The night cracked like flint on steel.
Riven stood at the edge of the rooftop balcony, the city glittering below like a broken promise. The wind bit at his coat, but it wasn't the cold that set his skin alight—it was the memory of Cassian's laughter earlier that evening, echoing through the gala hall... shared with Valen.
He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But the velvet curtain had offered no resistance, just like the way Cassian had leaned into Valen's whisper.
It burned.
Behind him, the door creaked. The scent of rich cologne drifted in—a mix of spice and shadow.
"Jealousy doesn't suit you," Cassian murmured, stepping closer.
Riven didn't turn. "And betrayal doesn't suit you."
There was silence for a breath too long. Then the soft pad of shoes over stone. Cassian stood beside him now, close enough to touch, but the space between them might as well have been a chasm.
"You think I want Valen?"
"I know Valen wants you," Riven said coldly.
Cassian's fingers brushed his arm. "And I know you want to burn this entire city down to keep me."
Riven turned, finally, grabbing Cassian's wrist. "I've watched you lie with silk on your tongue. But tell me—was tonight one of them?"
Cassian's mouth curved, not into a smirk, but something far more dangerous. "Maybe."
The wind howled. And so did Riven's restraint.
He pulled Cassian forward, mouth capturing his in a kiss that wasn't gentle, wasn't careful—it was bruising, possessive, hungry. Cassian answered with teeth and fire, gasping as Riven pushed him back against the stone wall, the cold forgotten in the fever of contact.
Fingers tangled in fabric. Jackets fell. Breath hitched.
Riven pulled back just enough to speak against Cassian's lips. "Tell me you're mine."
Cassian's eyes were stormclouds now—dark, crashing. "Only if you make me believe it."
That was a challenge Riven met with his entire body.
They moved through shadows like dancers on a blade's edge, lips trailing over throats, fingers mapping familiar territory turned foreign by emotion. It wasn't just lust—it was territory. A reclamation. A fight not for pleasure, but for truth.
Cassian bit down on Riven's shoulder, marking him.
Riven groaned, low and hoarse. "Mine."
Cassian shuddered. "Then prove it."
---
Later, when the city's lights had dulled and both their breathing had settled into the silence of aftermath, Cassian spoke again—this time softer.
"Valen's not what you should worry about."
Riven's body tensed. "What does that mean?"
Cassian rolled onto his side, gaze unreadable in the dark. "He didn't come back for me. He came back for you."
Riven's heart slowed, then thudded harder.
"What?"
Cassian's hand grazed his chest. "You were the one who destroyed his first empire. He wants you broken. And he'll use me to do it."
Riven felt the chill return. But it wasn't from the wind.
It was from knowing this had only just begun.
And the fire between them? It wasn't just passion anymore.
It was war.