Draven didn't watch them go. His attention had already shifted back to the door behind him, to the steady, sleeping breath on the other side. How the girl still managed to sleep soundly through the chaos outside the room never ceased to amaze him. It was almost as though she had no care for the world.
The thought stirred something quiet and unwilling in his chest. The hall had been thick with tension moments ago, heavy with the scent of anger and old pride. Yet here, in the silence of this corridor, there was only the soft rhythm of her breathing, a fragile counterpoint to the violence he had barely restrained.
Just then, a smile graced his lips, one that truly reached his eyes.
He stepped closer to Luna's door, resting his hand against the cool wood. Draven gave it a thought, weighing the impulse against reason, but eventually he could not overcome his growing need. It was illogical, dangerous even, yet the pull was there, insistent and quiet.
