Chapter 29: On The Edge

Tears of sheer, human humiliation leaked from the corners of my eyes, rolling down my temples into my hair. I was trapped. I was listening to my own mouth spout the most filthy, submissive, degrading pleas, begging a man who had just sold me out to a council of warlords.

Riven’s golden eyes flared with absolute, victorious triumph.

He smiled. A dark, devastating grin that showed the sharp points of his fangs.

"Good girl," he growled.

He didn't make me wait another second. Riven crashed his mouth down onto mine, kissing me with a passionate, bruising violence that stole the very oxygen from my lungs. His tongue invaded my mouth, tasting of salt and dominance, sweeping over my teeth and tangling with my own in a ruthless, consuming rhythm.

At the exact same time, his hand moved between our bodies. He found my slick, swollen cunt and slipped a thick finger right past my entrance.

I whimpered uncontrollably into his mouth, the sound vibrating between our connected lips. He began to circle my clit, his thumb applying a firm, maddening pressure while his finger curled deep inside me, stroking the sensitive, ridged walls of my core.

My wolf was purring loudly, completely intoxicated by the reward. She had done it. She had forced me to beg, she had reduced my human pride to absolutely nothing, and now she was getting exactly what she craved.

‘Why?’ I sobbed internally, completely unable to stop the frantic bucking of my hips. ‘Why does the mate bond have to be so brutally strong? Why did it make me feel like I’d die if he stopped?’

It wasn't fair. It was a biological trap. A prison made of pleasure and instinct.

I was completely, utterly ready. My body was a melting puddle of submission. The slickness pooling between my thighs was making a wet, lewd sound against his moving fingers. I was jittering, my muscles winding so tight I felt like I was going to snap in half. I braced myself, digging my fingernails into the bedsheets, waiting for him to unbuckle his pants. Waiting for the Lycan King to finally drive that massive, heavy cock deep into my body and claim what he had spent the last twenty minutes torturing me for.

Suddenly, the kissing stopped. Then he pulled back.

Just like that.

The wet heat of his fingers vanished from between my legs. The heavy, suffocating weight of his chest lifted off me.

The cold air of the bedroom rushed over my flushed, soaking wet skin, sending a violent shock to my system. I blinked, the purple glow fading from my eyes as my human consciousness slammed back into the driver's seat.

Riven was standing up.

He was standing right next to the bed, looking down at me. The dark, feral hunger that had been consuming him just seconds ago was entirely gone. His golden eyes were calm. Unbothered.

He let out a soft, breathy scoff, adjusting the waistband of his leather pants.

"Put your clothes on," Riven said.

I froze.

The words didn't make sense. They sounded like a foreign language. I lay there, my legs still spread wide, my chest heaving, my cunt practically weeping for his touch. I just stared at him, my brain completely failing to process the command.

Put your clothes on.

Riven didn't wait for me to move. He casually reached down to the floor, picked up his heavy leather tunic, and pulled it back over his head. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pulling it back off his face with an easy, fluid motion, acting like he hadn't just spent the last half-hour systematically breaking my mind and body down into a puddle of desperate need.

Confusion washed over me, thick and disorienting.

But then, the confusion morphed. It mutated into the most profound, crushing wave of embarrassment I had ever experienced in my entire life.

It hit me so hard my stomach physically cramped. A hot, suffocating flush crawled up my neck, burning my cheeks, choking the breath right out of my throat. I was humiliated. Embarrassed to the absolute core of my fucked up soul.

I stayed exactly where I was, stuck in the middle of his massive bed in my own wetness and my pathetic arousal, watching the Lycan King calmly get dressed. I was completely speechless. I couldn't even form a syllable to ask him why.

Riven ignored my stunned silence. He walked casually around the foot of the bed, moving to the far side of the mattress.

He hopped onto the bed, sliding his massive legs under the heavy fur blankets. He leaned back against the headboard, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

"It's getting late," Riven said, his voice completely level, conversational. He didn't even look at me. He was staring up at the stone ceiling. "We have to get to bed. Tomorrow, we will get your fate sorted out. And we need to discuss exactly how you did what you did to my Vanguard guards at the court today."

He shifted his broad shoulders against the pillows, getting comfortable. Then, Riven reached down and pulled the thick sheets up over his chest. He closed his eyes.

"You can come cuddle if it's cold," he murmured, his voice already taking on the heavy, slow cadence of sleep. "My wolf is warm."

And then, he simply went still.

I was still sitting on the opposite edge of the mattress. My legs were finally numbly closing. My hands were trembling in my lap.

What in the actual fuck just happened?

The silence in the room was deafening. The only sound was the steady, even breathing of the man who had just destroyed me.

I couldn't believe how stupid I was. I couldn't believe I had let this happen again. I had believed him. I had let my wolf drag my pride through the dirt to beg for him, entirely convinced that his dark, possessive words meant he actually wanted me. And again, he had pulled the rug right out from under my feet. He had used the bond to force my submission, just to prove he could, and then discarded me like a boring toy the moment I broke.

He had showed me, with absolute clarity, exactly why I was a monumental fool to believe a single word that came out of his mouth.

I slowly turned my head to look at him.

He looked so comfortable. So relaxed. His breathing was deep and rhythmic. He looked like a man who had absolutely no idea what kind of psychological damage he had just inflicted.

I pressed my lips together. My chest ached with a pain so sharp and bitter it felt like broken glass in my lungs. The shame was a physical weight, pressing me down into the mattress. I didn't say a word. I didn't scream, and I didn't cry. Crying was for the weak, delusional girl who thought she had found a savior.

I silently slid off the edge of the bed. My legs felt like lead.

I grabbed my coarse wool tunic from where it had ridden up and violently yanked it down over my thighs. I found my boots on the floor and shoved my feet into them.

The heat of the arousal was completely gone now. It had been replaced by a freezing, calculated rage.

I looked at my leather rucksack. It was still sitting by the vanity, half-packed from earlier. The thick furs, the stolen bread, the baby clothes. It was all still there.

A single, crystal-clear thought pierced through the fog of my humiliation. It was the exact same thought I had an hour ago, right before Maren had knocked on my door and derailed my entire life.

Run.

I was going to go through with the plan. I wasn't going to wait for the morning to let him "sort out my fate." I wasn't going to sit here and let him analyze my power like a lab rat. And I was definitely not going to stick around to see what other sick, twisted power games he wanted to play with my body.

I looked back at the bed. The god of the world was asleep.

I was leaving this fortress. I was grabbing Mael from Maren's quarters, and I was vanishing into the Northern Wastes.

And I was doing it tonight.