His grip is firm. Solid. And even though it’s not warm—because nothing about Riven has ever been warm—it’s steady.
That’s what keeps me standing here, my chin lifted, my gaze locked on Eros’s.
“Do it,” I tell the god, bracing myself for the strike.
Eros tilts his head, studying me, as if deciding if he wants to follow through. “Are you sure?” he finally asks. “Because I don’t think you fully understand what you’re committing yourself to.” He taps the golden tip against his lip, pretending to consider explaining further. “Let’s go over it, shall we?”
I bristle. “There’s nothing to?—”
“Oh, but there is.” His eyes darken, the playfulness draining from them like ink spreading over a page. “You think this will be bearable? That because you already love him, a little push in that direction won’t make much of a difference?”
The air shifts, the space between us thickening like honey.
Riven’s grip on my hand tightens.
His other hand inches toward the hilt of his sword.
Eros steps closer, his voice smooth as silk, but as sharp as a blade. “You won’t just love him,” he tells me, enjoying this far more than he should. “You willonlylove him. He’ll be the sun in your sky, the stars in your night, and the air in your lungs. You won’t care if you live, if you die, or if you break, as long as it means you can be near him. You won’t loveanyoneother than him. You won’t even love yourself. And when he chooses another? The pain will be so intense that you’d rather die than live with knowing he wanted someone who wasn’t you.”
A cold rush sweeps through me, and I’m not sure if it’s from fear, or if Riven’s ice magic is reacting to whatever emotions he still has left for me. Because his grip on my hand is tight. Too tight. And when I look at him, his eyes are stormy with something I can’t quite place.
Not love. Not yet.
But at least it’s not ambivalence.
“What are you thinking?” I ask him, since this is the man I trusted with my heart. Whether or not he loves me back yet, I trust him to keep me safe.
“I’m thinking that I don’t know what the future holds,” he tells me, and there’s something almost pained in the way he says it—something that tugs at my soul. “But I don’t want to hate you. Because if you’re no longer here, and if it’s my fault, then I might hate myself forever, too.”
A sharp breath catches in my throat.
Because even though he doesn’t love me now, at least he doesn’t want me dead.
It’s a start.
“See?” I say to him softly. “You do care.”
“I care about the mission,” he corrects me, despite the flicker of uncertainty in his familiar silver eyes that wasn’t there before. “And about making strategic choices.”
“Is that all?” I challenge.
“Right now, I find you tolerable,” he adds, as if I should be grateful for even that. “I can trust you at my side. I believe that whatever’s coming next, we’ll keep each other safe. I don’t want that to change, and I’m going to make sure it doesn’t. For both of our sakes.”
“So, youdocare.”
Despite everything, I can’t help smiling.
He exhales sharply. “I said I tolerate you. Not that I care.”
“Tolerate, trust, want around, don’t want to kill—it sounds dangerously close tocare,if you ask me.”
His eyes narrow, but there’s no real bite to his glare. “You’re pushing your luck, Star Navigator. Unless you’d prefer that I take the lead arrow instead?”
I inhale sharply, my teasing dropping away. “You wouldn’t.”
“It would be best for both of us if I didn’t,” he says, and his thumb brushes against my wrist—almost absently, like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.
I swallow hard, my pulse pounding beneath the spot where he’s touching me.
