The distance I’d tried to keep for weeks was already crumbling. Holding her the night before—feeling her sleep wrapped in my shadows—had nearly broken my resolve. Seeing her now, the last of my defences finally collapsed. I couldn’t pretend to be just a soldier anymore. I wanted to survive tomorrow. But watching the fire burn in her, I knew the priority. If the choice was between the Shadow and the Light, the Light had to walk out of that tower. I was the one who had to ensure she reached the top. And I was ready to pay the price.
“Stop it,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence.
“Stop what?”
“You’re weighing the cost.” She walked towards me, closing the distance to stand directly between my knees. “You’ve already decided that you’re the price of admission. Stop it.”
“Selene—“
“I mean it, Riven. Stop planning your funeral.”
She reached out, her hands cupping my face. Her palms were warm, calloused from the training, trembling slightly.
“We are going to win,” she whispered. “Both of us.”
I looked at the terrifying hope in her eyes. Perhaps she didn’t fully grasp the horror waiting for us in that lobby, but in this moment, my calculations didn’t matter.
Maybe she was right. The Highspire could wait. The end of the world could wait. I needed to stop preparing for death and start living, if only for tonight.
“We survive,” I said, repeating the promise I had made her yesterday.
“Show me,” she breathed.
She leaned down and kissed me.
It was a collision. Total and demanding.
My control, worn thin by days of proximity and years of isolation, snapped.
I grabbed her waist, guiding her down onto my lap. Her legs wrapped around me, drawing her flush against my chest.
When our mouths met, the connection snapped into place.
The feedback hit like a shockwave—a circuit closing behind my ribs. My shadows rose without my command, uncoiling from the corners of the room, drawn to her light.
I stood up, bringing her with me, my mouth devouring hers. I needed to touch her. Skin to skin.
I grabbed the hem of the tunic and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the floor.
She was naked underneath. The sight of her, bathed in the amber light, stole the air from my lungs.
“Beautiful,” I groaned.
Looking was a shallow mercy. I memorised her instead, tracing the geography of her body until every curve was burned into my mind. My hands swept over her, following the slope of her shoulders, the dip of her waist. I cupped her breasts, their weight full and perfect in my palms, thumbing the peaks until they hardened against me.
I couldn’t resist. I lowered my head, taking one nipple into mymouth, sucking hard, tasting the magic pulsing beneath the surface. She cried out, her fingers tangling in my hair, arching her back to press herself deeper into my mouth.
She stripped me down with desperate efficiency, shoving my shirt off my shoulders, her hands roaming over my chest, my arms, learning the ink and the scars. Then her hand found me.
Her fingers wrapped around my length, cool against the burning heat of my skin. She stroked me, gentle at first, a testing caress that made my breath catch. Then she tightened her grip, moving faster, learning the rhythm that made my hips buck involuntarily.
“Selene,” I warned, my control fraying.
She didn’t stop. She shifted her weight, rising to straddle my hips, her gaze pinning me with fierce, undeniable intent.
She lifted her hips, guiding me to her entrance, and sank down.
Slowly. Inch by inch. Taking all of me.
