3

The fire was dying down. Embers floated in the air like tiny spirits rising to the heavens.

The howls of the pack faded into the background, laughter drifting like mist, drums beating softer now—a heartbeat slowing into silence.

Riven stood near the edge of the great ring, his body still humming from the dance. Sweat clung to the curve of his neck, his robe damp against his skin, the silver threads still catching the light like falling stars.

Kaelen didn’t ask.

He just stepped behind Riven, wrapping one arm around his waist, palm flat over his belly, pulling him back into the hard press of his body. His voice was low, barely a growl, but Riven heard it clear as breath against his ear.

“Come with me.”

Riven turned, silent.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

The way he placed his hand into Kaelen’s, the way his eyes glimmered like moonlight over dark water—that was answer enough.

They left the ring quietly, slipping through the narrow forest path toward the alpha’s quarters. No one followed. No one dared.

The air was cooler beneath the trees. Dew sparkled on leaves, and night birds sang as they passed. Kaelen kept his hand on Riven’s lower back, thumb brushing skin where the robe had slipped open slightly. He didn’t say a word.

Not until they reached the door.

He opened it with a push and guided Riven inside.

The space was wide, lit only by a handful of flickering candles. A fur rug covered the floor, and thick blankets lay neatly on the bed of furs near the hearth. It smelled of pinewood and leather and something darker—something like Kaelen himself.

Riven didn’t move at first.

He stood in the doorway, letting the candlelight paint shadows across his skin. His robe slipped off one shoulder, revealing a long stretch of collarbone and a single mole just beneath his neck. His lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.

Kaelen shut the door.

Then turned to him.

“You were born to dance like that,” he murmured, voice thick, low with restraint.

Riven lifted one brow, the ghost of a smirk touching his lips. “Were you watching closely?”

Kaelen crossed the distance between them in two strides.

“I was burning.”

And then he kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. His hand gripped the back of Riven’s neck, tilting his head up as his mouth claimed him—open, wet, deep. Riven gasped into it, but didn’t pull away. His fingers curled into Kaelen’s chest, nails catching the rough fabric of his cloak.

Kaelen pulled the robe loose, the crimson silk whispering down Riven’s arms, pooling at his feet. Beneath it, Riven wore nothing but a moon-threaded sash wrapped around his waist, holding a sheer cloth against his hips.

Kaelen stepped back, just to look.

“You’re not soft,” he said, breath catching. “Not like they think.”

“No,” Riven agreed, steady. “But I am yours.”

The words snapped something in Kaelen.

He grabbed Riven again, lifting him up with ease—one hand beneath his thighs, the other around his back—and carried him to the bed. Riven didn’t resist. His arms wrapped around Kaelen’s shoulders, breath brushing the curve of his ear.

Kaelen laid him down slowly, reverently.

Then tore off his own cloak.

His chest was bare, smeared with dried blood and ash, muscles carved from years of war. He undid the bindings around his waist, the black leather falling away until his body was bared to the firelight.

Riven reached up, tracing the long scar down Kaelen’s abdomen.

“You brought back blood,” he whispered.

Kaelen caught his wrist. “And tonight, I want to give you fire.”

He leaned down, his mouth closing over Riven’s collarbone, biting softly, then licking the sting away. His hands roamed slowly—over Riven’s stomach, his thighs, his sides—feeling every breath, every twitch, every shiver.

Riven arched beneath him, legs parting as Kaelen moved between them.

“You want this?” Kaelen growled against his skin, voice barely human.

“Yes,” Riven whispered, eyes gleaming. “I want everything.”

Kaelen pressed in.

Hot. Heavy. Slow.

Riven cried out, head tipping back, fingers clawing at the furs. Kaelen held him steady, one hand on his hip, the other pressed to the mattress. He moved inch by inch, allowing Riven to stretch, to open, to feel every part of it.

When he was fully inside, Kaelen stilled.

Their eyes met.

And then he began to move.

Slow at first, dragging every thrust like a tide pulling out to sea—then faster, deeper, until the bed creaked beneath them and Riven was gasping, legs wrapped tight around Kaelen’s waist.

He kissed Riven again, swallowing his moans, biting down on his lower lip when the rhythm grew rougher. Riven took it all. Welcomed it. Matched it with soft cries and arched hips and eyes that never stopped looking into his.

The moment built.

Their bodies locked.

Kaelen groaned, low and guttural, when Riven tightened around him—hot and wet and unrelenting.

Then it came—sharp, overwhelming, the heat spilling between them as Kaelen buried himself deep and held still, trembling with release. Riven followed a moment later, shuddering beneath him, his own breathless cry echoing through the room.

When it was over, Kaelen didn’t pull away.

He rolled to the side, taking Riven with him, their bodies still tangled.

For a long time, they lay there—only the sound of the fire crackling and their ragged breathing filling the silence.

Riven rested his head against Kaelen’s chest, fingers lazily tracing circles over his skin.

“Did the spirits see?” he asked softly.

Kaelen pressed a kiss to his forehead. “They saw.”

Riven smiled. “Then we are truly mated now.”

Kaelen’s arms tightened around him, voice hoarse. “You’ve always been mine. Tonight only made it eternal.”

Outside, the moon watched silently through the high window.

And within, the Alpha held his mate close, claiming not just his body—but his soul.

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