Chapter 31
RYNETH
Ryneth woke to sunlight warming the bed.
He blinked at the ceiling for a moment, feeling strangely refreshed as his thoughts slowly caught up with the morning.
Behind him, Daven slept heavily, one arm draped over Ryneth’s waist, his hand resting low like he’d fallen asleep still holding on.
Warm breath brushed the back of Ryneth’s neck, just behind his ear, and a shiver ran through him.
Even asleep, Daven felt like a predator, his body heavy and certain behind him, his hand still low on Ryneth’s stomach.
The memory came back in flashes. Rain on glass. Wind. Daven’s mouth at his throat. The Breaking Storm above them while Daven took him apart like there had never been any other way this could end.
A pulse answered low in his body, sharp enough to make his thighs tighten under the sheets.
Ryneth closed his eyes and smiled to himself. He wanted Daven again. He always wanted Daven. Some part of him had stopped pretending there would ever be enough.
Carefully, Ryneth lifted Daven’s arm and turned in his hold, slow enough that the prince only shifted deeper into the pillow.
He took him in. Blond hair wrecked from sleep. Thick brows. Long lashes against warm skin. That beautiful mouth, parted slightly, still dangerous even at rest.
A faint mark lingered at the edge of Daven’s throat. Ryneth’s doing.
A warm, pleased feeling moved through him. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Daven’s forehead before slipping quietly out of bed.
Daven made a low sound in his sleep and reached for him, fingers dragging once over Ryneth’s stomach like even half-asleep he meant to pull him back.
“Greedy bastard,” Ryneth murmured. Carefully, he slipped out from under the sheets. The first full step made him wince hard enough to hiss. “Fuck,” he muttered, smiling anyway.
His body ached everywhere that mattered. Deep between his thighs. Low in his hips. That faint burn from being used by someone who knew exactly how to make him beg.
Ryneth paused, then looked back at Daven still sprawled in the bed.
He had barely shifted. One arm still lay thrown across the space Ryneth had left behind, and his mouth was parted, hair a mess, the sheet still low on his hips like he had wrecked Ryneth under a storm and passed out satisfied with himself.
Which he probably had.
Ryneth stood there a little longer than he meant to, looking at him. The man who had changed everything.
A few weeks ago, Helion had been a trap. Daven had felt like danger with a beautiful face, a cruel mouth, and too much power in his hands.
Now Ryneth stood in his room with Daven’s marks on his throat, his own marks on Daven’s skin, soreness between his legs, and the quiet certainty that if anyone tried to take this from him, he would tear the city apart with his bare hands.
The bond pulsed low and warm under his skin, enough to make him breathe out through a smile.
He bent to gather his clothes from the floor, found his trousers, found one boot halfway under the chair, then stopped when he saw one of Daven’s clean black shirts hanging over the back of it.
Daven’s.
He reached for it without thinking. The shirt slid over his skin, carrying Daven’s clean scent. He left the buttons half-done, the hem hanging low over his thighs.
“Mine now,” he murmured, smiling to himself as he padded out of the bedroom barefoot, moving slower than usual because his body still ached.
The thought hit him a second later and made that smile deepen.
It wasn’t just the shirt. It was the bed, the coffee, the music playing somewhere in the background, Daven’s strong body holding him tight in the dark, all of it settling around him like something dangerously close to home.
It was ridiculous.
And it felt dangerously close to happiness.
Sunlight spilled through the glass, laying pale strips across the wooden floor. The penthouse still looked polished and expensive, but this morning it felt warmer somehow, lived-in in a way that made the quiet settle around him instead of closing in.
He padded into the kitchen and slowed.
A few weeks ago, he might have looked at the polished counters and thought Daven barely used the place.
Now he knew better. He’d caught him here more than once after the academy, leaning against the island with coffee in one hand and his multi-slate in the other, or halfway through making something he acted far too pleased with when it turned out edible.
This morning, the signs were easy to spot. A folded towel. Flour dusted across one corner of the counter. Half of a cut citrus fruit beside a knife.
Ryneth smiled to himself and headed for the coffee machine.
Fresh tiganos waited on the counter beside the cups, so someone had already been by. The sight of them made him snort softly.
Maybe Daven had been telling the truth. Maybe poor Vandor really had been stuck with morning tiganos duty just because the prince didn’t like him.
Ryneth shook his head, smiling to himself as he poured the coffee.
Daven was awake by the time he stepped inside.
Still sprawled across the bed, one arm behind his head, hair wrecked, eyes heavy with sleep and already fixed on him.
His gaze dropped to the cups in Ryneth’s hands, then slid lower, over the shirt hanging open at his throat, over the bare length of his legs, over the fact that Ryneth had clearly stolen something that belonged to him and looked far too pleased about it.
A slow smile curved Daven’s mouth. “Well.” His voice came rough with sleep. “That’s a dangerous thing to wake up to.”
Ryneth approached the bed without taking his eyes off him.
Daven watched the movement. Then his gaze dropped to the marks on Ryneth’s throat. “Come here.”
Ryneth climbed onto the bed, one knee sinking into the mattress beside Daven’s thigh, already warm all over again from the way Daven was looking at him. The coffee had become an excuse the second he had stepped back into the room.
Daven’s hand slid to his hip, thumb pressing into the bare skin under the hem of his shirt. “Put it down, baby.”
Ryneth set the cups on the nightstand without looking away. Then he leaned in, slow on purpose, and brushed his mouth over Daven’s jaw instead of kissing him properly. “Fresh tiganos are in the kitchen. Poor Vandor’s been by already.”
Daven huffed a laugh, but the sound turned rough when Ryneth shifted over him, the shirt falling open a little more at his throat. His palm slid lower, settling hard on Ryneth’s ass. “I don’t want breakfast.”
Ryneth’s mouth curved. “No?”
Daven dragged him closer until he was half over his chest, half trapped under that hand. “I want you on my face.”
Heat punched through Ryneth so fast it stole his breath.
Daven watched it happen. Watched the flush climb his throat. Watched the way his body reacted before his mind caught up. His grip tightened once, possessive enough to make Ryneth’s pulse kick. “Get up here and use my mouth.”
Ryneth swallowed. Then he moved. Slowly, because his body still remembered the night before. Carefully, because the ache between his legs flared the second he shifted over Daven’s hips. And still hungry enough that none of it made him stop.
Daven helped him into place with both hands on him, one locked at his waist, the other gripping under his thigh as he guided him closer. The movement made Ryneth gasp, his cock brushing Daven’s mouth, and then Daven’s tongue flicked over the tip in one slow stroke that made his whole body jolt.
“That’s it.” Daven’s mouth curved around him, lips brushing the head before he licked him again, slow and deliberate, like he meant to taste every reaction out of him. “Pretty thing.”
Ryneth’s breath shook. Daven looked up at him through his lashes, hair a mess against the pillows, mouth still soft from sleep and already working him open, eyes hot enough to make arousal hit all over again.
One hand slid higher on Ryneth’s thigh, keeping him spread just enough while the other stayed firm on his hip, holding him exactly where he wanted him.
“You came in here in my shirt,” Daven said, voice rough against his skin. His tongue dragged over the underside of Ryneth’s cock, slow enough to make him shudder. “Brought me coffee. Walked in looking like that.” His mouth curved. “You were asking for trouble.”
Ryneth made a small sound that might have been a laugh if he hadn’t already been breathing too hard. “You were already trouble.”
Daven’s fingers flexed on him. “And you still came back.”
“Always.”
Something hot flashed across Daven’s face at that. He tipped his head and took Ryneth deeper, suckling on him slow, tongue pressing under the head before he pulled back just enough to do it again.
Ryneth moaned, hips jerking before he could stop them. “Oh, fuck.”
Daven made a pleased sound against him and licked him again, longer this time, like he was in no hurry at all. His hand tightened on Ryneth’s hip when he tried to move too much, keeping him right where he wanted him while he worked him with slow, filthy patience.
Daven kept going, slow enough to make it unbearable, his mouth working him with patient, deliberate pressure that made Ryneth’s knees weaken and his breath come apart almost at once. The pressure built fast, and Ryneth already knew he wasn’t going to last.
“Daven,” he gasped, fingers tightening in his hair. “Fuck, I’m—”
Daven pulled off with a wet sound, a grin flashing across his face. “That’s it, baby. Use me.”
Then he took him back in, deeper this time.
Ryneth’s head tipped back. One hand braced uselessly against the headboard while the other stayed buried in Daven’s hair.
His hips jerked. His thighs shook. Every drag of Daven’s mouth pushed him closer until he was openly moaning, wrecked enough that he didn’t care what he sounded like.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. “Feels so good. Daven.”
Daven only made a pleased sound and kept going.