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A slow blink. Then his mouth tips up, just a little—like it doesn't know how to smile but it’s willing to try for me.
“You think they’re pretty?” he says, low and dry, but there’s something almostsoftbeneath the sarcasm. Like he’s unsure how to hold the compliment.
I mean to respond with a joke. Something light, something casual. But the words don’t come. Because they are—his eyes. Beautiful. Unsettling in a different way. Like a dusk that never ends. And it throws me. Throwshim, too.
He shifts his weight. Glances to the side. “It’s the bond. It messes with them sometimes.”
“That doesn’t make them less sexy,” I say. And my voice cracks right at the end like I’m seventeen and hopeless, and not standing in front of a wrath-bound ancient god who just made mefeelsomething I shouldn’t have said aloud.
His breath hitches. Actually hitches. And then—he blushes.
Riven fucking Kain blushes.
It’s faint, just the barest shift in the shadows under his cheekbones. But I see it. And he sees that I see it. And for the first time, there’s no rage shielding him. No sharp edge to hide behind. Just him. Quiet. Raw. A little wrecked.
And breathtaking.
“You’re messing with me,” he says eventually, voice lower now. “Trying to bait me.”
“I don’t need to bait you,” I murmur. “You’re already hooked.”
That knocks the air out of him like a physical hit. He exhales and looks away, and I see his hand twitch at his side—like he wants to reach for me, but doesn’t know how.
And then... he smiles.Reallysmiles. Not the twisted thing he gives everyone else. Not the hard, smug tilt of the mouth he uses like a weapon. No—this one’s crooked. Small. Honest. Like it doesn’t quite belong on his face but grew there anyway, just for me.
“I don’t flirt,” he says quietly.
I step closer. “I’ve noticed.”
“I’m not charming.”
“No, you’re lethal.”
His eyes drop to my mouth. “You should walk away.”
“I should,” I whisper, stepping closer still. “But I won’t.”
His hand brushes mine. Not on purpose. But he doesn’t pull away.
“I don’t do sweet,” he rasps.
I lean in, brushing my lips against his jaw—just once. “Then don’t.”
The breath leaves him like it’s stolen. And for once, Riven doesn’t storm off. Doesn’t snap. Doesn’t shut me down.
He just watches me.
And stays.
And then he kisses me like I dared him not to.
There’s no war in it. No firestorm of teeth and hunger. Just the slow drag of his mouth against mine—intentional, aching,real. Like he’s pouring something into me that he’s never given anyone else, something buried so deep beneath the fury and guilt and grief, it doesn’t have a name yet.
But I feel it.
Gods, I feelhim.
His hand cups the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair like he’s scared I’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on. I press closer, one hand braced on his chest, the other curled into the collar of his shirt like an anchor.