Chapter 23 #3
He didn’t mention it was his first time being invited to someone’s house. It was bad enough he had confessed that to Vandor, let alone to Daven.
Perhaps he would admit it one day, but that day was not today.
Then he glanced sideways at Daven. “How was your run?”
“Good.” Daven rolled his shoulders. “Cleared my head.” His eyes slid toward Ryneth. “Though I noticed you didn’t answer my message.”
Ryneth shrugged. “I didn’t think you needed an answer.”
Daven’s mouth curved slowly. He leaned closer, voice dropping into a low growl. “Next time you ignore me, aethera, I might have to punish you for it.”
Ryneth snorted, trying to ignore the way his stomach dipped at Daven’s words. He hated how much he liked it when the prince talked like that.
Like the world already belonged to them.
They crossed the last stretch of the path in silence.
When Daven finally opened the door to another building, Ryneth frowned. “Where are we? We don’t usually have class here?”
“I told you, I have a surprise for you.” Daven kissed his temple, then dragged his mouth to his ear and flicked his tongue against his earlobe. “If you can be a good boy and sit in class for four hours until I pick you up.”
A group of students climbed the steps, arguing about load ratios and something about tensile limits.
“That depends.” Ryneth blinked. “What is this?”
“Civil engineering.”
He turned slowly. “What?”
“Civil engineering.” Daven grinned, looking too fucking smug. “You told me you love construction. Helion builds more than glass towers. I guess they could use someone like you.”
Ryneth blinked. He had only said that this morning. How the hell had Daven already moved this fast?
“I can’t—”
“You can.” Daven stepped closer, his thumb brushing over Ryneth’s lower lip before sliding down to his chin. “But only if I find you here in four hours’ time. If you run, I’ll chase you down, bring you back home, and punish you for being a bad boy. Understand?”
Heat rushed through Ryneth’s body. “Punish me?”
Daven grinned. “Of course that’s the only thing you registered from what I said. Do you want me to punish you, baby?”
“Fuck,” Ryneth breathed when Daven found his hardened length and squeezed.
“Tell you what. If you stay here and give me a full debrief when we get home, I’ll reward you instead. And I promise you’ll prefer that.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Daven’s gaze did not waver. “Four hours.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
Students passed by, glancing, pretending not to stare.
Daven leaned in and kissed him slowly. His hand moved to the back of Ryneth’s neck, fingers curling there, holding him in place just long enough for it to be seen.
Ryneth’s pulse spiked.
Daven pulled back, eyes dark. “Be good,” he said softly. “Sit. Learn. And wait for me to pick you up. Don’t make me come looking for you.”
Then he stepped away without looking back.
Ryneth stood there for a second, heat climbing under his skin, palms tingling, mouth still warm.
He turned and entered the lecture hall. Screens lined the front wall. A projection already glowed with diagrams of support frames and barrier arcs.
He slid into a seat near the middle.
The professor began speaking about storm-break structures, about atmospheric shields designed to redirect pressure rather than resist it outright, about walls that failed because they were built to stand alone instead of distributing force across a network.
Ryneth stared at the diagram.
For a second, the professor’s projection blurred into Cyprian’s charcoal wall. He opened his notebook to take notes, then paused and flipped back to the flower he had drawn. What had Daven called it?
The Solvine Bloom.
And he’d promised to send one to Tavi.
Ryneth’s fingers hovered over the drawing.
Maybe Daven meant it.
The hope came fast and stupid, and Ryneth shoved it down just as quickly. Still, for a second he imagined Tavi holding the strange flower, staring at it the way he used to stare at the stars through the cracked dormitory window.
He swallowed and shook his head.
Daven was cruel and cocky, but whatever Ryneth tried to make of him in his thoughts, his chest still fluttered.
Daven was going to reward him tonight.
Ryneth would be a good boy, take notes, and give Daven a full debrief of class. He would prove that he was meant to be an engineering student.
He wanted it so badly.
Ryneth looked back at the diagram on the board, at the barrier failing because its anchors held too hard instead of giving with the force against it.
The Ward had been built on that same idea. One line. One wall. One promise that if they held their ground, the danger would stay on the far side.
But in Cyprian’s drawing there had been nothing there.
Ryneth kept staring at the projection, his thoughts sliding back to Düren, to the rain that so often came in hard from somewhere beyond sight, to all those nights he had stood watch with a wooden stick in his hands and a knot in his stomach, waiting for the wrong thing to show itself first.
Maybe the threat had never been where they were told to look.
Maybe that was why this class hit so hard. It was not only numbers and structures and pressure paths on a screen. It was the first thing in a long time that made part of his old life line up with the person he might still become.
And for the first time since arriving on Helion, something in him settled. This was not only Daven’s world pressing in around him. This could be his too.
For the first time, hope didn’t feel like a trap.
When class ended, he gathered his things and stepped back into the courtyard.
Daven was already there, waiting like he had never left.
Leaning against the stone balustrade with his hands in his pockets, he watched Ryneth approach. “Well?”
Ryneth stopped in front of him, breath uneven, eyes bright. “It was about storm barriers,” he said quickly. “About pressure redistribution. About why structures fail when they’re isolated instead of reinforced. About—”
Daven’s mouth curved faintly. “You liked it.”
“Yes.”
Daven pushed off the railing and stepped close enough for their shoulders to brush. “Good. Now we go home and you’ll tell me all about it while I treat you.”
Ryneth’s breath caught.
It happened so fast now, the way his body gave in around Daven. The tightness in his chest eased. The noise in his head thinned. One look, one touch, and he felt it everywhere.
Yes, he wanted that.
He wanted Daven’s hands on him. Daven’s mouth. Daven’s praise.
But worse than that, he wanted the things he couldn’t hold.
He wanted more of the man himself.
Wanted the thoughts Daven kept behind that smug mouth. Wanted the real reason for every look, every order, every moment of softness that slipped through when he least expected it. Wanted what Daven never said out loud.
It scared him, how badly he wanted that.
He studied him again. The strong jaw. The straight nose. Those ember eyes that always seemed to find him, no matter how crowded the world got.
As if Daven would always know where to look.
Daven kissed his temple. “Everything,” he murmured.
Ryneth’s pulse stumbled.
Light. Maybe that was the problem.
Some part of him was starting to want to give it.
Daven slid his hand to the back of Ryneth’s neck again, guiding him forward through the crowd.
For once, Ryneth didn’t resist.