Page 13 of Burn it Down

My voice cracks when I cry out, “You left me. I thought I meant nothing.”

His face contorts with something like anguish. “You’re the only thing that’s ever meant anything.”

His fingers press just slightly against the front of my panties, and I let out a sound that can only be described as half gasp, half moan.

“Don’t,” I whisper, breathless. “Riven.”

But part of me is lying because my core pulses for him. I want to feel his skin against mine.

He leans in, mouth brushing against my hairline, and I lean my hands on his shoulders. His voice is ragged, low, broken. “You have no idea how much I’m restraining myself right now.” He cups my pussy before groaning out the words, “Tell me you missed me, baby. Tell me you missed me the way I missed you.”

I whimper.

I should stop him.

I should hate him.

But all I feel is that I’m alive again. That Riven has always made me feel alive.

That he’s the one who never looked at me like I was property. Like I was fragile. He always treated me like I was equal and like I belonged with him.

Riven’s knuckles start to graze the inside of my thigh and I just as I think he’s going to push my panties to the side the door to the viewing room creaks open.

“Lakynn?” my mother calls out.

I go rigid.

Riven moves fast, stepping in front of me, shielding me from view.

Belinda gasps. “Oh my?—”

“Get out,” he snarls.

Neither of them moves.

“Riven,” I whisper, grabbing his arm. “Please don’t?—”

But he turns toward me, still blocking my body from their view. He cups my chin, and it doesn’t escape my attention that his knuckles are indeed scraped up. “Get dressed in whatever you came here in,” he says softly, almost like he’s breathing out the words. He’s capable of being so gentle, and I suspect that he saves that side of him just for me. That quickly his expression hardens and he snaps, “anything but that fucking dress.”

Belinda and my mother don’t listen, pushing their way in, but I’m hunched over, pulling on the zip-up hoodie and jeans I wore here. I don’t worry about my bra because there’s no time. I can tell that there’s little chance that this whole thing is going to get resolved peacefully.

My mother stumbles back as Riven storms toward them. Belinda nearly trips over the hem of her dress, heels skidding across the polished floor.

“I said get the fuck out,” Riven snaps, and my spine straightens because I’m suddenly aware of why everyone on this mountain is afraid of him.

He’s not yelling. It’s worse. His voice is low, deadly. Every word seems to be soaked in violence.

My mother recovers first. Her voice trembles, but her mouth twists in disdain. “This is why we arranged the marriage, Riven, and why we asked you to leave. Because of things like this. With your sister.”

Riven freezes.

It’s like she slapped him. His head tilts. Slowly. His jaw works as he processes the wordsisterlike it physically hurts to hear it out loud.

“We’re not related,” he says, voice cold enough to cut glass. “She is not my sister. She’s mine, but she is not my sister and no matter how many fucking times you say it, it will never be true.”

Belinda tries to backpedal toward the door. “I-I’m calling the police.”

“You won’t get them. They’re probably finding Lucas in his car,” Riven growls. “I’ve been in town since last night taking care of every motherfucker who even has the smallest hand in this whole thing. Dad though? And the fucker you were going to give her to? They’re last, and it’s going to fucking hurt.”

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