Chapter 49
Thane ended the kiss far too early for Riven’s liking.
His lips tingled, still parted in hope, but Thane had already pulled back, his expression cool again, composed in that infuriating way that made Riven want to claw at him.
Riven reached for him—desperate, shameless—but Thane caught his wrist and held it still, his gaze burning.
“Needy little thing,” Thane murmured.
The words struck Riven like a slap and a caress at once.
He shivered, the truth of it settling deep in his bones, unwanted and undeniable.
He was. He was so fucking needy for Thane it made him sick.
That kiss had barely scratched the surface, and already his body was aching for more—more contact, more heat, more of Thane’s voice in his ear and his weight on top of him.
But Thane only gave him a small, amused smile. “As much as I want to bend you over this infirmary bed and fuck the fight back into you,” he said softly, “you’re in no condition for what I want to do to you right now.”
Riven’s protest came immediately, a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “I can—”
Thane silenced him with a finger to his lips. “Don’t lie.”
Riven’s heart thundered under the gentle pressure of Thane’s fingertip.
His body, traitorous and exhausted, agreed.
It was a miracle he’d survived, let alone made it back, and though the pain was muted thanks to Aeris’s work, he was still barely holding himself upright.
But the closeness, the taste of Thane—it made him reckless.
“There will be time for that,” Thane said, smooth command like they hadn’t just kissed, like Riven wasn’t still aching. “But first, we need to talk. I need you to tell me everything. From the moment you left the estate to the moment you came back.”
Riven hesitated, but the edge in Thane’s voice was unmistakable. He exhaled slowly and nodded, forcing himself to focus.
“I left the estate just after Caerel briefed me,” Riven said. “He gave me the go-ahead to approach Lareth, said the increased activity might give us a chance to push through. Told me to get creative if I needed to. So I did. I went back to The Ember Gate.”
He kept his eyes on the ceiling as he spoke, unwilling to look at Thane during the worst parts. “I waited. Tried to seem desperate enough to catch their attention. Lareth bought it. Said they needed someone with combat experience, someone willing to get his hands dirty. I didn’t say no.”
The words felt flat in his mouth, but he pushed on.
“They loaded me into a freight truck, said we were going to test my loyalty. I didn’t know where we were going. I tried to track it, but it was no use in the back. I told myself they needed me alive, that they wouldn’t kill me, but I didn’t know.”
Riven finally looked over. Thane was still, jaw tight, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I waited for a chance to fight my way out, and when the door opened, I took it. Took one of them down. But there were too many. I held my own for a bit, but then Kieran shot me in the leg.”
The growl that escaped Thane was low and guttural, barely restrained. Riven flinched despite himself.
“Kieran,” Thane said, voice razor-sharp, “is already dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Riven swallowed. “They patched me up, sort of. Kept me locked in a bedroom. And while I was drifting in and out, I overheard something. Someone talking about the Hollow Hand.”
That name turned the air brittle between them. Thane’s expression darkened, and something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
“It’s real,” Riven said quietly. “You were right. They said the Hollow Hand has waited too long to let things fall apart now. They were arguing about how risky it was, but they’re planning something. Something big.”
“And the man who helped you escape?”
“I don’t know his name. He said he was with House Virellien. Deep cover. Helped me get out, got me to a car with preloaded coordinates. Said he had to stay behind to protect his cover.”
Thane ran a hand through Riven’s hair, brushing it back from his face. The gesture was unexpectedly tender, fingers lingering against his scalp.
“You did well,” Thane murmured. “Too well. You scared the shit out of me.”
Riven’s breath caught. “You were the one who found me?”
“Yes,” Thane said. “You were almost at the gates, collapsed against the bars. The guards called me. I told them if they so much as breathed on you, I’d end them.”
The heat in Riven’s chest spread out like sunlight under his skin.
“I needed to know,” Riven whispered. “About the Hollow Hand. About what we were really facing. I thought…I thought if I could be useful to you, then maybe—”
“You are,” Thane said sharply. “You are useful. But more than that, Riven, I—”
“I’m not ready for you to leave,” Riven interrupted, reaching up, reckless with exhaustion and longing. He slid a hand over Thane’s abdomen, down to the bulge beneath his belt. “Not yet.”
Thane’s breath hitched, cock stirring under Riven’s palm. “Fuck,” he muttered, catching Riven’s wrist again—but not pulling it away.
Riven squeezed lightly. “I want you. I want to feel you.”
“There will be plenty of time to satisfy your cock-drunken lust, darling,” Thane murmured. “But right now, you need rest.”
Riven groaned in frustration. “I’ll rest when I’ve had you again.”
Thane leaned down and kissed him—longer this time, deeper. A claiming kiss, and wasn’t just possession anymore. There was something raw underneath it, something unspoken.
When Thane finally pulled away, Riven was gasping for air, lips bruised and heart hammering.