Chapter 7: Firelight Confessions
780 Words
The fire had burned low, its embers glowing a soft orange against the stone. The warmth it gave off was gentle now, casting long shadows along the cave walls. Outside, the wind howled faintly through the trees, but inside, the world had quieted to just the sound of breath, flickering flames, and the unspoken tension lingering between them.
Riven had leaned back, his wound now bandaged, arms folded loosely across his chest. Luna sat across from him, legs curled under her, hair damp and clinging to her temples, her eyes never straying far from his.
“You’re not like most Alphas I’ve met,” she said after a long stretch of silence.
Riven huffed softly. “Is that your way of saying I’m disappointing?”
Luna smirked. “It’s my way of saying you’re not arrogant, territorial, or constantly trying to prove your strength.”
He tilted his head. “You’ve met the wrong kind of Alphas.”
“I’ve met enough,” she murmured, her smile fading. “They only want what you can give them. Power. Alliance. Obedience.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then, “Is that what Kaelen wanted from you?”
Luna didn’t answer right away. Her eyes dropped to the fire, lashes trembling.
“I don’t know anymore,” she said. “I thought what we had was real. But when my scent was taken from me… he stopped seeing me. All he followed was the bond. Or what he thought was the bond.”
Riven’s voice was low. “So he didn’t fight for you.”
“No,” she whispered, “he didn’t.”
Another silence followed, but this one wasn’t empty—it was full of grief, reflection, and the beginnings of trust.
“You asked me earlier why I helped you,” Riven said, voice quieter now. “Truth is, I’ve seen what happens to women like you. Strong ones. The pack tries to crush them when they don't submit. I couldn't stand by and let them do it again.”
Because in the glow of dying embers, something unspoken passed between them—something tender, something dangerous. A flicker of a bond that had nothing to do with scent or fate.
Just choice.
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The cave was quiet save for the crackle of dying embers. Luna stirred awake, drawn by the restless sound of Riven’s breathing. She turned toward him, her eyes widening.
His face was pale, drenched in sweat, his body twitching with tremors. His breath came shallow and uneven. Fever.
“Riven,” she whispered, crawling to his side. “Hey—wake up.”
He didn’t respond, only murmured incoherently and turned his face away.
Luna touched his forehead. He was burning.
Panic fluttered in her chest. They’d fought, run, bled. And now his body was paying the price.
“You i***t,” she muttered, brushing soaked hair from his brow. “You should’ve told me you were getting worse.”
She quickly stripped off his damp shirt, tossing it aside, her fingers shaking. “You need water. I’ll be right back.”
Luna sprinted barefoot through the forest, heart pounding, until she found a shallow spring. She filled a flask, her hands trembling, and hurried back.
“Riven,” she said, kneeling beside him, “you have to drink.”
But he didn’t move.
Her eyes darted across his face—skin clammy, lips dry. He needed water. Now.
Without hesitation, she took a mouthful from the flask, leaned down, and pressed her lips against his. Her tongue parted his lips gently, coaxing the water between his teeth. She cupped his jaw as he swallowed instinctively, slowly responding.
It wasn’t a kiss—but something about it made her heart stutter.
She sat back, breathless, watching him.
He quieted—but the tremors didn’t stop. His body shivered violently, and the chill of the cave clung to his fevered skin.
“Damn it,” she whispered. “You’re freezing.”
Luna looked at the blanket. Too thin. Not enough.
She hesitated only a second before making her choice.
Hands shaking, she slipped off her shirt, then her trousers, leaving herself in her undergarments. Carefully, she crawled under the blanket and wrapped her arms and legs around Riven’s trembling body.
His skin was ice against hers, but she held him tighter, pressing his head to her chest, whispering softly against his hair.
“Don’t die on me, Riven. Don’t you dare.”
She felt the slow rise and fall of his chest against her own.
She didn’t know what they were yet. Allies. Survivors. Something more.
But she knew this:
She wasn’t letting him go.
- Writer
