“That can be arranged, darling.”
I whip my head up as Riven steps through the door, his cloak fluttering behind him. It drags against the sand, erasing several of the footprints I left here before the fight. I squint, realizing for the first time that the bottom of the cloak is made up of hundreds of thread-like fibers. They sweep the ground behind him as he walks.To cover his tracks?
The odd hem is torn from my field of vision when Ciprian slams Riven into the rolling door and wraps his hands around his throat.
Terror overrides my pain, and I stumble toward them on shaky legs. “Stop,” I beg, grabbing Ciprian’s shoulder.
He turns his head and surveys the holding room in confusion. “Why are you scared? I can sense it.”
“I just got you back.” Shallow breaths chase the words out of my mouth. “He could take you away from me.” My voice sounds small. I hate it, but I can’t lose him.
Ciprian’s knuckles, white with tension, flex before he releases Riven reluctantly. “You won me fair and square, hot wings.”
Riven straightens the neckline of the cloak. “I didn’t expect you to pick the blond.”
“Jealous of blonds. How original.” Ciprian sneers at Riven, every inch the spoiled, rich enclave heir I assumed he was before I got to know him.
Riven cocks his head. Bands warp the amber mask on his face until an older, harder version of Ciprian stands in front of us. My throat locks up. I never met him, but if this is an accurate likeness, then Ciprian is a dead ringer for his father.
“I hear condolences are in order,” Riven drawls.
Ciprian stumbles back a step, his eyes wide with shock.
My stomach churns. To wear Dimitri Casanell’s face... Is there no level the veydra won’t stoop to? Before I can consider the consequences, I lunge forward and slap Riven with all my strength. The pale skin he’s wearing blooms red in the shape of my hand.
“You’re evil,” I hiss.
“It’s okay, Celine,” Ciprian says shakily. He wraps his fingers around my wrist and kisses my knuckles. “If you’d met the original, you’d have wanted to slap him too.”
He turns to Riven and narrows his eyes. “We want spoils. For her win.”
“You’re confused, demon,” Riven drawls. His face warps again before returning to the amber mask. “You are her spoils.”
“Mmhmm. And I’ll be sure to do plenty of spoiling. On my knees, on my back—whatever she wants. But Celine needsmedical treatment. And tequila. Top-shelf shit.” His lips curl in disgust. “Do you even have agave here?”
“No.” Riven sounds confused, and I hide my smile.
“That’s too bad. Bring a selection of your best alternatives.”
“You can’t make demands?—”
Ciprian scoffs. “Yes, I can. You made a killing off that fight. She picked me. I read the odds. That decision alone doubled the profits for the house.”
“This is a penal institution, not a casino.”
“Yeah? Godsdamn, I never noticed.” Ciprian widens his eyes before locking them on Riven like a shark. “I know you can make it happen.”
Riven ignores Ciprian and turns to me. His stare crawls up my bloody thighs, and I hold my head high. I won’t show him how badly it hurts.
“I’ll see what I can do.”Wait what? I can’t believe that worked.
Ciprian bends to pick me up, carefully avoiding the worst of the burns. “Don’t put your legs together, hot wings. I’m scared you’ll lose more skin.”
I glance at my thighs and flinch. My pants are shredded, and my upper legs are a gory, singed mess—a reflection of the skinless monster who did this. I’ve never been this exposed.
Warm fabric drapes over me, covering me from the base of my neck to the balls of my feet. A tattered piece of fur grazes my inner arm, and I suck in a breath, filling my nose with a clean, spicy scent.
I look up, but Riven has his back to us, unlocking the door with stiff, jerky movements. Ciprian narrows his eyes. A muscle in his cheek flexes, but he takes off after our veydra warden without a word.
