The taste of last night still lingered on Cassian's skin—salt and silk, bruises from Riven's mouth blooming like crushed violets down his neck. But this morning, the cold had returned.
Riven stood by the window, shirtless, a glass of dark red wine in his hand—though it was barely past dawn. His back was rigid, the long scars down his spine catching the pale light.
"You're not drinking," he said without turning.
Cassian, still sprawled across tangled sheets, watched the curve of Riven's shoulders. "Not yet. Too early to poison myself."
Riven's laugh was bitter. "But not too early to lie."
Cassian flinched.
"I didn't lie."
"You saw your brother. You said nothing for three nights."
Cassian rose, the sheet pooling around his waist. "Because I wasn't sure. I thought he was dead. I—"
Riven turned then, eyes dark, wild with the kind of fury that came from heartbreak, not hatred.
"I gave you everything. My bed, my crown—my trust. And you choke me with silence?"
Cassian walked toward him slowly. Naked, vulnerable, but unyielding.
"You're not the only one with ghosts."
He touched Riven's chest—barely a brush—and the storm cracked open.
Their mouths crashed together in a kiss more violent than tender. Riven grabbed Cassian's wrists and slammed him against the glass, pressing their bodies tight.
"You want me to believe you?" he rasped. "Then show me."
Cassian's eyes burned. "Fine."
And he dropped to his knees.
Riven gasped as Cassian undid his pants with trembling hands. The moment he took him into his mouth, everything else vanished—guilt, rage, grief. It was worship, surrender, punishment—all in one.
Cassian's mouth moved in slick, torturous rhythm, tongue teasing, lips sliding with heat and purpose. Riven's head tipped back, groaning low as he tangled fingers in Cassian's hair and thrust deeper.
"Gods, Cassian—" he choked, hips stuttering.
But Cassian didn't stop. He devoured him like he was starving, moaning around him, swallowing every drop of anger and lust until Riven came undone, hips jerking, voice shattered.
After, Riven dragged him up by the jaw and kissed him—filthy, possessive.
"You're mine," he growled. "Even if your past claws at us, you're mine."
Cassian bit his lip, the copper of blood mixing with the wine still on Riven's breath. "Then keep me."
But the moment cracked as a knock sounded at the chamber door.
A message was slipped under.
Riven opened it with a frown… and froze.
Cassian watched the blood drain from his face.
"What is it?" he whispered.
Riven turned the letter in his hand. There was a name signed in crimson ink.
Valen.
Cassian's brother.
And beneath the name, a seal they both recognized—embossed in velvet-black wax.
The House of Ruin.