Their first meeting was not polite.
Draven did not look at Winn the way other men did.
He assessed them—measured breath, posture, weakness.
But when Aurora Adam's stood before him, slik clinging to her like second skin, his gaze lingered too long.
She felt it immediately.
Not the weight of power — but attention.
"You must kneel," he said.
Aurora refused to kneel
Kyle let the silence stretch, watching her with predatory eyes . She wore black silk— mourning, defiance, seduction all at once. Her spine was straight, her chin lifted, her eyes burning.
"You stand in my house," he said . "On my land."
"And yet," she replied softly "you're the one staring". She smiled faintly "If you want me lower you'll have to push".
The hall went still.
Kyle descended the steps slowly, deliberately, until only a breath separated them . He smelled like smoke and iron like blood washed clean.
"You are trembling." He murmured
"I'm not afraid," she sibilated, her voice barely heard in the darkness.
"No," he agreed softly, eyes darkening.
"You're anticipating."
His fingers brushed the side of her throat neither gripping nor kind. Just enough to feel her pulse race beneath his touch.
He stepped back.
The restraint was worse than any cruelty.