The world came back to me in pieces. The first was the scent—musky, sweet, and uniquely Riven, clinging to my skin and the rumpled sheets. The second was the solid, warm weight of his arm draped possessively over my waist, his breathing deep and even against my back. The third was the slow, throbbing ache between my legs, a pleasant reminder of the frantic, passionate hours we'd just shared.
My mind, still hazy with the afterglow, drifted. It had been intense, almost desperate. As if he were trying to brand himself onto my very soul. I'd chalked it up to the stress of the recent border skirmishes, the constant pressure of being the future Alpha. But now, in the quiet stillness, a sliver of unease threaded its way through my contentment.
