Draven moved through the silent hallway with a measured stride, the air growing thicker the closer he drew to the heavy oak door at the end.
His heightened hearing caught a low, throaty, and raw feminine moan followed by the deeper rumble of male voices. Then his steps slowed.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and a knowing look registered on his face. Nikolas was being Nikolas again. Indulgent, unapologetic, and turning even the quietest wing of the castle into his personal theater of flesh.
Draven didn't knock. The door opened with a soft creak, unnoticed by those inside.
