Riven awoke to the scent of sex, sweat, and Cassian's possessive heat wrapped around him like a velvet noose. The sheets clung to their naked bodies, damp and twisted. Cassian slept beside him, arm thrown over Riven's waist in a silent claim. But peace was never theirs for long.
The intercom buzzed. Once. Twice.
Cassian stirred with a grunt. "Ignore it."
But Riven already knew. He felt it in his spine, in the sudden chill crawling under his skin.
He slipped out of bed, pulling on the discarded dress shirt—Cassian's—his fingers trembling as he approached the console.
"Sir," the security guard's voice cracked through. "There's a man downstairs… He says his name is Silas. He knows Riven."
Cassian was upright in an instant. Naked. Angry. "What the hell did you just say?"
Riven's breath hitched. The name shattered through him like glass.
Silas.
The lover who'd once owned Riven's body like a weapon. The one who knew every scream, every weakness—because he'd crafted them. The man Cassian didn't even know existed.
Riven turned slowly, eyes locked with Cassian's. "He's not supposed to be here."
Cassian rose, grabbing his pants, muscles flexing with controlled rage. "Who is he?"
"My past."
"And now he's mine," Cassian said coldly.
---
They met Silas in the marble lobby, where glass, steel, and tension reflected from every surface. Silas wore tailored sin—black slacks, a blood-red shirt open just enough to hint at the ink coiled around his throat. He looked at Riven like he was still his to break.
Cassian stepped between them instantly.
"You have five seconds to state your reason before I ruin your jaw."
Silas smiled—slow, cruel, intimate. "I just came to say hello. You must be the new addiction. But I'm the original sin."
Cassian's fist twitched.
Riven's voice cracked between them. "Silas, leave."
But Silas didn't. His gaze slid down Riven's frame, noting the shirt. Cassian's. The bruises. His.
"Still so easy to mark," Silas whispered.
Cassian lunged.
Only Riven's hand on his chest stopped the violence.
"Not here," Riven said quietly. "That's what he wants."
Silas's smile deepened. "You've learned to control him. How charming. But tell me, love, when he touches you—does he know you still moan my name in your sleep?"
Riven flinched.
Cassian saw red.
---
That night, the air in the penthouse was thick, sharp with anger and need. Cassian pushed Riven against the wall, his body trembling with fury.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he doesn't matter."
"Bullshit."
Riven's voice cracked. "Because I didn't want you to look at me like I'm broken."
Cassian grabbed his wrists, lifted them over his head, and pressed their bodies flush. "You are broken. But you're mine. And I want every shattered piece."
His mouth crashed down in a savage kiss, tongue demanding submission. But Riven gave nothing easily. He fought. Bit. Clawed.
Cassian dragged him to the bedroom, threw him onto the bed, and ripped the shirt open—buttons flying. He wanted to erase every touch Silas ever left.
Tonight wasn't about tenderness.
It was about claiming.
He tied Riven's wrists above his head with his belt, eyes dark and burning. "Say it."
Riven gasped, legs spread, breath catching as Cassian's mouth trailed lower. "Say what?"
"Say who owns you now."
Riven arched, panting. "You."
Cassian's fingers slid between his thighs, teasing, punishing. "Louder."
"You, Cassian—fuck—it's always been you!"
Cassian smirked. "That's better."
And then he devoured him—slow, merciless, until Riven was undone and rebuilt in Cassian's image.
---
Later, Riven lay tangled in leather and sweat-soaked sheets, Cassian curled around him like a shield. The storm had returned.
Outside. And within.
And Silas... had only just begun.