[Meredith].
The accusation in Draven's tone was almost childish.
"Someone had to." I shrugged innocently.
His gaze narrowed. And before I could react, his arm shot out.
"Draven—!"
He grabbed my waist and dragged me down onto the bed beside him. I landed with a startled laugh, half-tangled in the blankets.
"You are really something!" I protested.
Draven rolled onto his side, one arm still firmly around me so I couldn't escape. His hair was a mess now, falling over his eyes, and he looked thoroughly unimpressed with the world.
"You woke me up," he repeated, with a low, grumpy voice.
"That is because you were sleeping like a dead wolf."
"I was resting."
"You were snoring," I teased.
His eyes narrowed again. "Meredith, I do not snore in my sleep."
"You do," I argued, properly swallowing my laughter.
"I don't," he insisted.
"You absolutely do." I raised a brow of defiance.
Draven pulled me a little closer. "Careful," he murmured. "You are insulting your King."
