Draven’s POV:
I watched the heavy oak doors click shut behind Aria, leaving the room feeling oddly vacant despite the lingering scent of her wolf, which was a mix of mountain air and something sweet like medicinal herbs. My skin still prickled where I had touched her jaw, and the persistent hum of the mate bond was currently clawing at the back of my skull like a caged beast. I ignored it, straightening my coat and turning to face Ragnar, who was currently leaning against a stone pillar with an expression that suggested he wanted to punch me.
“Are you seriously going ahead with this, Draven? Or Luthor, or whatever you’re calling yourself today?” Ragnar asked, his voice echoing off the high ceilings as he pushed off the wall and began pacing. “Deceiving the Elders is one thing, but this
