I glanced at his rigid profile, deciding to test the ice. “Sounding a bit jealous there.”
“Jealousy is a useless metric,” he replied instantly, his eyes never leaving the road. “I am simply cataloguing your liabilities.”
I offered a dry half-smile, letting him have his lie. “We’ve been friends a long time.”
A pause. His fingers tightened fractionally on the wheel, gone as soon as the movement appeared.
“I see,” he said quietly.
His tactical deflection was textbook, yet that microscopic flinch betrayed him. He wore his clinical detachment like armour, projecting the image of a perfectly numb Highspire operative. But the weapon possessed a pulse. Beneath the jargon and the ice, a very real, guarded humanity was simmering. A ruthless consultant was an obstacle I could navigate; a man burying actual feelings under layers of duty was a complication I was entirely unequipped to handle.
The quarry was colder today,the clouds stacked low and dark, threatening rain. The air tasted metallic, braced for a storm.
Riven moved first and circled around to stand in front of me. “Ready?”
I rolled my shoulders back. “Always.”
He gave a faint snort and gestured for me to follow him to the centre of the open space.
His movements were relaxed today. Something in him had eased around me, even if he refused to admit it.
“Condense it,” he ordered, circling me with an assessment that made my skin prickle. “Don’t let it bleed. Give me a single point of light.”
I raised my palm, forcing the wild heat in my blood into a tight, glowing sphere hovering just above my skin. It took immense concentration to keep the edges focused. He stepped in, his hand brushing my wrist to correct my arm angle and lock the energy flow. The physical contact shattered my focus. The sphere collapsed, snapping into a tiny spark that bit into the air before vanishing.
He paused, studying the space separating us. The current had shifted.
“You’re holding too much tension here,” he murmured, placing two fingers at the base of my ribs.
Iflinched. From heat. From awareness.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You’re not.”
He stepped closer. Much closer. His presence wrapped around me like heat in winter, unsettling and steadying at the same time.
“Again,” he said, voice low. “Reach for it.”
I closed my eyes. I reached.
But I couldn’t focus on the magic. I could only focus on him. On the heat of his body inches from mine. On the way his scent—rain and ozone—filled my lungs.
My magic answered him instead of me. It reached out, a tendril of golden light seeking the shadows clinging to his skin.
He hitched a breath.
I opened my eyes. He was staring at me, his pupils blown wide, the silver swirls in his irises spinning fast.
He held his ground. Then, slowly, he moved closer.
That’s when the sky finally broke open.
Rain hit in heavy drops, drenching us in seconds. It soaked through my clothes instantly, freezing enough to make me gasp.
Riven swore under his breath, swiping wet hair from his eyes. “Of course.”
A startled laugh escaped me. The timing was absurd, and the suffocating tension of the last hour snapped. His lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile, though a flicker of unease crossed his features.
