Chapter 9 Wren
Wren
Riven.
My chest tightens with his name echoing through my mind. The scent of him folds over me and my body reacts before my mind can form a single logical thought. My muscles loosen against him, some deep part of me recognizing him as home.
“You’re not here,” I whisper, too afraid to turn back and ruin whatever illusion this is.
Emotion clogs my throat at how cruel this dream is to remind me of everything I’ve lost.
He huffs out a deep chuckle that reverberates through his chest and into my back, his lips skimming along the curve where my jaw meets my neck. “Denial doesn’t suit you,” he murmurs. “I’m right here.”
Tears spring to my eyes at how badly I wish this were real.
His mouth trails lower, placing a slow, lingering kiss just beneath my ear. Heat blooms outward from that single point, sliding down my neck and sinking into my chest. His hand tightens as it settles at my waist, fingers flexing as he pulls me more firmly back against him.
My hips nudge back against his body without meaning to and his answering inhale is sharp.
A lone tear trails out of the corner of my eye before rolling down my cheek to meet my pillow.
It feels wrong to indulge in this fantasy, but I can’t stop myself, hopelessly lost to the ache in which I yearn for him.
I shouldn’t cave, knowing full well it’ll hurt so much more when I wake with the memory.
“There she is,” he whispers, voice dipping even lower as the words brush against my skin. “I’ve missed every little reaction from you, darling. Every breath. Every shift of your body.”
His nose nuzzles against the side of my throat, drawing in a slow breath, as if he’s memorizing my scent all over again. His lips follow the path his nose traced, open-mouthed this time, fangs just grazing—not enough to hurt, just enough to send a shiver racing down my spine.
My body comes to life at the reminder of his fangs sinking into me and the euphoria of the intimacy it brought. I tilt my head further into the pillow, subconsciously offering my neck.
“Humans don’t deserve you,” he says, his hand sliding up from my waist to my stomach, his palm pressing lightly above my navel. “They don’t deserve your kindness or mercy.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that isn’t true, that the earth has shown me that they do. Yet the rebuttal dies in my mouth as I remember this isn’t real—he isn’t here. Explaining my decision and rationale to this memory of him would do nothing to assuage my guilt.
Selfishly I tuck the argument into the deep recesses of my thoughts, instead focusing on the way his touch feels.
When I first awoke in this world, I would never have given in to these desires, but I’m no longer the woman searching for a name and meaning.
I’m the weaver who has known the feeling of love budding within my soul, just for it to be stripped away in favor of duty.
Just this once I’ll enjoy this, I tell myself.
My pulse hammers as I entirely let my walls down. I can feel him everywhere—along my back, over my hip, the hard feeling of his cock against the curve of my ass. The fabric of my borrowed outfit does nothing to lessen the sensation of his fingers as they move in slow circles over my abdomen.
“You shouldn’t be in my bed,” I say aloud, though the words are meant for me alone. “Yet here you are.”
“I disagree with that assessment,” he answers with a rumble. “I should be in your bed. Always.”
His hand moves higher, fingers splaying just beneath my ribs, thumb flirting with the underside of my breast through the fabric. My back arches in a small, helpless motion, pressing my body into his palm. The reaction drags a rough groan from him before a pleased hum follows.
“Riven...” I breathe, his name slipping out on an exhale.
“Yes, darling,” he murmurs, lips brushing the delicate skin of my neck with each word. “Tell me what you need and you’ll have it. Anything.”
I feel strung tight and weightless at the same time within the dream, nerves buzzing in every place his body touches mine.
My thighs press together, trying to contain the heat pooling low in my belly.
He shifts behind me, aligning his body more deliberately along mine, making sure I feel every solid inch of him.
His hand slides back down, skimming the curve of my hip, fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt to find bare skin and the contact steals my breath.
His palm is cool against the warmth of my stomach, his fingertips drawing lazy patterns that make my muscles flutter.
The ache in my core grows with every passing second.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” I whisper again, but I turn my face toward him anyway, aching to find his lips. “But I need you, Riven.”
The admission sends a fresh wave of grief through me as his lips capture mine.
Salty tears track down my face to mingle between us.
The kiss is gentle and questioning, but I open myself to him further, inviting him to take every ounce of me that he wants.
He rolls me slightly, just enough that I’m more on my back than my side, his body partially covering mine.
His hand stays on my skin, thumb stroking slow, steady lines that ground me even as the intoxicating kiss pulls me under.
He kisses me like he’s reacquainting himself with every angle of my mouth. My hands lift on instinct, fingers finding the back of his neck and sliding into the soft strands of his hair. Desire takes over entirely, drying my tears as I lose myself in him.
I pull him closer and then instantly I’m flat on my back with him fully settled above me and between my legs.
His tongue sweeps against mine and my hips lift without permission, seeking friction.
He gives me what I want with the slow, controlled grind of his cock against my core, sending sparks through my veins.
“Careful,” he murmurs between kisses. “You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman tonight.”
“Why would you want to do that?” I manage to ask, breathless from my growing need.
This is wrong.
I shove the creeping thought away, desperately clinging to the illusion of this moment. That he’s here and that it’s possible I’m in his arms. For just one moment I want to feel whole again and think that it’s possible to have my kings back.
He smiles against my mouth, a bare curve of lips. “Do you want your precious humans to hear you moan my name, darling?”
His words feel like cold water washing over me and I shake my head. “I don’t want to think about them. Make me forget, Riven. Please.”
The last word is a whispered plea as my eyes sting once again.
“I want to go back in time,” I beg, my voice shaking and cracking as I continue, “I…I need–”
He cuts me off with another kiss and I melt into it.
“I miss you, darling,” he whispers against my lips when he pulls back to stare down into my eyes. “My bed feels wrong without you. I feel wrong without you.”
My heart twists painfully within my chest. “You wouldn’t if this was real and not a dream.”
“You underestimate me,” he mutters, voice rumbling in a deep timber. “Nothing could make me stop wanting you and seeking you out. Not even death.”
His last words land heavily in my stomach and I stiffen beneath him, fingers tightening on the back of his neck. “Don’t,” I whisper. “Don’t say that.”
“You burden yourself needlessly,” he whispers before ghosting his lips over mine. “I am yours and you are mine, and as much as I dislike the other bastards, I know they feel the same.”
His hand leaves my stomach and slides up, cupping my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “You need to sleep.”
“I can’t,” I insist, even as my eyes burn and feel heavy. “I don’t know if you’re going to be here ever again.”
The words sound pathetic to my own ears, but he smiles tenderly down at me. “I’ll find you, always, darling.”
My eyes widen as panic flutters in my chest, erupting with the thought of the dream coming to a close. “But that’s not–”
He hushes me with a soft press of his lips, a lingering kiss that feels like a promise, even in this liminal dream space. Then he shifts, easing me fully onto my side again and settling behind me, pulling me back into the curve of his body as his arm slides heavily across my waist once more.
“Rest,” he murmurs into my hair. “You’ve carried enough for all of us. Let me be the one who watches over you tonight.”
His thumb moves in slow, steady circles over my sternum, the feeling lulling my eyes closed despite my internal panic.
“I’ll be here when you wake,” he adds quietly as his fingers lift to tap once over my heart. “One way or another.”
The words should unsettle me, but in the cocoon of his body, with his breath warm against my skin and his hand over my heart, the fear and questions blur at the edges. My muscles unknot one by one, loosened by the steady, sure weight of him pinned along my back.
My last thought is that this is a cruel comfort—that the universe would give me this feeling of peace in a way I’ll never experience in reality.