Page 32 of Touch of Oblivion (Woven in Time #1)

The door opens again as Riven enters, but this time he has a tray balanced on one hand. A look of desire ignites his features as soon as his gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my exposed legs.

It’s not lewd, but it is entirely possessive, like he alone is allowed to memorize how I look in these clothes.

He breaks the moment, crossing the room to place the tray next to me. My stomach growls again, louder this time, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Eat.” He gestures toward the food, stepping back and placing his hands behind his back.

I shift forward and reach for the tray but glance back to him as I feel the heavy weight of his eyes tracking my every move.

“Can you at least sit with me?” I ask as my hand lifts the lid over the plate.

A prime rib sandwich, thick and still steaming, sits between two slices of toasted bread. A small bowl of roasted vegetables sits beside it and there’s a chilled glass of water on the tray as well.

“I suppose,” he mumbles before sitting on the edge of the bed, his posture tight and coiled, as if he can’t allow himself to relax as I lift the sandwich to my mouth.

My first bite has a moan falling from my lips. The richness of the flavor is unlike anything I’ve experienced. It’s decadent and savory, layered with a buttery sweetness I can’t name. My eyes flutter closed as I chew in utter delight.

When I open them again, Riven stands across the room again.

He watches me still, but now his hands are curled into tight fists at his side. The muscles and veins of his forearms bunch with the restraint he exhibits.

I swallow and tilt my head at him, unable to stop myself from prodding. “Do you always get so worked up watching people eat? I imagine that creates a lot of awkward scenarios with vampire feedings.”

I take another bite, slower this time as I savor the flavor, and wipe my fingers with the napkin folded beside the plate.

“Yes,” he grits through a forced smile, dishing back my sarcasm in a heaping dose. “It’s a fetish of mine. Can you suck on the roasted carrot for me? I’d love that image to file away for later.”

I roll my eyes playfully and swallow.

“This is seriously amazing, though,” I admit. “Whoever prepared this outdid themselves.”

“I wanted someone who could cook the things you might love, so I hired a private human chef for you,” he admits with a shrug. “I have him teaching me as he prepares the meals, in hopes that I can provide directly for you.”

His confession shouldn’t make my heart feel like a puddle in my chest, but suddenly the food is forgotten, my mind turned to the singular thought of how kind that is.

Not only did he ensure I would have everything I needed that isn’t readily available in vampire territory, but he also wants to be able to give me that himself.

It’s clear he can afford to pay someone to do such menial tasks, so I know it’s rooted in the labor itself.

I finish the sandwich in silence, aware of every second he remains perfectly still across the room, drinking in every movement of my hands, every shift of my expression. He doesn’t speak again, not until I set the tray aside with a quiet breath and curl my legs beneath me on the bed.

Then he strides forward and lifts the tray effortlessly, disappearing. I quickly slip to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and when I pad back to the room, he’s back and leaning against the door.

“Get under the covers, darling,” he commands.

There’s something about his confidence that makes me halt and cross my arms against my chest. “What if I want to sleep in a different bed?”

He huffs out a succinct laugh. “Then we can sleep in any of the beds in this mansion, darling. We can even try them all out one at a time if it pleases you.”

I lift a single brow, barely containing the laughter desperately wanting to burst from me. “You know that I meant a bed without you in it.”

He cocks his head to the side, striding over to me slowly and full of his usual grace. His body towers over mine and I resist the urge to step back so I don’t have to crane my head back.

All of my mirth is gone in an instant, replaced with a tremble of need building within as he says, “We both know that I’m aware of your every need, given the quickening of your pulse right now.”

My lips part with a sharp inhale .

“Get into the bed, darling,” he quietly instructs, his breath barely a whisper in the echoing room.

This time I don’t rebut, and force my feet to walk past him and to the bed. I want to lift my hand to my chest, as if I can suppress the heavy beating I know he’s listening to, but I force my shoulders to stay back and my head high.

I slide beneath the silk sheets and one by one, the candles are blown out around the room in a quick sweep.

By the time I feel the other side of the bed dip with his weight, the room is dim and hushed, with the exception of our breaths.

It should feel colder and empty in a room without light or sound, but it doesn’t.

If anything, I somehow feel closer to him, aware of our nearness in a way that makes my breath hitch as he moves closer.

His hand finds me without hesitation, curling around my waist and drawing me to his side like I was always meant to rest against him. My body goes willingly, instinctively pressing into his chest.

It isn’t strange or sudden. It just is , like this moment is inevitable.

We lie there quietly as his hand traces circles on my lower back. My lashes lower as I melt into the space between awareness and surrender, not because I’m tired, but because a part of me feels at peace.

Then, low and abrupt, his stomach growls .

I blink, startled by the sound that doesn’t belong to me this time.

“Are you hungry?” I murmur, feeling the difference in the weight of the question when it’s directed at him and not me.

There’s a long pause.

“You have no idea,” he finally says, the soft words laced with an edge roughness, like he’s forcing them out. “I’ve been on a bit of a…cleanse since meeting you.”

My heart skips once, then flutters.

Has he…no, surely not.

I shift to glance up at him, but he’s already pulling me tighter, his large hand splayed partially along the curve of my ass now, anchoring me to this exact position.

“What does that mean?” I ask, breath catching as my voice slips into the hush.

He doesn’t answer, but the silence is all I need for confirmation…he hasn’t fed from anyone since meeting me.

He lowers his head, his breath brushing the top of mine as he exhales.

“Sleep, darling.”

His words settle over me like a command wrapped in a caress, and as my eyes drift shut, one final thought unfurls with a quiet, aching certainty.

If this is what it feels like to be claimed, I’m not sure I ever want to be free.