Riven’s knees nearly gave.
He pumped faster, hips jerking into his hand, heat spiking hard and brutal in his gut. He was close, and Thane knew it. Watched it. Eyes on him like a brand.
“You like putting on a show?” Thane asked, low. “Or is it just for me?”
Riven bit back a groan, muscles locking tight. “Go fuck yourself.”
“I’d rather watch you do it,” Thane murmured. “Look at you. Needy little mess. I didn’t even touch you.”
“You don’t need to,” Riven gasped. “You’re already in my fucking head.”
“Then come for me,” Thane said, voice dark velvet. “Come knowing I’m the one who made you this way.”
That was it.
Riven’s head fell back with a broken sound as he came, cock jerking in his fist, hot spurts painting the tile and his wrist. His whole body went taut, pleasure scalding and filthy, twisting through him like it had claws.
When he finally opened his eyes, Thane was still there. Watching. Breathing a little heavier now.
Riven straightened slowly, chest heaving.
“You get your kicks?” he muttered.
Thane’s gaze dragged down, lazy and satisfied. “For now.”
Then he turned and walked out, the door hissing shut behind him.
Riven slid down the wall, heart still hammering.
He was so, so fucked.
Chapter 10
Riven sat in the high-backed chair like it might bite him if he moved wrong. His hair was still damp from the shower, his skin flushed too warm, too tight. If he shifted even slightly, he could still feel the dull ache of his orgasm echoing low in his spine. Gods help him, he could still smell the aftershocks of it on his skin.
And across from him, Thane sat like nothing had happened.
Perfect posture. Matte black coat. Hands folded loosely in front of him. Not a hair out of place. No trace of the man who’d stood behind a pane of mirrored glass and watched Riven fall apart—who’d murmured filth like a command, who’d stayed just long enough to make sure Riven finished, then left before the blush had even faded from his chest.
Riven adjusted his position, trying to get comfortable, trying not to imagine what Thane’s hand would feel like instead of his own. A mistake. His cock twitched in his pants, and he clenched his jaw hard enough to hurt.
Around the table, the debrief was already underway.
Caerel, one of House Virellien’s senior intel officers, leaned forward and flicked the screen behind him to life. Footage from the night before played in clipped silence—Riven entering the club, his target leaning in close, a flash of Soulglass gleaming like a captured star in his hand.
“Preliminary results confirm the sample is genuine,” Caerel said. “Uncut, high-purity, and not a variant in known circulation.”
Riven forced his eyes to the screen, away from Thane.
“That rules out the Glint Syndicate,” Caerel went on, “which means this didn’t come from their labs. Either someone cracked their formula and built on it—”
“Or we’re dealing with a new supplier entirely,” Thane finished evenly. “Which raises the question, where are they getting the raw material?”
Riven cleared his throat, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “If they’re refining Soulglass for new distribution, why test it in such small quantities? That club was a low-end venue, too public for serious product movement.”
Caerel exchanged a glance with the younger data tech beside him. “That’s the point. If something did go wrong with the dose, it would be easy to disappear a dead addict in a place like that.”
A thin pulse of unease moved down Riven’s spine. Lareth and his people knew their product was dangerous—knew it would kill people—and they didn’t care. They viewed the lives of those in the Seam as just as disposable as the Great Houses did.
