Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Excerpt from the Veydran Code of Conduct:
You are a mask. Nothing more. Nothing less.
RIVEN
The tired, dull cloud in her eyes vanishes, consumed by fury.
Celine hasn’t aimed this much anger my way since the monster realm. Barefoot and barefaced, half-covered with an insubstantial towel, she’s terrifying.
I stifle the sudden urge to run.
She crosses her arms, a limp hand towel dangling from her fingertips. “Do I look like my feelings are hurt?”
“That’s a trick question, bro. Tread carefully,” Ciprian shouts.
Her scowl grows, and I wince. I don’t need his help. At least, I don’t think I do. “Stay out of this, Ciprian,” she snarls, narrowing her eyes when the crazy demon cackles in response.
Celine grabs the front of my shirt and yanks me into the bathroom before slamming the door behind me. I keep my hands at my sides. Maybe I hurt her feelings and maybe I didn’t, but in her current mood, if my phrasing isn’t exactly right, Celine will be happy to argue about it.
“Was there anything else you wanted to say?” She drops her fingers from my chest only to tug at the hem of my shirt.
It’s helplessly creased, and as soon as she lets go, the fabric wrinkles again.
Frowning, she reaches into the shower, turns the water all the way hot, and waits in silence as steam fills the room, swirling around us both.
Celine pulls down on my shirt again, holding it for a few seconds. Her knuckles graze my hips when she lets go. The stubborn wrinkles stay put.
“I need this,” she mutters, tugging on my sleeve. “Give it to me.”
My heart thuds. She’s distracted, focused entirely on the damned shirt, and I couldn’t be more relieved. Her preoccupation gives me time to think, even though I’m terrified for her to see me shirtless. Don’t be a coward.
Slowly, I work the shirt over my head and hold it out as a peace offering.
She snatches it from me without giving me a second glance and takes it closer to the shower to resume working on the wrinkles.
Water pounds against the shower floor. The steam is thick enough to taste. I wait patiently, a dangerous tenderness building inside me as I watch her fuss over my shirt.
I’m acutely aware of her anger, so why am I glad to be here?
After a long silence, Celine freezes.
I know the exact moment she realizes how strange her actions are because her spine locks, one bump at a time, before she turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder.
Liquid clings to her lashes, and her lips are pouty and downturned.
Her posture screams closed off, but her face .
. . gods, her face is painfully vulnerable.
I would tear the world to pieces for her if she asked.
A low, rough sound escapes my throat. “Don’t,” I demand, the word wholly insufficient for everything I need to communicate. Don’t what? Don’t move. Don’t leave. Don’t give up on me. I’m lost, with no idea what to do.
It’s exhilarating.
I raise my hand slowly—it’s as amber and other as the rest of me—and give her plenty of time to knock it away, snap my neck, or do any damn thing she desires.
Celine doesn’t move an inch, and before I can convince myself it’s a bad idea, my fingers graze her cheek. Her skin is petal soft. It feels fragile, but that’s a lie, because no one is tougher than the angel in front of me.
A bead of water rolls from her hairline, stopping where my hand meets her cheek.
It sits there, trapped, unable to fall or get between us.
I watch it with wonder, questioning what I’ve done to deserve this.
My shirt slips from her fingers and falls to the damp tile, forgotten.
I breathe her name. Her pupils expand, pools of inky darkness devouring the warm brown of her eyes. I slide my thumb to the corner of her mouth, carefully transferring the bead of water from her cheek to her lips.
The tip of her tongue darts out, then the drop is gone.
My skin is too tight. The tension between us too thick. I’m scared to break it, but I can barely breathe when Celine looks at me like this.
“I’m only going to ask you this once,” Celine says, her voice transforming each boring word into a raspy promise. “Do you want me, Riven?”
My face glitches, and a wave of self-loathing follows closely in its wake.
I’m standing in front of her, bare to the waist, and terrified. Celine acts as if she sees me, but how can she when I’ve never even seen myself?
“Darling,” I beg her for mercy.
She sucks my thumb into her mouth instead.
The hot rasp of her tongue is dangerous. It’s a bridge toward more. The more I want above anything else. The more that keeps me up at night imagining all the things I could do to her.
More might kill me, because once I’ve had it, how can I survive with less?
Celine’s teeth score my thumb before she releases it with a gentle lick. “It’s a simple question, Riven.”
I shake my head. Nothing about her is simple.
Surely, she knows that. Every second that she stares at me with want in her eyes, my control slips another inch.
If I let go now, will I ever get it back?
Or will I belong to her forever—a creature trapped by obsession—until every damned star falls from the sky?
Celine tilts her head back, reaching up to toy with the fold of the towel above her left breast. “Last chance,” she purrs. “Do you want me or not?”
My chest rises and falls shakily, but I can’t take my eyes off her. The stars could fall right now, and I’m not sure I would notice. My entire reality exists inside this bathroom. Steam. Pounding water. And desire so strong I can’t fight it. I can’t resist her, and I don’t want to.
I swallow heavily and nod, unable to force my lips to form a single syllable.
Celine’s lips curl, and her fingers tug at the towel.
It falls.
I can’t get enough air.
The urge to shift hits me hard. If I were someone else right now, there would be a level of separation between us. I would be one step removed from the living, screaming need clawing its way out of me to get to her.
I’m raw and exposed instead. Vulnerable.
I should leave and never come back.
A new life . . . I could have one if I wanted it. But with Celine standing in front of me—wearing nothing but a smirk that dares me to take what I want—how could I want anything but her?
Soft curves and a backbone of steel; she’s a beautiful contradiction. And I’ve never wanted anything more. I’ve wasted so much time. The power of speech returns to me in a rush.
“Of course I want you,” I say, my voice harsh. “Since I first laid eyes on you, I’ve seen nothing and no one else.”
Celine smiles. “Go on,” she says.
I narrow my eyes and shake my head. “It’s your turn, darling. Why my shirt?”
She glances at the floor where the crumpled fabric lays in a heap, then rolls her shoulders back and meets my eyes defiantly. “Because you hurt my feelings.”
I’m not sure who moves first. All I know is the distance between us vanishes like smoke.
Her bare skin collides with mine, and my lips are on hers, taking everything she gives me and knowing it will never be enough to satisfy my hunger for her.
She smells of the unfamiliar products scattered around the bathroom.
I want to replace them with the scent of us until it’s so intertwined that no one can distinguish where I begin and she ends.
Celine drags her lips away from mine. I growl, then feel her smile against my jaw as she peppers kisses down my neck and collarbone. Her nipples graze my chest, and she kisses her way down my stomach, the tip of her tongue darting out to taste me as she explores.
There’s no hiding what’s been done to me, what they’ve taken.
I try not to think about it, but I’m more other than man. As I stare at the dark red strands of red hair grazing my amber-coated skin, uncertainty chokes me. “Celine,” I groan. “Wait, darling. I can be someone else for you. Give me a second to cool down, and I’ll be whoever you want me to be.”
She freezes; lips pressed to my hipbone. “Anyone I want?”
Her tone tells me nothing, and with the steam, I can’t read her expression either.
I gulp around the lump in my throat. “Of course,” I say, doing my best to sound unaffected. “Say the word, and I’ll do my best.”
Then her lips are gone, and she’s standing in front of me again.
She grabs my wrist and brings my fingers to one stiff nipple. “Tell me, Riven, does it feel like I want you to be anyone else?” I frown, and she drags my hand between her legs.
Gods, she’s silken perfection and soaking wet. For me. For this cursed form. I don’t understand it. It breaks me completely. I’m almost surprised when the amber coating that binds me doesn’t fall to the bathroom floor and shatter.
“Well?” Celine demands. “What does that tell you?” Her voice is hard, but the expression on her face is unbearably soft. Another beautiful contradiction.
“You want me?” I choke out the question that’s been haunting me since she first kissed me in the hedge.
“I want you,” Celine says firmly. Her tone leaves no room for doubt, yet I can’t quite bring myself to accept it.
I meet her gaze, gather all my courage, and ask, “Why?”
She cocks her head and tucks a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll answer you. I’m not deflecting, I just have one question first: why does that matter to you?”
Why does it matter? I’m not sure I know.
All I know is that Celine standing here, touching me, wanting me, is too good to be true.
I learned at a young age that I couldn’t have things like her—beautiful things, real things.
I’ve fucked my share of shifted veydran in the past, but I’ve never touched anyone with this face or these hands.
They wouldn’t have wanted that. Wouldn’t have wanted me.
A memory hits me hard: Celine staring up at me the night I sent her into the arena to die.
I offered to show her any face she wanted then too; it was the least I could do. Shame and guilt were tearing me to pieces, cracking the brittle veneer of detachment I’d worked for years to construct around myself.
Even that night, when she thought my face would be the last one she saw, she let me keep it.
It changed me, but I still don’t understand.
Celine isn’t in love with me. Not now and certainly not then. She values truth and order, and I’m the opposite of both. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. That’s the answer to her question, but if I tell her that, I’ll lose this moment.
Her fingers grip my chin. “Where did you go?” she asks. “You’re standing in front of me, but you’ve never been so far away.”
I blink, and bands of static roll over my face, neck, and chest. I’m glitching, my lack of control too obvious to hide. Celine’s eyes never stray from mine. I’m the one who looks away. I’m a coward, and I can’t deny it. Nothing is more terrifying than hope.
“I can’t tell you,” I whisper. “I might not survive your response.”
Celine strokes my cheek. “Are you worried about the mask or worried that I’ll see beneath it?” She kisses me again, softer this time, and sighs against my lips.
There’s nothing that could erase my desire for her, but now that the urgency is gone, I can absorb every touch without distraction or escape.
“You didn’t answer my question, but I’ll answer yours, anyway.
You fascinate me,” Celine says. “But it has nothing to do with the mask and everything to do with you. The way you think, how you move, the inherent kindness living within you that the monster realm couldn’t destroy.
There’s a connection between us. I know it, the guys know it, and you know it, too, but I won’t beg for you, Riven.
If you want me, you’ll have to conquer your fear and take me. ”
She bends to retrieve her towel, then leaves me in a cloud of steam. I shiver, despite the heat. The chill is coming from inside me, and without her, there’s nothing to hold it back.
My pants join my shirt on the ground. I step into the shower and let the hot water stab me until my skin stings as badly as the rest of me.
Celine wanted me, and I did nothing about it.
I can be anyone, but when it mattered the most, I didn’t have what it took to be hers.