"Tell me what is wrong," were his next words, sounding sharp and impatient, and she flinched in his arms. She looked at him with teary eyes and shook her head, as if she decided she didn't want to tell him.
Draven wanted to hit himself. This person was his mate and not one of his subjects who he could order around. He was not used to being gentle but he had long realized that acting as he usually did to his servants wouldn't work on his mate.
'She's not below me but my equal. I do not want her to fear me.'
He realized he should be softer to her, and today, he scolded himself that he should try harder in order to get her to trust him. As he thought of those, he once again removed the black gloves from his hands and tenderly held her face, wiping the tears from her eyes with his thumbs.
