Tears streamed freely down Vanella's cheeks as the weight of what she had heard crushed her chest. Her fists struck Raven's chest again and again, each blow weak but furious, driven by grief rather than strength.
"Why?" she cried. "Why did you have to involve an entire clan of people?"
Her voice cracked as she hit him once more, then stopped, her hands fisting into the dark fabric of his clothes as if she needed him upright to keep herself from falling apart.
"Yes, I want them to pay," she sobbed. "I want the ones who hurt Ross, who hurt my people , who hurt you , to suffer. But not the innocent ones. They were just living their lives. Children. Women. People who had nothing to do with this."
She looked up at him, eyes red, blazing with pain and accusation.
"Please," she pleaded. "Don't enslave them. I can't carry that on my conscience. I won't."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, trembling but resolute.
"If we kill innocent people the same way our enemies do… then what is the difference between us and them?"
Raven did not stop her.
He did not raise his voice. Did not tighten his grip. Did not step back.
He stood there and took every blow, every word, every accusation, as though he deserved them all.
If only she knew what was truly happening behind his eyes.
The dragon in him roared, not with rage—but with hunger. A dark, dangerous craving that had nothing to do with bloodshed and everything to do with the woman breaking herself against his chest. The demon inside him whispered of punishment not born of cruelty, but of desire—of silencing her tears with his mouth, of tasting the softness of those lips that dared to defy him.
Sweetly, the voice urged. Dangerously.
Raven clenched his jaw.
Was it only the dragon that wanted her?
No.
The truth unsettled him.
He wanted to know too.
Vanella's hands fell limp against his chest as her strength gave out, her shoulders shaking as she bowed her head.
"Please," she whispered again.
Raven lifted his hand.
For a moment, she flinched—expecting anger, expecting wrath.
Instead, his fingers brushed her cheek, slow and deliberate, wiping away a tear with a tenderness that did not belong to the monster the world feared.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and absolute.
"They are all safe."
Her breath hitched.
She looked up at him sharply, searching his face for deception, for cruelty, for mockery.
There was none.
Only certainty.
Before she could ask him to explain—before her mind could catch up to the sudden relief flooding her chest—Raven did the unthinkable.
He kissed her.
Not softly. Not hesitantly.
He crashed his lips over hers with a hunger that stole the air from her lungs, a kiss born of restraint breaking apart. The world seemed to tilt as his arms came around her, holding her as though letting go would shatter something irreparable.
The taste of him was heat and storm and something dangerously intoxicating.
For Raven, it was like fire meeting fire.
The raging hunger inside him finally found release—not in blood, not in destruction—but in her. In the way she gasped softly against his mouth, in the way her body fit so perfectly against his, as if it had always known where it belonged.
The dragon stilled.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Raven felt… sated.
But he was not done.
Not even close.
Vanella had frozen at first, shock rushing through her veins—but his words echoed in her mind, wrapping around her heart like a vow.
They are all safe.
She believed him.
Without knowing why, without logic or proof, she trusted him completely—as though he would never betray her, never lie to her, never disappoint her.
Her body responded before her thoughts could catch up.
She melted into him, fingers curling into his robes as her knees weakened. The world narrowed to the warmth of his arms, the steady strength holding her, the strange, overwhelming sense of safety flooding her senses.
Bliss.
Pure, terrifying bliss.
By the time she realized she was breathless, clinging to him, the throne room no longer felt cold.
And neither of them were the same anymore.