Raven's POV
Dancing with Henry was like walking a fine line between grace and danger. His cold hands were firm on my waist, guiding me effortlessly across the floor, while the rest of the world seemed to blur around us. There was something unnerving about the way he moved—everything about him was deliberate, calculated. I couldn't help but feel like a fly caught in a spider's web, as if I were the prey and he was toying with me, testing my limits.
His occasional smile was charming, but there was something chilling about it too. Those sharp, elongated fangs gleamed each time his lips parted, making the smile feel less inviting and more predatory. It was like he wasn't trying to be charming so much as he was letting me know exactly what he was capable of. I caught myself glancing at his mouth, and the moment I did, his smile widened.
"It won't hurt, if that's what you're wondering," he said, his voice a silky whisper, as though he could sense my apprehension.
