Thane approached, toweling off his face as he walked. Still shirtless, his pants hung low on his hips, teasing the carved line of his V and the silvery trail of hair that disappeared below the waistband. It took effort not to stare. Riven gave up halfway through the effort.
“Didn’t realize you were the voyeur type,” Thane said, his mouth crooked in a knowing smirk. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“I was watching the fight,” Riven snapped. “Not you.”
“Mm.” Thane tossed the towel over his shoulder. “Come. We have something to discuss.”
He turned without waiting and strode off. Riven cursed under his breath, then followed.
Thane led him to his private quarters. The space was cleaner than Riven expected—minimalist but expensive, full of dark stone and warm wood, with sharp edges and soft lighting. The air smelled faintly like cedar and ozone, like storms waiting to break.
Thane walked to the desk, opened a drawer, and tossed a sleek black folder onto the surface. “We have a lead. Kieran was spotted in a red-zone district last night, on the far side of the city. One of our watchers caught a trace signature of his magic in the air.”
Riven approached and opened the folder. A location, time stamp, blurry image of a male figure vanishing down a dark alley.
“It’s him?” Riven asked.
“Almost definitely. This area’s unstable—magic leaks in from the deep. We’ll have to go in armed.”
He said it calmly. But even before Riven could ask anything else, Thane was already unfastening his pants.
Riven blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Showering,” Thane said, his voice bland. “You’re the one who followed me to my quarters.”
“You brought me here.”
“Semantics.”
The pants dropped to the floor with a soft whisper of fabric. Thane stepped out of them, naked and utterly unbothered, walking past Riven toward the bathroom like this was routine.
Riven’s mouth went dry.
Thane’s body was…obscene.
Broad chest tapering to a tight waist, a dusting of light hair on his pecs and a trail leading down between his legs. His cock hung, heavy and thick between his thighs, soft but still intimidating—long, veined, hooded, the kind of size that made Riven’s thighs tense involuntarily. Thane kept his bush trimmed very close, putting his cock and balls on perfect display, as he must well know.
He looked away fast, heat rushing to his face, his own cock already twitching with interest in his pants.
Thane paused at the threshold of the bathroom. “This mission will be more dangerous than the last. I need your head on straight, Riven. What do you need to make sure of that?”
You. On the floor. My throat full of your cock.
Riven swallowed. “You. With clothes on.”
Thane’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile—something filthier. His eyes flicked down to Riven’s waistband, like he could see what was happening underneath. “That’s not what you were thinking about.”
“No,” Riven admitted before common sense could stop him.
Thane’s cock began to harden slowly, lazily, as if responding to Riven’s denial. As if he knew exactly what he was doing, offering a challenge without ever saying the words.
“We leave at midnight,” Thane said, voice lower now, velvet edged with threat. “Get some rest. Or don’t.”
He turned to enter the shower, but glanced back one last time. “I watched you. It’s only fair I return the favor. Door’s open if you change your mind.”
Steam began to rise as the shower hissed on.
Riven stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides, staring at the curve of Thane’s back, the way water already began to run down golden skin. His cock throbbed in his pants, hot and pulsing.
