Page 53 of The City Of Fractured Memory

“Riven?”

No answer.

Something darts in the edge of my vision, too quick to name. I spin, my hand going to the dagger at my belt, but before I can draw it, a shadow detaches itself from the wall and surges toward me.

In an instant, my back hits the cold brick wall, hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. Riven’s hand catches my wrist and pins it above my head, his other hand clutched round my throat, his body pressing tight against mine. The faint glow of the lights from the street behind us carves sharp planes across his face, his jaw tense, eyes burning with a feral kind of intensity.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Miss Wren.” His voice is low and dangerous, half amusement, half warning.

I glare up at him, trying to keep my voice steady. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You should have left it at that.”

“You’re hiding something.”

He leans in closer, and I try to ignore the feeling of his body pressed against mine, but his warm breath against my ear makes it almost impossible.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs.

My pulse races, a mix of fear and fury, and something…else. “You think you can just use people like pawns in your little games? Keeping secrets while others die?”

His grip on my wrist tightens, his fingers flexing at my throat. “I’m the only reason you’re still breathing, Octavia,” he says quietly, eyes gleaming like a cat’s in the dark. “Don’t mistake my restraint for patience.”

I stare up at him, defiant despite the tremor in my voice. “Oh, I haven’t. I know exactly what you are.”

“And what would that be?” he whispers with a tilt of his head.

“You are a bad person, a psychopath,” I hiss at him.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve done awful things, obviously.”

“Yes, I have,” he agrees. “But you never asked me why.”

I hesitate, tempted to indulge him, but I refuse to give in to this game he’s playing. I’ve had enough.

“I don’t have time for your excuses. I won’t bow to them.”

He observes me intensely, a slight smirk dancing in the corner of his mouth as his hand squeezes a little tighter around my throat.

“Yes, you’re not usually one for submitting, are you?”

I remain silent, refusing to endorse his rambling.

“I’ve seen your fire. Seen the way Blackwood tries to protect you, control you, all the while you fight back, every time. Sometimes I wonder, a woman with such intellect as yours…you may appear small and broken to everyone else, but I also see you for what you truly are, Miss Wren.”

“Whats that?” I whisper, unable to help myself.

He leans in close, his stubble grazing against my ear, his warm breath caressing me in the most sinful way.

“A dangerous creature,” he breathes, his deep voice vibrating against my ear and making me squirm involuntarily. I stare back at him defiantly, refusing to show him how much his proximity is affecting me, but his smirk tells me my attempts are futile.

“You love this, don’t you?” he says with a knowing smile. “You hide it well, but I can see it in your eyes. All the mystery, the puzzles, you crave it.”

“You’re wrong,” I insist, though I’m about as convinced of my words as he seems to be.

He leans in close again, our noses almost touching, and a shiver rolls down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “Tell me, Detective, did you enjoy my little notes?”