Midnight.
The private garden was empty. Moonlight filtering through night-blooming jasmine, casting everything in silver and shadow. Draven moved through the servant's passage, silent as death. No guards this deep in the estate—Marcus's security focused on the main corridors and Aldric's chambers.
Stupid. But convenient.
He found his mother sitting on the stone bench. Same spot as before. But different. Tense. Her hands clenched in her lap, knuckles white. Still wearing the mourning black, but the dress was different—simpler, easier to remove.
She'd planned this.
"Draven." Elise stood as he approached. Her face was pale in the moonlight. Beautiful and haunted. "You came."
"Of course."
She crossed the distance between them in three steps. Grabbed his shirt, pulled him down into a kiss. Desperate. Hungry. Not the gentle affection from before—this was need. Raw and terrified.
He kissed her back. Let her take what she needed. Hands gripping her waist, steadying her.
