Raven walked the corridor barefoot, the marble cold enough to bite through her soles and climb her calves with every step.
No summons pulled her forward. No blood on her hands. No rush of adrenaline or jealousy clawing at her ribs. Just her own decision, quiet and steady, carrying her toward the low lamp glow spilling from under his door.
She stopped outside it. Hand on the handle.
She turned the handle anyway.
Vincent sat at the desk, lamp burning low, papers spread in front of him. Black shirt open at the collar. Hair loose over his shoulders. When she stepped inside he looked up. Dark eyes found hers across the room. He didn't speak. Didn't stand. He simply waited, the way he always did when the next move belonged to her.
Raven crossed the space. Each step deliberate. The black silk sheets caught the lamplight when she sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under her weight. She rested her hands on either side of her thighs and met his gaze.
