Jealousy is a slow fire—and Riven is burning.
The hallway was dimly lit, just enough for shadows to stretch long and ominous across the polished stone floor. Riven leaned against the wall, his fists clenched at his sides, trying to breathe through the molten ache in his chest.
He had seen them—Nyra's hand tracing a path down Cassian's arm, her lips too close to his ear, her laugh like broken glass in Riven's mind.
Cassian hadn't pushed her away fast enough.
When the door to their quarters finally creaked open, Riven didn't wait for an explanation. He was already moving.
"You let her touch you," Riven growled, voice low and rough as he grabbed Cassian by the front of his coat and slammed the door shut behind him. "You didn't stop her."
Cassian's eyes flared—not with guilt, but something darker. "You think I wanted her hands on me?"
"I think you didn't hate it enough," Riven snapped.
A breath passed between them, thick with the static of everything unsaid. The silence broke when Cassian surged forward, grabbing Riven by the waist and pressing him back into the wall with a thud.
"I only want you. But keep pushing me like this, and I'll make sure you never doubt it again."
Riven's breath caught as Cassian's mouth found his neck, a brutal kiss of teeth and heat. Jealousy had set the room aflame, and neither of them cared about the burn.
Clothes were tugged, mouths collided, and every motion was tangled in hunger too long denied. Their anger didn't cool—it ignited. Possessive touches turned into desperate worship, marking skin and claiming territory with every graze, every gasp.
When it was over, their bodies a tangle of sweat and defiance, Riven stared at the ceiling, chest still heaving.
"You're mine," Cassian whispered against his throat, lips brushing over bruises newly made. "Don't forget that."
Riven didn't answer. He didn't need to. His hand reached down, laced tightly with Cassian's, and held.