Draven stood up slowly, his immense frame towering over the dais. He looked down at the room of chanting, wide-eyed children, a dark, amused glint dancing in his molten-gold eyes.
"You are all far too young to be watching such things," Draven announced, his deep voice effortlessly cutting through the high-pitched noise.
Before I could even process his words or recover from the fiery blush burning across my cheeks, Draven reached out. His large, calloused hand cupped the back of my neck, tilting my head up slightly, and he leaned down. Instead of a quick, formal gesture, he pressed a lingering, incredibly tender peck right against my lips.
The children erupted into a storm of dramatic gasps, squeals, and excited shrieks, covering their eyes with tiny hands while peeking through their fingers. Elara was practically wheezing with laughter near the pillar.
