The village buzzed with quiet life as Draka and Aria made their way through the cobbled paths.
Draka, tall and brooding in his dark cloak, drew immediate attention.
Women turned to stare. Some whispered, bold eyes tracking his every step. Their gazes lingered far too long on the angles of his face, the way his broad shoulders shifted with every step, the feral power just beneath his surface. Aria saw it all. Every look. Every murmur.
Her stomach twisted.
Draka paid them no mind. His expression remained unreadable, his eyes scanning the road ahead. It wasn’t arrogance, he didn’t notice, or didn’t care. Something else occupied his thoughts. Aria tried not to care either, but the way the tavern keeper’s daughter nearly dropped her tray just to get another glance made Aria’s skin burn.
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