Page 5 of Frozen Star (Star Touched: Fae Bound #7)

As we make our way to our chambers, I feel Riven through our bond—his pain, sharp and jagged, his confusion spiraling into something dangerous. The frost patterns racing up his arms have intensified, tiny ice crystals forming and shattering with each breath he takes.

He refuses to look at me, but there’s no hiding anything from each other anymore.

We gave that up when we sacrificed ourselves for each other in the Tides—when he gave me all his blood, and I gave him my soul.

And now, every time I so much as breathe, I feel the weight of him unraveling like ice cracking beneath the surface of a frozen lake, about to collapse under its own pressure.

When the guards leave us at our door, Riven pushes it open without a word and steps inside. I follow, my heart pounding, water swirling around my fingertips as I look around.

While we were gone, the room was redecorated to give nods to the Winter Court along with the Summer Court.

The massive four-poster bed is now draped in ice-blue silk, flowering vines climbing over the wood.

Moonstone and amber fixtures cast a gentle glow over everything, neither too warm nor too cold.

Riven doesn’t seem to notice any of it. He just moves to the window, his eyes fixed out over the gardens, his jaw tight, every muscle rigid with restraint.

He’s a silhouette against the vibrant glow of the Summer Court, a shadow etched in frost and regret.

His stillness frightens me more than anger ever could, because beneath it simmers a self-destructive force so strong I fear he might break from the inside out.

“Riven,” I say softly, approaching him with cautious steps. “Please talk to me.”

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t move. “There’s nothing to say.”

“We both know that’s not true.” I reach for him, although when he does finally turn to look at me, the storm in his eyes makes me stop midway there.

Still, I force myself to continue.

“What I said in Central Park?—”

“Was the truth,” he finishes, his voice flat. “You saw a version of me that was better. Happier. Freer. A version not weighed down by death, violence, and darkness. A version unscarred by everything I’ve done. And you didn’t go to him.”

His magic flares, ice slicing the air, but he doesn’t let it explode. Not yet.

“That version of you in the Tides,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “wasn’t actually you. I wasn’t myself there, either. We were… echoes. Possibilities.”

He laughs, the sound hollow and bitter. “They were possible versions of us. Which means you chose me over a version of myself who could offer you everything I can’t.”

My heart twists with pain from what he’s saying, and also with what he’s not saying. Because he’s not moving, he’s barely breathing, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose him like I almost did to the dryad and the Tides.

But I refuse to let that happen, which means I’m going to make him understand. I’m not leaving this room until he does.

“The reason I didn’t choose him is because he’s not you.

” I place my hand on his chest, and while his muscles tense, he doesn’t pull away.

“That version of you wasn’t real. He never faced what you’ve faced.

He never overcame what you’ve overcome. He was untested and unshaped by struggle.

He wasn’t the man who sacrificed everything for me, whose soul I fused with mine in the Tides.

He was a watered-down version of you, and he didn’t have your fire, your passion, or your ability to love so fiercely that it punched a literal hole through the cosmos. ”

“But you said he was happy?—”

“He wasn’t you,” I repeat, moving closer, needing him to feel the truth of what I’m saying.

“And the version of me in that vision wasn’t truly me, either.

She was a shadow of who I am. She never faced what we faced or shared the pain and strength that brought us here. What I saw in the Tides wasn’t real.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing uneven. “You deserve happiness,” he finally says. “You deserve peace. And I’m a lot of things—ruthless, deadly, and powerful, to name a few—but I’m far, far from at peace. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

“I don’t want you to be anything you’re not.

All I want is for you to understand that my happiness—my peace—is with you.

” I cup his face in both hands, trying to push the feeling of how much I mean it through the bond.

“I love you. The real you, who’s standing right here in front of me.

The one who’s been broken and rebuilt. The one who stopped time to protect me.

The one who died in my arms and came back.

The one who fought through the Pyros Vault at my side.

The one who married me and carved a promise into my palm to love me for all eternity.

You’re not perfect, and neither am I, but I don’t want perfection.

I just want you. You’re the only version of Riven Draevor I’ll ever want. Ever.”

He doesn’t respond, his body utterly still except for the flexing of his sword arm—fingers clenching and unclenching as if around an invisible hilt. Not in anger, but in restraint, like he’s holding himself back from something he desperately needs.

“You should have chosen him,” he finally whispers, the words escaping him like a confession. “But now it’s too late. I’ve bound you to a storm you can’t escape.”

“Stop.” My voice is shaking, my fingers gripping him tighter, refusing to let him retreat any further into the icy darkness. “You didn’t bind me. I chose you willingly. I fused my soul to yours to bring you back to me. Stop punishing yourself for not being something I never wanted.”

I hold my breath, praying to every god in the universe that he’ll be able to understand.

Then, in one fluid motion, he closes the distance between us, his lips claiming mine with a ferocity that steals my breath away.

It’s not gentle or careful. It’s consuming, bordering on madness. He’s devouring me like he needs the taste of me to survive. His hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him, ice and water swirling around us as our magic collides as fiercely as our bodies.

I gasp into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair, holding on for dear life as the world narrows to nothing but Riven—his mouth, his hands, his breath, and his soul.

When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard, magic swirling chaotically around us. His eyes have darkened to molten silver, and the frost patterns across his skin pulse in time with his heartbeat.

“Then I’ll have to find a way to be enough.” His forehead presses against mine, his breath cool against my lips. “Because you’re more than the star that lights my way in the dark. You’re the only thing I care about anymore. You’re the only thing I feel. ”

The words send a shiver down my spine—part thrill, and part the concern that’s been tugging at me recently whenever he looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world keeping him alive.

“You’re already enough,” I tell him, my hands sliding up to cradle his face. “You always have been.”

His eyes search mine, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation.

Finding none, something in him seems to settle, the storm in his magic calming.

His lips find mine again, but this time, the kiss is different.

Darker. The bond between us flares with an intensity that steals my breath away, pulsing through every part of me.

It’s not warm and safe like it usually is.

Now, it’s demanding. Almost hungry, like it’s feeding on our connection, drawing strength from the uncontrollable emotion flowing between us.

But I don’t pull away. How could I? This is Riven—my Riven. All I want is him.

His hand moves from my waist to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss, slow and confident, powerful yet controlled.

He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t force. Instead, he takes his time, savoring me like he wants every moment with me imprinted into his memory.

He kisses me like I’m something precious, something vital—like he needs this to remind himself who he is.

When he eventually pulls back, he looks down at me, a calm determination settling in his silver eyes.

“I’m yours,” he whispers, the words a confession and a plea. “There’s nothing left of me that isn’t you.”

“And I’m yours,” I tell him, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pull him closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When he finally guides me backward toward the bed, the air around us grows charged, magic pulsing with each racing heartbeat. Ice crystals form and melt against my skin wherever he touches, leaving glittering trails that map his path across my body.

I feel him everywhere. Not just his body against mine, but his magic, his emotions, his very essence woven so completely with my own that I can’t tell where I end and he begins.

His love is a living, breathing entity inside my veins, leaving no doubt that he’s surrendered every part of himself to me.

“I love you,” I tell him, the words carrying the weight of every sacrifice, every choice, and every moment that’s led us here. “All of you.”

His silver eyes lock with mine, burning with an intensity that would frighten me if I didn’t know him so well. “And I live for you,” he replies. “Without you, I’m nothing.”

He kisses me again, and our magic swirls around us in a dance of frost and water, ice and warmth, perfectly balanced and wildly untamed. The room fills with the evidence of our passion—delicate ice sculptures forming in the air, only to dissolve into droplets that sparkle like stars as they fall.

For this moment, nothing else exists. Not the Summer Court, not the impending war with the Night Court, not the threat of the Blood Coven, and not even the lingering questions about what our bond is becoming.

There’s only us, wrapped in each other’s arms, souls intertwined as completely as our bodies.

And if the bond between us burns a little too bright and pulses a little too hungrily—well, that’s a problem for another day.

Because tonight belongs to us.