Draven took a step forward, his massive frame towering over the ash-stained valley floor like an inescapable shadow. Every strike of his heavy iron boots against the black glass sent a vibration straight up my spine, rattling the teeth in my jaw. The scent of ozone, dark sulfur, and copper hung thick around him, clinging to the sweat and gore that painted every inch of his bare torso.
He didn't rush. He moved with a slow, agonizing arrogance, his wide shoulders chest-heaving as black smoke curled off his skin.
When he stopped, he was so close I could feel the blistering heat radiating from his body. His towering shadow completely blocked out the bruised, crimson storm of the Vael'ethor sky above us. He lowered his head, bringing his gore-splattered face inches from mine. The double-toned, demonic resonance in his throat rasped against my skin, sending a violent shiver down my spine.
A dark, terrifying smirk slowly split his face, revealing sharp, lengthened fangs.
