-Lucien Draven:
The morning sun poured through the kitchen window, casting golden streaks of light across the counter. I stood there, still, letting the warmth settle against my face. It felt… nice. A rare kind of peace.
A small smile tugged at my lips as last night's memory resurfaced. Ronan.
It had been fun to play with him—to poke at him, to push at the walls he kept so firmly in place. And, honestly, I still didn't understand his problem with my hair. It wasn't that long. Okay, maybe it was. But I hardly confused anybody.
If a sane person saw me—broad shoulders, tall frame, definitely not delicate features—they wouldn't mistake me for a woman. It was absurd. So either Ronan wanted me to be one, or…
He just didn't like me.
Which I already knew.
He hated me for being a vampire. He hated me for being stronger than him. And, probably, he hated me for beating him in our sparring match.
I hummed to myself, turning my attention back to the task at hand. Breakfast.
