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She drags the heel of her palm up and down my length, lingering at the tip, where she swirls her thumb. I buck into what little bit of touch she’s giving me, quickly becoming the living embodiment of pleasure and pain as the rune on my neck flares with heat.

Torture of the best kind.

“Careful, little witch,” I say through gritted teeth. “If you keep this up, I’ll⁠—”

“That’s what I want, grandsire,” she says, pressing her hand against me a little bit harder, faster. She lowers her voice. “Come for me.”

Here? Beside rows of glittering gowns and soft satin? With Lyrielle, Miriya, and Daphne just upstairs in the fitting rooms? Even the shopkeeper who sold the cloak to Gwyn could reappear at any moment.

Her fingers drift under my tunic, skimming my skin, hand dipping into the waistband of my trousers. She grips me, and I’m on the verge of ruin. I picture every movement so perfectly. Her hand wraps around my flushed cock, pumping me. Slow to start, then faster, keeping time with my heaving chest.

“You’re being so good for me.” Her tone turns sultry. “Is this one of your yesses, Riven?” She tightens her grip. “Being touched where anyone can catch us?”

“Yes,” I grunt. I’m having trouble standing still, hips driving forward with every pump. “Gwyn, please⁠—”

“Please?” Her eyes spark with delight. “I do love whenever that word slips out of your filthy mouth.”

I am on the verge of capturing her filthy mouth with my own if she doesn’t stop toying with me. I’ll bend her over the display table, hike up her gown, and bury myself inside her wet cunt until she’s begging for release as I whisper that single word over and over again—please, please, please.

And she’ll let me.

She’ll let me do anything except steal her heart, cage her.

I want to do both so badly.

More than I want to fuck her…

I want to love her.

Oh, fuck.

I’m going to⁠—

My gasp is silenced by her other hand as I come undone in my pants.

“That’s it,” she murmurs, slowing her stroke. “Dagny knows I love it when you obey me, Riven.”

I bite the tender flesh of her palm, desperate to redirect the agony surging through me.

It’s white hot and violent, a solar flare coursing through my veins.

“Gwyn?” Miriya calls out. “Come look!”

Gwyn startles, snatching her hand from my trousers and lurching away from me, but I catch her wrist, pulling her close, lips dragging against the shell of her ear as I rasp, “Midnight. My suite. Silk robe, nothing underneath.”

When I let go of her, her eyes meet mine, cheeks pink, as she flees through Thistle and Thread without another word.

Chapter 26

GWYN

Midnight. My suite. Silk robe, nothing underneath.

It’s well past midnight, and I still haven’t worked up the courage to knock on Riven’s door.

Not because I don’t want to be ravaged by him. I do. Dagny knows, I do.

I haven’t knocked because he might ask me to stay the night, and I might be too blissed out to remember why I shouldn’t. Pretty soon he’s going to choose a bride who isn’t me.