Draven met Nikolas's gaze steadily. "I want us to side with Lycanthria when the time comes. Not the forsaken wolves. But in exchange for something from the king."
Draven rose from the chair, closing the short distance between them. His hand lifted, fingers brushing the side of Nikolas's head in a rare gesture of closeness, palm pressing against temple and hair. The touch carried the coolness of his own skin against the warmth radiating from his brother's anger-flushed face.
"I feel your pain, Nikolas. I know it for my sake. But I'm never going to side with that bloody Dark Lord. I have a plan in motion. Something grand. It will give us the revenge we've waited for."
Nikolas's breath hitched, eyes searching Draven's face for any trace of deception. The tension in his broad shoulders eased under the touch, but suspicion still simmered beneath. "Tell me about these plans. I want in."
