The gala at the Crimson House shimmered with opulence. Crystal chandeliers bathed the marble hall in golden light, the scent of roses laced with rare spices curling through the air. Cloaked in silk and power, the guests moved like shadows—nobles, moguls, and masked enemies cloaked in civility.
Cassian stood near the towering windows, clad in obsidian silk with crimson embroidery crawling up his sleeves like fire licking his skin. A golden half-mask shadowed one eye, but Riven knew that look too well—the guarded expression of a man playing a dangerous game.
Riven, entering in a dark garnet suit that hugged him in all the right ways, drew every eye. But his gaze locked only on Cassian.
Their connection was magnetic. Dangerous. Still raw from the night before.
Nyra was here.
She slinked toward Cassian like perfume—clad in a backless black dress that shimmered like oil. Her smile was all fangs behind painted lips. She touched Cassian's arm, too intimately. Riven's blood turned to flame.
Jealousy hit like a punch to the ribs.
He approached slowly. The air crackled between the three of them. Cassian's eyes flicked to Riven, unreadable. Nyra didn't flinch. In fact, her smirk deepened.
"Riven," she purred, "You clean up well. For someone who's used to the shadows."
"I thrive in them," Riven said coolly. "They hide knives better than ballrooms do."
Her eyes gleamed.
Cassian intervened, his voice low, sharp. "Both of you. Not here."
But the tension had already lit the fuse.
Later that night...
Cassian dragged Riven into an empty room. Door slammed. Moonlight sliced through the velvet curtains, casting shadows on their faces.
"You said you trusted me," Cassian growled, crowding Riven against the wall.
"And you flirt with your past like she's your future," Riven shot back, breath catching.
Cassian's hands slammed beside Riven's head. "Is that what you think?"
"You let her touch you," Riven hissed.
"And you lose your mind when I do?"
Cassian kissed him—hard. Brutal. Possessive. Teeth scraped lips. Tongues fought for dominance. There was no gentleness, only raw emotion and jealousy spun into heat.
Clothes came off in torn, furious motions. Buttons scattered across marble.
Cassian lifted him onto a table—cold against Riven's bare skin. He gasped. Cassian's mouth followed the lines of his body with bruising intensity. Every bite a claim. Every lick a warning.
It was rough. Desperate. A clash of lovers turned rivals.
Cassian's fingers tangled in Riven's hair as he pressed their bodies close, chests heaving, their skin slick with heat. Words spilled between kisses—angry, aching confessions.
"You're mine," Cassian growled into his neck.
"Then act like it," Riven snapped, gasping when Cassian bit down.
They broke apart only when both were shaking—sated but not healed.
Cassian rested his forehead against Riven's, eyes closed.
"I'm trying," he whispered.
Riven didn't answer. But his hands—tight in Cassian's shirt—said he wasn't letting go.
Outside that door, betrayal brewed. Someone had seen them disappear. And the price of that intimacy would be blood.