(Third Person).
The heavy door clicked shut behind Draven, sealing him away from his father's simmering disapproval.
He strode down the dim corridor toward his own private chambers, the air still charged from the confrontation.
"Finally," Rhovan's voice rumbled in his mind, deep and edged with satisfaction. "About time those pathetic old fools were put in their place. How dare they speak of our mate like that?"
A faint smirk tugged at Draven's lips. "They got what they deserved for overstepping their boundaries."
"Overstepped?" Rhovan's growl was low and amused. "Reginald's face—" Then he broke into a dark, throaty laugh. "I will be dreaming about that expression for weeks. I swear, I saw his soul shrivel when you called Meredith your mate."
Draven's smirk widened, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. "Just realizing that he has been pushing his daughter at me since we were barely out of training has me imagining he's already plotting his next move."
