
One dark brow lifted slightly.
"And yet," he murmured smoothly, "I'm still alive."
I glared at him instantly.
"That's not the point."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"No?" he asked quietly.
"No."
The crowd around us had finally started thinning, though servants and guards still lingered nearby pretending not to stare.
Which somehow made this worse.
Draven took one slow step closer.
Then another.
Until the cold scent of night and black cedar wrapped around me completely.
"You seem upset," he observed lazily.
I crossed my arms immediately. "You said a few hours."
"And?"
"You disappeared the entire day."
His gaze sharpened slightly with amusement.
Then suddenly—
he leaned closer.
