Chapter 48
When Riven woke, it was to the unfamiliar feel of clean sheets and filtered light. Another strange room. Another strange bed. But this time, the pain was little more than a shadow.
He blinked up at the ceiling, momentarily disoriented, and then tried to sit.
A firm hand pressed against his chest before he’d even managed to rise. “Don’t be an idiot,” came Aeris’s voice, clipped and dry. “Back down.”
Riven sank immediately. Relief hit him in a wave. Aeris meant safety. Aeris meant he’d made it—somehow—all the way back to House Virellien.
He exhaled shakily, let his head fall back to the pillow. “Thane,” he rasped. “Has he—was he here?”
Aeris snorted and crossed their arms. “Was he here? Please. He was the one who carried your sorry ass in. You were half-dead at the front gate and the guards didn’t even have time to finish reporting it before he was already storming down to collect you himself.”
Riven’s chest tightened. The image came unbidden—Thane, eyes like steel, arms curled around him like a shield. “He brought me in?”
“Personally,” Aeris said. “Growling at anyone who got too close.”
Riven stared up at the ceiling again, stunned. “How long?”
“Two days,” Aeris replied. “You lost a lot of blood. If it weren’t for me being the miracle of modern medicine that I am, you wouldn’t have made it.
Between the gunshot wound, the sedatives still working through your system, and the whole dying-on-his-feet thing you were pulling, it’s a wonder you’re not in a coma. ”
Riven blinked. “Two days…”
“You’ve been in and out. Fevered for most of it. Thane has come and gone, mostly to check in for updates, but he never stayed gone for long.”
Riven let the silence stretch, not sure how to respond to that. A knot formed in his throat. He swallowed it down.
“How bad is it?” he asked finally.
“You’ll live,” Aeris said. “You’re stable, the wound’s fully closed, and the wards are doing what they’re supposed to. Give it another day or two before you try something heroic.”
Before Riven could answer, the infirmary door creaked open.
Thane stepped inside, and everything in Riven stilled.
The room, the world, all of it shrank to the man in the doorway. He looked exhausted—still dressed in black, but with the jacket undone and his dark hair pushed back from his face like he hadn’t bothered to tame it in hours. Maybe days. But his eyes were sharp, locked immediately onto Riven.
Relief slammed through Riven like a drug. Regret followed close behind, curling deep in his gut. He thought of how they’d left things—of everything that had gone unsaid.
And underneath it all, quieter but no less potent, came the heat. Lust, sharp and inconvenient, spiking just from the sight of Thane’s mouth. From the sound of his bootfalls as he crossed the floor.
But more than anything, Riven felt the ache, the consuming, bone-deep need just to be near him. To stay.
Before Thane could say a word, Riven beat him to it.
“You were right,” he said hoarsely. “It was a foolish idea.”
Thane’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t speak.
“I needed to know,” Riven went on quickly. “So let me—just let me finish.”
That, apparently, earned him something. Thane’s brows lifted faintly in amusement, and he gave a single, silent nod.
Riven took a breath, pushing through the fatigue and the tightness in his throat.
“I knew how much the whispers about the Hollow Hand were getting to you. I knew what they meant. Not just now, but…what they brought up. About your father. About the past. I didn’t want to come to you with theories or guesses.
I wanted to bring you something concrete.
Something that could either put those rumors to rest or tell you what we’re actually up against.”
Thane’s expression didn’t change, but he’d stopped moving.
“I’m sorry I disobeyed,” Riven added. “I really am.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Thane slowly lifted both eyebrows, dry as ever. “Aeris, are you sure he’s not still medicated?”
Aeris didn’t even glance up from the chart in their hands. “No sedatives left in his system.”
“Mm.”
“Now, if you’re done posturing,” Aeris said, “I have actual patients to see. Don’t make him bleed again.”
And with that, they tucked the chart into a slot on the wall and swept out, leaving the room achingly quiet.
Thane turned back to Riven, his gaze settling like heat over Riven’s skin. The door clicked shut behind them.
Thane stepped closer to the bed, slow and deliberate, his shadow falling over Riven as he loomed. For a moment, he simply looked at him—eyes scanning Riven’s face, his posture, the subtle winces he tried to hide.
When he finally spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “Are you alright?”
Riven’s breath hitched, surprised by the softness. “I’ll be fine,” he said, throat dry. “Just…don’t undo the bargain.”
Thane’s expression changed in an instant, soft bewilderment twisting into sharp incredulity. “What the fuck do you mean?”
Riven forced himself to hold Thane’s gaze. “You said you had no use for a pet that doesn’t listen. If you undo the deal, the House will come for my sister. I need the deal to stand.”
Thane didn’t respond right away. The silence dragged between them.
Then, quietly: “Is that all that kept you here? Your duty to her?”
The question was a scalpel, precise and merciless.
Riven’s answer came too fast, unguarded. “No—”
His eyes widened, lips parting like he hadn’t even meant to say it. But he had. The truth was there now, breathing between them.
“No,” he repeated, quieter this time, hoarse and ashamed. “It’s not. I tell myself it is. But I stayed for you too. I need to be close to you.”
He hated how raw he sounded, how desperate it felt in his chest to say the words. But they were true, even if he still didn’t fully understand what it meant.
Thane’s gaze turned molten—his pupils dilated, mouth slightly parted, eyes fixed on Riven like he was something caged and shining and entirely his. He leaned down slowly, hands braced on either side of the bed, until his mouth hovered just above Riven’s.
So close.
Riven’s breath caught. His body ached—not from the wound, but from the heat and tension radiating off Thane in waves.
And then Thane smiled, wicked and cruel, and didn’t kiss him.
Riven made a soft, frustrated sound—humiliated by the way it escaped him, by how badly he wanted.
“You want to stay?” Thane murmured, low and dangerous. “Then beg.”
The word slithered down Riven’s spine, electric. Part of him balked. Part of him screamed not to give Thane the satisfaction. But Thane’s breath was on his lips, and his eyes were full of fire, and Riven’s need was a living thing inside him.
“Please,” Riven said, barely more than a whisper. “Let me stay. Keep me. Use me.”
Thane’s smile deepened into something feral and triumphant.
And then he kissed him—deep and searing, teeth and hunger and dominance. Riven clung to him with both hands, drinking him in like air after drowning, like he’d been starving for the taste of him and finally—finally—had been allowed to feast.
He didn’t know what came next.
He just knew he wasn’t ready to let go.