The night clung to the city like perfume and sin.
Riven stood on the balcony, shirt half-unbuttoned, watching the distant lights blur into gold streaks. Below, the penthouse pulsed with laughter and music—another carefully orchestrated event. Guests smiled with knives behind their teeth. The champagne sparkled. The lies shimmered brighter.
And Cassian was nowhere in sight.
A soft knock. Not from the door. From behind him.
Riven didn't turn. He knew that scent—dark spice and leather, warm skin laced with danger.
"Enjoying the show?" Cassian's voice was velvet, but it held a sharp edge.
Riven exhaled smoke from a cigarette he hadn't touched in weeks. "You disappeared. Again."
Cassian stepped beside him, his presence like a shadow pressing against light. "I was watching."
"From the dark corners?" Riven's voice lowered, gaze still on the skyline. "Fitting."
Cassian reached forward and plucked the cigarette from Riven's fingers, taking a drag like it was his to steal. "You don't trust me."
Riven turned finally, eyes blazing. "Should I?"
There was silence. Dense. Hot.
Then Cassian smirked, a slow, infuriating thing. "You always did love illusions."
"And you always loved being one."
The tension snapped like a stretched wire. Cassian shoved Riven back against the glass wall, cigarette flicked away. Hands braced on either side of Riven's head.
"You think I'm hiding something?" Cassian whispered. "Say it."
"I don't think. I know." Riven's breath was sharp. "She was here. Nyra. I saw you talking."
Cassian's eyes darkened. "You were watching me?"
"Someone has to."
Cassian leaned in, mouth brushing Riven's ear. "She offered me power."
"And did you take it?" Riven shoved him back. "Or did you trade me for it?"
Cassian didn't move. "You'd know if I had."
Their eyes locked. A storm of mistrust, longing, rage, and want swirled between them. And then Cassian grabbed Riven by the collar and kissed him—bruising, desperate, a kiss that was almost punishment.
Riven bit his lip when they broke apart, blood staining his teeth. "Still smoke and mirrors, Cassian."
Cassian whispered, "Then break the glass."
They collided again—lips, hands, fury. Clothes tugged loose. Backs hit walls. The city watched and did not blink.
This wasn't love. Not in that moment. This was control in the shape of a moan. This was trust tasted on skin, then burned away.
Cassian dragged Riven inside, their mouths never parting. "You want the truth?" he growled.
"Spill it," Riven hissed.
"I'd ruin everything for you. But I haven't. Yet."
That night, their bodies spoke the words they couldn't. Pleading. Possessing. Pleasuring and punishing.
And afterward, tangled in sheets and shadows, Riven whispered, "If you ever lie to me again…"
Cassian turned his head, eyes unreadable. "Then finish me."
A beat.
Then Riven, softly, "Don't tempt me."