I leaned back slightly against the edge of the heavy mahogany desk, the warmth of his breath lingering against my cheek. My heart was still fluttering from the terrifying, awe-inspiring display of my own healed wrist, but I forced a mischievous, playful smirk onto my lips.
"No," I whispered softly, placing my palm gently against his broad chest to keep a tiny sliver of distance between us. "I don't think I will. I think I quite like holding the great Duke's power inside of me. It makes me feel very dangerous, your Grace."
Draven didn't flinch. A slow, irresistible smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his dark hazel eyes darkening with an intense, captivating warmth.
"Is that so?" he purred, his fingers tightening gently around my waist, pulling me so close that my chest pressed against his. His smile faded into an expression of serious, fierce devotion. "As much as I enjoy seeing you look so proud, little cub... we have to do this. We need to transfer it back."
