My hands fly to his hair, fisting the dark strands asthe waves crash over me again and again until finally he relents and removes his mouth and finger. I lay there, breath catching in small, broken gasps as the last waves of pleasure ripple through me, and he smiles lazily down at me.
I don’t know how long I lie there, eyes fluttering open and closed, pulse thudding wildly in my throat.
Riven shifts up from between my thighs, his hands steady as they guide my legs to settle around him. He doesn’t try to position himself into a new area again, he simply gathers me in his arms.
My cheek finds his chest as he pulls the sheets over both of us. His skin is warm and his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my ear.
I breathe him in.
His scent, his touch, the soft way he strokes his fingers through my hair. It grounds the sparks still trailing through my limbs. The tremble in my thighs begins to fade, a swirl of disbelief replacing it.
I never imagined pleasure could feel like that.
My hand finds his waist beneath the sheets, fingers curling softly into his side.
“I want to learn what you like too,” I whisper, the words feathering out between breaths. “I want to give back.”
He lets out a muffled groan before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
I smile into his chest and whisper, “I mean it.”
His hand slides down to cradle my hip. Gentle, yet firm. “I know you do, darling. But not tonight.”
I tilt my head up just enough to meet his gaze.
“This was aboutyou. Every second of it.” His thumb traces lazy circles along the curve of my hip. “We’ll explore the rest another day.”
I nod, and the tension that curled like a fist inside my chest finally lets go.
He presses his lips to my temple. “Sleep, darling.”
And I do, wrapped in the safest space I’ve ever known.
***
The stone floor gleams beneath the morning light as Riven steps into the circle first. His dark shirt clings to the lean lines of his frame and his dress pants are fitted, but he swore they’re loose enough to fight in. His quiet presence would be terrifying in its calmness if I didn’t know him.
Waylen follows, bare chested and bloated with bravado, a smirk stretched too tightly across his face as he struts the edge of the stone circle.
No one claps or cheers, and his confidence slips with his smirk turned grimace.
I sit on the lowest bench, the stone cool beneath my thighs, and my breath is a tangle of nerves in my chest. My hands are folded too tightly in my lap,fingers curled into my palms, and still the tremble won’t leave me.
Beside me, Kresselia shifts, the velvet of her gown rustling softly in the silence.
“You’re shaking,” she murmurs, not unkindly.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, though the words feel brittle on my tongue as I glance at her.
Her eyes don’t leave the two vampires in the center of the room. “I’ve watched nearly every challenge he’s faced. Every one of those vampires thought they were the exception to his power, yet none were. You needn’t be afraid for him.”
I don’t know how to tell a stranger that it’s not just fear. The emotion is heavier and sharper in my chest. The memory of his mouth against my skin. The way he held me when I shattered beneath his touch. The quiet reverence in his eyes when he told me this would be brutal and that he didn’t want it to change my perception of him.
Across the arena, Waylen’s gaze finds mine.
He smirks and drags his hand down the center of his chest to the line of his waistband, hips rolling in mock invitation.
The crowd shifts, a few murmurs rising, but I simply shift my gaze to Riven, letting him know with my silence that it doesn’t bother me.
