That made Riven freeze.
Thane stepped in close, hand braced on the back of Riven’s chair. “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to,” he said quietly. “Don’t look like you want to kill anyone unless I tell you to. And wear something that doesn’t smell like regret.”
Riven opened his mouth, then closed it again. Every part of him buzzed with the memory of Thane’s mouth on his throat, his hands pinning him down, the gasps that had passed between them.
“I don’t represent your House,” he said, voice low.
Thane’s smile was brief and cruel. “You do now.”
They stood there, tension curling tight like a spring, until Thane finally stepped back and turned to the door.
Riven exhaled slowly. His head was spinning, his skin still too warm.
“Thane,” he said before he could think better of it.
The man paused without turning around.
“You look like shit.”
This time, Thane did smile. Just a little.
“Good,” he said. “I want them to underestimate me.”
Then he left, and Riven was alone again—with a lesson echoing in his ears and the ghost of Thane’s touch still burning along his skin.
Chapter 27
The weight in Riven’s hands trembled, not from exertion but from agitation. The gym was too quiet, save for the rhythmic clink of metal and the buzz of overhead fluorescents. It was supposed to clear his head, burn off the unease tightening his chest ahead of the meeting, but clarity remained out of reach.
“You’re tense,” came a voice behind him, unmistakable in its silken drawl.
Riven didn’t turn. “Not in the mood, Asterian.”
“That’s a shame.” Asterian’s footsteps padded silently across the rubber flooring. “I was hoping we could get to know each other better. Given how…closeyou’re getting to my brother.”
Riven racked the weights with a clatter and straightened. “I don’t need to get to know you.”
“But I already know you,” Asterian said, circling around him now, just out of reach. “I’ve seen the look in your eyes when Thane walks into a room. You like getting fucked by danger, don’t you?”
Riven moved to walk past him, but Astarian stepped in front of him like it was effortless. “Don’t,” Riven said sharply.
“Don’t what?” Asterian’s silver-blur eyes gleamed. “Tell you what you already know? That you’re in over your head?” His hand drifted down, deliberately slow, to the front of his trousers.He adjusted himself through the fabric, sighing just a little. “You ever wonder what it’d feel like to be touched by someone who actually knows what they’re doing?”
Riven’s jaw clenched. “I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not.” Asterian’s voice lowered. “I told you to stop.”
And Riven…did. His feet froze against his will, compulsive obedience threading through his spine. Shame pooled low in his gut. His hands curled into fists.
Astarian smiled like he’d tasted something sweet. “See? It’s not just Thane who can make you behave. Maybe I’m better at it. Gentler. More thorough.” He stepped closer, the air between them going charged. “Thane likes to bruise what he breaks. I like to savor it. Draw it out. You’d scream for me differently.”
He let his fingers trail up his own stomach, slowly lifting the hem of his shirt just enough to show the cut lines of his abdomen. Then lower, down to the waistband of his pants, pushing it down until the smooth base of his cock was visible. “You ever been on your knees for someone who made you beg for it first?”
Riven jerked back as Asterian reached for him, his breath catching in his throat.
Asterian didn’t look disappointed—only amused. “Still pretending you don’t want it? That’s cute.” He leaned in, his mouth inches from Riven’s ear. “You won’t last long in my brother’s bed. None of them ever do.”
Riven’s body was hot and cold all at once, sick with fury, with the threat and temptation braided through every word Asterian had said. His lips parted to snap back—but a soft voice cut in.
