The master suite door closed behind them with a soft, final click.
Raven stood in the center of the room, her pulse running hard in her throat. The silence was deafening. No guardians. No screens. No excuses. Just the two of them and the press of the ring on her finger.
Vincent leaned against the door for a moment, watching her. His dark eyes moved over her body—the torn dress hanging off one shoulder, the dried blood on her lip, the way her breathing came too fast.
He pushed off the door and walked toward her.
Raven didn't back away. She lifted her chin, eyes flashing with defiance even as heat pulled low in her belly.
"This doesn't mean anything," she said, voice rough.
Vincent stopped inches away. Close enough that the heat of his body reached her. Close enough that his scent wrapped around her again.
"It means everything," he murmured.
