My words were meant to calm Riven, but if it meant bruising Waylen’s ego in the process, I consider it a large bonus. Seeing his reaction gives even more truth to my words–heknowshis chance of beating Riven is slim-to-none.
The glow dims in Riven’s eyes as his nostrils flare with deep breaths, and it must be a good sign because the vampires around him ease their harsh grip on him. He exhales sharply through his nose and brushes their hands from his arms.
Then he’s moving toward me, and maybe I should be afraid after hearing how ruthless he can be in combat and seeing that he’s still agitated, but if this moment has taught me anything, it’s that he puts my well-being above everything.
I trust him entirely with my life, but I don’tunderstand what I did to matter so much to him in a short time. That lingering question stays tucked in a close corner of my mind, not forgotten, but neatly stored for later.
When he reaches me, there’s no warning before I’m swept off my feet and into his arms. My hands instinctively wrap around his neck and the adrenaline surging through me begins to calm. There’s something about his scent, his warmth, and the steady feel of his hands on me that anchors me with an ease that should startle me.
Maybe we both need to figure out the answer for how we can mean so much to each other in this timespan.
The warehouse and cobblestone streets of the nest vanish around us in a rush of wind and blurred images. He slows to a stop, and the sudden quiet is broken only by the distant call of a bird and the slow, lapping water against the shore.
He sets me down gently and turns away, pacing as I take a breath and scan the new area.
Tall cypress trees rise from the muddy bank, their limbs draped in moss that sways in the air. The water stretches out behind them, reflecting soft pockets of light through the early morning haze. Fireflies drift in slow spirals above the water’s edge, and the scent of damp earth signals to my brain that we’re likely far from the elegant structures of the nest.
It should be peaceful, being away from the frenzied energy of the vampires and surrounded by nature, but Riven’s pacing stops me from enjoying it entirely. His shoulders roll beneath the fitted fabric of his shirt, his breath tight and shallow as he runs a hand through his already tousled hair. I watch his fingers fisting his short waves briefly at the roots before he lets go. He finally comes to a stop at the base of a thick tree, one palm flat against the rough bark.
I watch a tremor roll through his body as his fingers dig into the tree, as if he’s begging it to anchor him.
I should leave him be, but I can’t stop my feet from crossing the distance to him. When I reach him, I press my hand to the center of his back, hoping he will find the steadiness he’s seeking in me, the way he provides that same peace to me.
The heat of him seeps into my palm. “Riven, please turn and look at me.”
He takes slow, purposeful steps to turn toward me, and I let my hand trail along him to his chest as he does. Yet he doesn’t meet my eyes. His jaw tightens, eyes locked on some far-off point like he’s afraid that if he meets my gaze, whatever burns in him might spill out.
So I press a little harder, wanting to show him that I can handle the energy festering within him. I’munsure why, but it feels essential to show him I’m strong enough to support him.
“Let me be here for you,” I demand softly.
His eyes find mine at last and I’m shocked to see the unfiltered desire simmering in them. I expected anger or annoyance…not this. As his gaze trails over me, I swear I see a flicker of fear break through.
I can’t hold back my questions any longer. I need to know what led to this moment and these emotions.
“Why?” I ask, not letting him look away. “Why would you risk your title? Your claim over all the nests in your faction’s lands? Everything you’ve built, just because he said something vile about me?”
For a moment, he doesn’t speak, just continues to stare at me with an intensity that steals my breath. Then, quietly, almost like he can hardly come to terms with his words, he breathes, “Because…I didn’t care.”
The confession hangs between us and my brow pinches. I want to ask what he means by that, but I watch the wheels turning in his eyes and decide to give him the space to expand when he’s ready.
He steps closer and lifts his large hands to splay against my hips.
“I didn’t care about the laws, the throne, or the wealth I’ve amassed. The moment he looked at you like that and spoke about you like that, I knew then what mattered.”
My lips part at his confession. It aligns with what Iobserved, but to hear it spoken aloud–to feel the visceral protective nature he has with me–it’s everything.
His voice stays low, but it gains confidence with every word, like he’s only just realizing the truth as he speaks it aloud. “I’ve ruled for over three centuries. Fought for dominance. Killed to survive. Nothing’s ever moved me from that singular focus–not once.”
One hand lifts, hovering just beside my face as if he’s now hesitant to touch me.
“Until you.”
His fingers tremble on my hip.
“Suddenly the grandeur of my life feels so extremely lonely, at the thought of you not being in it. If someone were to take me from you. If they were to harm you.”
I should say something in return, but I can’t. Not with the weight of his words settling inside me and causing my mouth to feel dry and my throat tight with my own rising emotions.
