Chapter Fifteen
Riven's POV
I couldn't breathe.
It started in training.
One second, I was moving, blade in hand, sweat pouring down my back. The next, I dropped it.
My heart raced. My chest tightened. Everything blurred.
"Riven?" someone called.
I shoved them away.
"I'm fine," I growled.
But I wasn't.
I stormed out, fists clenched, blood boiling. I could feel him again Lior. Breathing slowly, calm. Probably smirking, somewhere far away. Like this bond was just some joke to him. Like I wasn't drowning in it.
I kicked over a table in the war room. Smashed my hand into the wall hard enough to split the skin.
"What the fuck did you do to me?" I whispered into the silence. "What did you turn me into?"
He wasn't even there. And I could still feel him.
Warmth in my chest when I thought about his hands.
Shame when I remembered how good it felt to give in.
Desperation when I knew I'd do it all over again.
I dropped to my knees.
And I cried.
Fists clenched. Shoulders shaking.
I cried because I hated him.
I cried because I didn't.
I cried because no matter how many times I tried to block him out… I missed him.
"I can't do this," I whispered. "I can't feel this. Not for him."
I curled into myself on the cold stone floor, fingers clawing at my own chest like I could rip the bond out. Like I could tear his name from my body.
I didn't even realize I was whispering it.
"Lior… please…"
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Lior's POV
The moment he said my name, I felt it.
Not through the bond. Not through magic.
Through my chest.
Like my heart had been yanked sideways. Like someone had cracked open my ribs and poured Riven's pain into me.
I stumbled against the wall, gripping it tight.
"What the fuck…"
I wasn't used to this. I wasn't used to feeling.
Especially not someone else's tears.
Especially not his.
I closed my eyes and let the bond pull. Let it tug me through shadows and space until I found him.
Kneeling. Broken. On the floor of the Bloodbound war room. Shaking like he was made of glass.
"Riven," I breathed.
His head snapped up.
His eyes were red. Not with power. With tears.
"Get out," he rasped.
I stepped forward. "You called me."
"I didn't mean to—fuck, get out!"
But I didn't move.
I just knelt in front of him, hands resting on my thighs. No smirk. No teasing. Just quiet.
"I felt you," I whispered. "All of it."
"Good," he snapped, trying to wipe his eyes. "Feel what it's like to be fucking ruined."
"I already do."
He looked up, confused.
"You're not the only one who changed," I said.
"I'm not yours," he whispered.
"I didn't ask for that."
"Then what do you want from me?" he asked, voice breaking again.
I didn't have an answer.
So I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his.
And for the first time, I didn't kiss him.
I just held him.