And underneath it all, quieter but no less potent, came the heat. Lust, sharp and inconvenient, spiking just from the sight of Thane’s mouth. From the sound of his bootfalls as he crossed the floor.
But more than anything, Riven felt the ache, the consuming, bone-deep need just to be near him. To stay.
Before Thane could say a word, Riven beat him to it.
“You were right,” he said hoarsely. “It was a foolish idea.”
Thane’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t speak.
“I needed to know,” Riven went on quickly. “So let me—just let me finish.”
That, apparently, earned him something. Thane’s brows lifted faintly in amusement, and he gave a single, silent nod.
Riven took a breath, pushing through the fatigue and the tightness in his throat. “I knew how much the whispers about the Hollow Hand were getting to you. I knew what they meant. Not just now, but…what they brought up. About your father. About the past. I didn’t want to come to you with theories or guesses. I wanted to bring you something concrete. Something that could either put those rumors to rest or tell you what we’re actually up against.”
Thane’s expression didn’t change, but he’d stopped moving.
“I’m sorry I disobeyed,” Riven added. “I really am.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Thane slowly lifted both eyebrows, dry as ever. “Aeris, are you sure he’s not still medicated?”
Aeris didn’t even glance up from the chart in their hands. “No sedatives left in his system.”
“Mm.”
“Now, if you’re done posturing,” Aeris said, “I have actual patients to see. Don’t make him bleed again.”
And with that, they tucked the chart into a slot on the wall and swept out, leaving the room achingly quiet.
Thane turned back to Riven, his gaze settling like heat over Riven’s skin. The door clicked shut behind them.
Thane stepped closer to the bed, slow and deliberate, his shadow falling over Riven as he loomed. For a moment, hesimply looked at him—eyes scanning Riven’s face, his posture, the subtle winces he tried to hide.
When he finally spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “Are you alright?”
Riven’s breath hitched, surprised by the softness. “I’ll be fine,” he said, throat dry. “Just…don’t undo the bargain.”
Thane’s expression changed in an instant, soft bewilderment twisting into sharp incredulity. “What the fuck do you mean?”
Riven forced himself to hold Thane’s gaze. “You said you had no use for a pet that doesn’t listen. If you undo the deal, the House will come for my sister. I need the deal to stand.”
Thane didn’t respond right away. The silence dragged between them.
Then, quietly: “Is that all that kept you here? Your duty to her?”
The question was a scalpel, precise and merciless.
Riven’s answer came too fast, unguarded. “No—”
His eyes widened, lips parting like he hadn’t even meant to say it. But he had. The truth was there now, breathing between them.
“No,” he repeated, quieter this time, hoarse and ashamed. “It’s not. I tell myself it is. But I stayed for you too. I need to be close to you.”
He hated how raw he sounded, how desperate it felt in his chest to say the words. But they were true, even if he still didn’t fully understand what it meant.
Thane’s gaze turned molten—his pupils dilated, mouth slightly parted, eyes fixed on Riven like he was something caged and shining and entirely his. He leaned down slowly, hands braced on either side of the bed, until his mouth hovered just above Riven’s.
So close.
