Episode 5
1222 Words
The ride back to Riven’s house was quieter than the ride out.
Isla’s arms were still locked around his waist, but she wasn’t clinging out of fear anymore. She was holding on because she didn’t want to let go. The Harley’s vibration thrummed through her chest, steady and grounding, like Riven’s heartbeat against her palms.
Red Hollow passed in a blur of shuttered shops and cracked sidewalks. The town looked smaller now. Less threatening. Like it didn’t have teeth now that Riven had pulled them out of Marcus’s mouth.
When they pulled into the side yard, Riven killed the engine. For a second, neither of them moved.
“You okay?” he asked, without turning.
“Yeah,” Isla said. And she meant it.
“Good.”
He swung off first, then reached for her. Isla slid into his hands before she thought about it. Her feet hit the ground and she was still holding his forearms, looking up at him.
Up close, he looked tired. The split on his knuckles had started to scab. There was a smear of blood on his jaw she didn’t remember seeing before.
“Your hand,” she said, reaching for it without asking.
Riven let her take it. His fingers were warm, rough. She turned his palm up, studying the split skin across his knuckles.
“You didn’t have to hit him,” she said softly.
“Yes, I did.” Riven’s voice was rough. “You don’t get it, Isla. Men like Marcus don’t hear words. They hear fists.”
Isla nodded. She didn’t like it. But she understood it.
She reached up with her free hand and brushed her thumb over the smear of blood on his jaw. Riven went still.
“May I?” she whispered, echoing him.
Riven’s eyes darkened. “Yeah. You can.”
She wiped the blood away with the pad of her thumb. His skin was hot under her touch. When she pulled her hand back, he caught her wrist.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t touch me like that unless you mean it.”
Isla’s breath hitched. “And if I do mean it?”
Riven didn’t answer. He just stared at her mouth, like he was fighting himself. The cut on her lip had scabbed over. Her hair was a mess from the ride. She was wearing the same shirt from yesterday, and she’d never felt more bare.
“Inside,” he said finally. His voice was strained. “Before I do something stupid.”
He let go of her wrist and turned toward the house. Isla followed, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.
---
The house felt different with the morning light coming through the windows. Less like a stranger’s place, more like somewhere she could breathe.
Riven went straight to the kitchen sink and ran his hands under the water. Isla watched him wash the blood off, watched the way the muscles in his back shifted under his shirt.
“You should clean that up,” she said.
“It’ll heal.” He grabbed a towel, dried his hands. “You hungry?”
“I’m not—”
“Yeah, you are.” He opened the fridge. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Isla didn’t argue. She sat at the counter while he moved around the kitchen like he owned it. Which, she supposed, he did.
He made eggs. Scrambled, simple. Toast. Poured her more coffee. Set the plate in front of her like it was nothing.
“Eat,” he said.
“You’re not eating?”
“I ate earlier.” He leaned against the counter, watching her. “Eat, Isla.”
So she did. The eggs were good. Warm. Normal. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the first bite hit her tongue.
Riven didn’t take his eyes off her while she ate. Not in a creepy way. In a way that made her feel… seen. Like she mattered.
When she finished, he took her plate, rinsed it, set it in the sink.
“Come here,” he said.
Isla slid off the stool. She stopped in front of him, close enough that she could smell soap and leather and something uniquely him.
Riven lifted his hand, slow, giving her time to pull back. When she didn’t, he cupped her face. His palm was warm, calloused.
“Last night, when you hit my bike,” he said quietly, “I was pissed. I thought you were gonna run. I thought you were gonna lie. I thought you were gonna be like everyone else.”
“I’m not,” Isla whispered.
“I know.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone. “That’s the problem.”
Isla frowned. “What’s the problem?”
“You’re not scared of me. You’re not running. You’re looking at me like I’m a man, not a monster.” His voice dropped. “And I don’t know what to do with that.”
Isla’s chest ached. “Maybe you don’t have to do anything.”
Riven’s eyes flicked to her mouth again. His breathing changed, got heavier.
“Isla,” he said, and it sounded like a warning.
“Yeah?”
“If I kiss you, I’m not gonna be gentle.”
Isla’s lips parted. Her heart was hammering so loud she was sure he could hear it.
“Okay,” she said.
Riven closed the distance between them like he’d been holding himself back for hours. His hand slid from her face to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. He didn’t ask this time. He didn’t need to.
His mouth met hers, hard and hot and desperate.
Isla gasped into the kiss. Riven swallowed the sound, his other hand coming up to grip her hip, pulling her flush against him. He tasted like coffee and something darker, something dangerous.
It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow. It was claiming.
His tongue brushed hers and Isla moaned. Riven groaned low in his throat, like he’d been waiting for that sound. His grip tightened in her hair, tilting her head back so he could deepen the kiss.
Isla’s hands came up, fisting in his shirt. She could feel his heart racing under her palms, matching hers beat for beat.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
Riven rested his forehead against hers. “f**k, Isla.”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
His hands were still on her, like he couldn’t let go. Like if he did, she’d disappear.
“I’m not good at this,” he said, voice rough. “I’m not good at soft. I’m not good at…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“You don’t have to be,” Isla said. “Just be you.”
Riven looked at her then, really looked at her. And something in his face cracked. Not broke. Cracked, like ice under pressure.
“Stay,” he said. Not a command. A request. “Stay with me, Isla.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she admitted.
“Good.” He kissed her again, softer this time. Slower. Like he was memorizing her. “Then you’re home.”
Isla closed her eyes. And for the first time in months, she believed it.
- Writer
