Warmth pulses where his fingers rest against my skin. I step back before he can use his divination magic.
The silence stretches between us, too wide to bridge.
Riven sighs. “My parents kept score of their battles. Their mating wasn’t fulfilling, their relationship was like a chessboard. What mattered most was who won the argument, and how. Even if they preferred silent wars over loud outbursts, they were never truly happy.”
I feel a flicker of sympathy for him. My mom abandoned me, but my grandparents were a unit, together, a force to be reckoned with. But they never turned that force against each other.
“I don’t want that for our relationship. I want vulnerability and safety.”
“We have a relationship?”
“Don’t we?” A hint of a smile dances on his lips. “The shapeshifter told me who found me attractive on the dance floor.”
“His tongue is too long,” I mutter.
Riven bursts out laughing, the deep, belly-gripping kind.
I watch him. The body forged by relentless training, the scars, those silver eyes brimming with ancient knowledge… and something gentler. Hope. Kindness. And with that laughter, I could spend the rest of my life finding new ways to make him laugh again.
I’m overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him. To cross that invisible line. To connect in a different way. To taste his lips. To taste him. To feel what it’s like to be wrapped in those strong arms.
I bite my lower lip to relieve the desire.
He stops laughing. His jaw flexes, and his wings flare. Hunger. That’s the only word I have for what I can see on his face.
I take the risk and close the distance between us. He stiffens, and for the longest second, I’m sure he’ll reject me. But then he’s on me, and I melt into his arms.
He kisses me with a bloodthirstiness I’ve only ever read about in novels, seizing my neck with sheer ownership. It’s as if he had kept himself in check his entire life, and now he’s unleashing all the tension he held back onto my lips. I don’t complain at all.
I move to tear my clothes off, desperate for his skin against mine, but he jerks back—out of nowhere. “We need to stop,” he barks.
I stare at him, breathless, flushed, and unfulfilled. “You don’t find me attractive?
“I don’t find you attractive?” He echoes, incredulous, holding me in place with nothing but his eyes. “I am very old. I’ve waited a long life for you. But you cannot have me today. It would cost you a war.”
“Why?” I growl, crossing my arms and glaring at him. “And anyway, that’s very presumptuous of you.”
His face shifts, revealing a torrent of emotions so foreign I recoil. I don’t know him at all.
“The first time I have you, I won’t be able to stop. And not because you’re too damn tempting or I’d lose control, but because I simply wouldn’t want to.”
He steps closer. “So, My Lady, if you want to prevent the war and make it to the palace in time to save your subjects, you’ll need to wait for another kiss.”
I lose the ability to speak. I open my mouth to say something. Then close it. Try again. Nothing.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you speechless,” he smirks.
And that only stuns me more.
I want to say a million things, and I nearly do, but it isn’t only about being betrayed or manipulated. It’s about feeling robbed. About the loss of something I could have, but never got the chance to reach. Like their ‘omission’ stole the future I had let myself hope for.
I know I’m being dramatic. I’m self-aware enough to recognise that. But even with that awareness, I seal my lips shut.
“What do you want me to do? How can I make it better?” he asks, voice soft and careful, like a fisherman baiting his hook.
I clench my fists, holding the words back with the same force I hold my ground.
“I didn’t know you yet. I was tasked with retrieving the Queen,” he says quietly.
