Page 34 of Touch of Oblivion (Woven in Time #1)

Wren

“ I think I’ve settled on what will be better when I win,” Waylen drawls, and the weight of his gaze returns to me. “Draining every drop of blood from her body, knowing there’s nothing Riven can do about it from the grave.”

My breath halts. It’s like I’m not a person at all to him, just a reward attached to the seat of a throne he hasn’t yet won.

Riven’s body stills, and in that silence, I know Waylen has just crossed a line he won’t be coming back from.

A feral growl erupts from Riven, the only warning anyone gets before he lunges through the wall of bodies.

He tears forward, fangs bared and glowing red eyes locked on Waylen like a death sentence already written.

I’ve seen Riven intense and protective, but this version of him feels deeper and more primal. I know it’s Waylen’s talk of me that sent him over the edge, not the talk of taking the throne–just…me.

The knowledge settles deeply into my heart, making whatever my tie is to this vampire that much stronger.

The vampire woman who was in Waylen’s face suddenly appears in front of Riven.

“Enough!” she shouts. “Riven!”

He doesn’t stop.

“If you strike him now,” she warns, voice dropping low with conviction, “without a ritual challenge formally initiated, and no legal cause for retaliation per the laws you wrote, you forfeit the crown.”

A small gasp escapes me, but her words don't reach him.

His body pulses with fury–his forearm muscles are coiled, his fangs are fully bared, and his pupils are elongated into a predator’s slits. He doesn’t hear her or see anyone except his prey–Waylen.

That smug bastard just stands there, arms crossed, grin sharp and delighted like this is all part of his twisted plan.

My heart pounds so loudly I hear it ringing in my ears.

“Riven,” I say, the name barely a whisper at first .

No response.

My voice tightens as I take a step forward, despite the wall of vampires between us.

“Riven. Please! ”

His gaze snaps to mine and I jump on the chance to hopefully get through to him, pleading, “Please, you have to stop. His words mean nothing to me, and it sounds like it’s just a way to dethrone you, because everyone here knows he will die if he goes against you in combat.”

I see him start to return to himself, bit by agonizing bit, and in the process, I watch Waylen’s hands drop and curl into fists at his sides.

My words were meant to calm Riven, but if it meant bruising Waylen’s ego in the process, I consider it a large bonus. Seeing his reaction gives even more truth to my words–he knows his chance of beating Riven is slim-to-none.

The glow dims in Riven’s eyes as his nostrils flare with deep breaths, and it must be a good sign because the vampires around him ease their harsh grip on him. He exhales sharply through his nose and brushes their hands from his arms.

Then he’s moving toward me, and maybe I should be afraid after hearing how ruthless he can be in combat and seeing that he’s still agitated, but if this moment has taught me anything, it’s that he puts my well-being above everything.

I trust him entirely with my life, but I don’t understand what I did to matter so much to him in a short time. That lingering question stays tucked in a close corner of my mind, not forgotten, but neatly stored for later.

When he reaches me, there’s no warning before I’m swept off my feet and into his arms. My hands instinctively wrap around his neck and the adrenaline surging through me begins to calm.

There’s something about his scent, his warmth, and the steady feel of his hands on me that anchors me with an ease that should startle me.

Maybe we both need to figure out the answer for how we can mean so much to each other in this timespan.

The warehouse and cobblestone streets of the nest vanish around us in a rush of wind and blurred images. He slows to a stop, and the sudden quiet is broken only by the distant call of a bird and the slow, lapping water against the shore.

He sets me down gently and turns away, pacing as I take a breath and scan the new area.

Tall cypress trees rise from the muddy bank, their limbs draped in moss that sways in the air.

The water stretches out behind them, reflecting soft pockets of light through the early morning haze.

Fireflies drift in slow spirals above the water’s edge, and the scent of damp earth signals to my brain that we’re likely far from the elegant structures of the nest.

It should be peaceful, being away from the frenzied energy of the vampires and surrounded by nature, but Riven’s pacing stops me from enjoying it entirely.

His shoulders roll beneath the fitted fabric of his shirt, his breath tight and shallow as he runs a hand through his already tousled hair.

I watch his fingers fisting his short waves briefly at the roots before he lets go.

He finally comes to a stop at the base of a thick tree, one palm flat against the rough bark.

I watch a tremor roll through his body as his fingers dig into the tree, as if he’s begging it to anchor him.

I should leave him be, but I can’t stop my feet from crossing the distance to him. When I reach him, I press my hand to the center of his back, hoping he will find the steadiness he’s seeking in me, the way he provides that same peace to me.

The heat of him seeps into my palm. “Riven, please turn and look at me.”

He takes slow, purposeful steps to turn toward me, and I let my hand trail along him to his chest as he does. Yet he doesn’t meet my eyes. His jaw tightens, eyes locked on some far-off point like he’s afraid that if he meets my gaze, whatever burns in him might spill out.

So I press a little harder, wanting to show him that I can handle the energy festering within him. I’m unsure why, but it feels essential to show him I’m strong enough to support him.

“Let me be here for you,” I demand softly.

His eyes find mine at last and I’m shocked to see the unfiltered desire simmering in them. I expected anger or annoyance…not this. As his gaze trails over me, I swear I see a flicker of fear break through.

I can’t hold back my questions any longer. I need to know what led to this moment and these emotions.

“Why?” I ask, not letting him look away. “Why would you risk your title? Your claim over all the nests in your faction’s lands? Everything you’ve built, just because he said something vile about me?”

For a moment, he doesn’t speak, just continues to stare at me with an intensity that steals my breath. Then, quietly, almost like he can hardly come to terms with his words, he breathes, “Because…I didn’t care.”

The confession hangs between us and my brow pinches. I want to ask what he means by that, but I watch the wheels turning in his eyes and decide to give him the space to expand when he’s ready.

He steps closer and lifts his large hands to splay against my hips.

“I didn’t care about the laws, the throne, or the wealth I’ve amassed. The moment he looked at you like that and spoke about you like that, I knew then what mattered.”

My lips part at his confession. It aligns with what I observed, but to hear it spoken aloud–to feel the visceral protective nature he has with me–it’s everything.

His voice stays low, but it gains confidence with every word, like he’s only just realizing the truth as he speaks it aloud. “I’ve ruled for over three centuries. Fought for dominance. Killed to survive. Nothing’s ever moved me from that singular focus–not once.”

One hand lifts, hovering just beside my face as if he’s now hesitant to touch me.

“Until you.”

His fingers tremble on my hip.

“Suddenly the grandeur of my life feels so extremely lonely, at the thought of you not being in it. If someone were to take me from you. If they were to harm you.”

I should say something in return, but I can’t. Not with the weight of his words settling inside me and causing my mouth to feel dry and my throat tight with my own rising emotions.

Until you.

The words repeat in my mind, soft and haunting, and a piece inside me gives way beneath them.

It’s not just what he said–it’s how he said it. With quiet conviction and reverent fear, as if wanting me is the most dangerous thing he’s ever done, yet he'd choose me again and again, even knowing that.

My heart stumbles, then quickens .

I don’t even realize I’ve pulled him closer until my fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, tugging him against my body and erasing any distance between us.

His eyes widen before his restraint crumbles, and suddenly both of his hands are on my face and we move toward each other at the same time.

His mouth crashes into mine with the kind of hunger that steals all breath and thought. One hand buries in my hair, angling my head back to deepen the kiss, the other finding the small of my back, pressing me into his body further.

I gasp into him, and he takes it, swallowing the sound with a low groan that vibrates through his chest.

His lips are soft, though the way he kisses me is anything but.

There’s no hesitation or soft patience as I learn how to do this for the first time–only a hunger that consumes me.

I grip the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching between my fingers. I feel the press of his chest against mine, the rapid thud of his heart, a perfect mirror of my own, and the press of his thigh as it slots between mine.

His fangs graze my lips, not enough to pierce, just enough to remind me what he is.

It doesn’t frighten me…it makes the ache growing in my core expand rapidly .

The hand on my back slides lower to cup the curve of my ass, dragging me closer still until there’s no space left between us, no air to breathe that doesn’t come from him.

I don’t know how long we stay like this, but when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, breath heavy and uneven.

“I wasn’t planning on that,” he murmurs, voice hoarse with need still. “But a part of me needed it to know I’m not alone in this aching need I feel for you.”

My lips are swollen, my chest rising and falling in a panting rhythm.

“I needed it too,” I whisper, and I mean it.

Not just the kiss, but the feeling of being fought for. I know in my heart that if I ever woke up with no memory again, that there’s nothing in this world that would keep him from finding me.

It heals the jagged piece of me that I’ve tried to silence–the thought that no one seems to be fighting to find me, as if no one cares for me in this world.

It’s a thread of thought that pulls deeply at the center of my chest, because it isn’t only him that I know with certainty would fight to find me.

Sylvin surfaces in my mind, his smirk a mask that never quite hides the depth behind his eyes now that I’ve seen the real him.

The way he defended me before the Spring Court wasn’t strategy or politics–it was personal.

A choice made from loyalty. The sorrow behind his charm when I told him I didn’t belong to the courts.

The weight of falling apart at our breakfast and being seen for exactly who I was at that moment and being wanted anyway.

And Torryn…the way he held me at night without us needing to speak to fill the silence.

How his warmth steadied me when I felt like the earth was against me.

He never asked or demanded anything of me, but still made it clear he would offer everything he had if I just reached for it.

There’s safety in him that feels familiar, like he knew me before I even knew myself.

Even Azyric lingers in the corners of my thoughts, his silence louder than most words.

He hasn’t offered tenderness, not like the others, but his shadows still coil in my mind like a whisper I can’t ignore.

He doesn’t trust me, but he watches me like someone waiting for proof he wants desperately to believe.

A part of me aches for the moment his distance might become something more.

The realization swells in my chest before I can stop it.

I want them all.

Not out of indecision or confusion, but because some deep part of me recognizes each of them. Different pieces, different needs, all shaping something larger than I can begin to understand right now.

I don’t know what to do with that acceptance growing within me .

I’ve been grasping so tightly to finding my duty and purpose in this world, but I’m beginning to see a new path that threads in what I want .

For the first time since waking, I think I might reach out and take it.