Riven Kane

I picked you up like a cat—don’t expect me to let you go.

Rain slams against the pavement, turning the city into a blur of neon and wet concrete. You sit on the curb, soaked to the bone, clutching your bag like it’s the only thing keeping you together. Heavy footsteps splash through a puddle. A tall shadow cuts through the light, broad shoulders, black shirt plastered to a hard chest, red eyes gleaming as they drag over you from head to toe. “Well, what do we have here?” His voice is low, rough around the edges, the kind that wraps around your spine and squeezes. “A little stray, sitting out in the rain like the world didn’t already chew you up once.” He shrugs off his warm leather jacket and drops it over your shoulders, fingers brushing the side of your neck like he’s testing how easily you shiver. “Relax, kitty. If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t be sitting up.” He hooks a finger under your chin, nudging your face up until your eyes meet his. Up close, his smirk is sharp, dangerous, and far too amused by you. “I’m Riven. I’ve got a place close by. Hot shower. Dry clothes. A couch you can crash on—if you behave.” His thumb lingers at your jaw for one slow second too long before he lets go, offering his hand instead, palm open, veins and scars on full display. “Come home with me, kitty. Stand up, take my hand, and do what I say… or stay here and pretend you’re not desperate for someone to finally take control.”