Each will fall.
Each will feed the fire inside her.
And when the trumpet calls she will not run. She will answer.
The room vibrates and the mirrors fracture. Just hairline cracks, but they spread, spidering out like veins of warning. I stagger back. “What the fuck…”
“It’s you,” Riven says, voice low. “Italways has been.”
No mask now. No mystery. Just a man who knew this truth would ruin me and brought me here anyway. “Why me?” He steps closer.
“Because the world doesn’t need a savior,” he says. “It needs a reckoning.”
When his gaze finds me, I realize he no longer sees a girl. He sees the end. The moment I look toward him I feel it. Something inside me uncoils, not like a snake waking up. Like a blade being unsheathed. The mirrors groan again. Low. Deep. Like thunder rolling through stone. The cracks widen behind me, and I swear I see eyes in one of them.
Watching. Waiting. I don’t look away. Not this time.
I step closer to Riven, barefoot on the cold stone floor, body humming with fire and fear, and whatever the fuck Elias woke up in my head. “Is this what you wanted?” I ask. He doesn’t answer. He just watches me like I’ve already caught fire. Like I am the fire. I press my palm flat to his chest, “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“That you knew. That you’ve always known who I was. What I am.” His jaw tenses. “I didn’t want to believe it.” I drag my hand lower.
“Then believe it now.” He exhales like he’s trying not to burn.
“You’re not just waking up,” he says. “You’re feeding it. Every time you touch me, every time you take what you want, you’re giving it shape.”
“Good,” I whisper. “Let it take shape.” The silence between us snaps. He grabs me hard, hands on my hips, slamming me into him, not to hurt, but to own. “I could break you,” he says into my throat, voice gravely.
“You could try.”
He grabs me, slams me back against the cold edge of the pedestal. The book is still open beside us, prophecy breathing like a beast that just woke up. His hands bite into my thighs, and he leans in close, voice a weapon at my ear. “You want power?”
“Yes.”
“You want to play with fire?”
I smirk. “I want to burn.”
His mouth brushes my neck. “Then let me feed the fire.” I grab him by the throat and kiss him like the answer is carved in blood. He tastes like violence and prophecy and every bad decision I want to make twice. His hands tighten on my hips like he wants to slam me into the wall and fuck the life out of me, but I don’t let him. I twist. Push. Force him back. “Sit,” I growl. His brow lifts, that slow smile curving like a blade.
“You’re giving orders now?”
“No,” I whisper, climbing into his lap as he stumbles back into the throne-like stone chair behind the altar. “I’m taking what’s mine.”
He doesn’t fight me when I fully straddle him or when I reach between us and drag his belt open and through the loops with one sharp pull. Not even when I shove his pants low enough to free his cock, already thick and hard and flushed deep. “I could snap your neck,” he murmurs. I grind against him, slow and deliberate. My bare cunt sliding along the length of him like a threat.
“Then do it.” His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t move.
He’s not in charge anymore.
I grip the base of his cock, lift just enough, and sink down onto him with one smooth motion that makes my entire body scream. He groans…deep, raw, punched out of him like I just knocked the breath from his lungs “Fuck.” I smile. Because I feel the stretch, the thickness, and the power. The tremble in his control. The way he holds the arms of the throne like he’s trying not to break them.
“Lux…”
“Shut up,” I whisper, grinding my hips in a slow, punishing circle. “You said you wanted me to wake up. You didn’t say what I’d do once I did.” His hands come up to my waist, fingers digging in like he’s trying to anchor himself. I ride him slowly. Deep. Just enough to tease the edge of madness without tipping it. “I’ve fucked you,” I pant, rocking harder now. “I’ve let you take me. Ruin me. Burn me. You’ve never seen what I look like when I take.” He groans again, this time sharply. Like he hates how much he loves this. I bounce faster, thighs tightening around him, his cock sliding deeper, hitting places that make me want to scream. I don’t. Not yet. I hold it. I make him wait.
“You like watching?” I ask, hand curling around the back of his neck as I fuck myself down onto him. “Then watch me.” His eyes are fucking feral now, pupils blown, lips parted, breath ragged. He tries to take control. Tries to slam his hips up into me. I pin his chest with one hand and push him back down. “No,” I hiss. “You don’t get to lead this dance.”
