Page 29 of Moth to Her Flame

“And occasionally pranks the others by making the shower water ice cold,” another voice adds. A figure detaches from the shadows—distinctly feline in form but walking upright, covered in sleek fur so inky black it would be impossible to see him in the dark. His eyes are pure amber, pupils vertical slits that study me with unnerving intelligence.

“That was one time, Cypher,” Marina protests. “And only because someone who shall remain nameless used up all the hot water preening.”

The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. Their banter feels so… normal. Human, almost. Even if one of them has scales and the other looks as though a panther decided to evolve into a person.

“Your broadcasting equipment is being set up in the eastern chamber,” Cypher informs me, tail swishing lazily. “Volt insisted on handling the technical aspects himself. Something about not trusting ‘amateur hour’ with your gear.”

“This way.” Riven guides me down a corridor that branches off from the main hall. The crystal lighting continues here, supplemented by ornate lanterns that seem to be filled with glowing fungi. “Your room is just ahead.”

The chamber he leads me to takes my breath away. It’s smaller than the grand hall but no less impressive. More crystals illuminate the space, their light reflecting off smooth stone walls that have been polished to a soft sheen. A proper bed—not just a cot or sleeping bag—sits against one wall, piled with what appear to be handmade quilts in rich jewel tones. A wooden desk and chair occupy another corner, along with several empty bookshelves carved directly into the rock.

He escorts me into a connected room where my equipment is set up.

“The acoustics are perfect for broadcasting,” Riven explains, his antenna twitching slightly. “And there’s a natural heat vent that keeps it warm even in winter.”

Something about his nervousness, his obvious desire for me to approve, makes my chest tight. “It’s beautiful.” That’s no lie. It’s as though this space was designed just for me.

“You’ll be safe here.” His wings flex. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”

“Wait.” Grabbing his arm before he can leave, the contact sends familiar sparks racing through my body. His wings flare with golden light, and a small sound escapes him. “Stay? Just… until I fall asleep?”

For a moment, his expression is so nakedly hopeful it hurts. Then he schools his features into something more neutral. “I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be—”

“Proper?” The word comes out more sharply than intended. “I’m literally hiding in a mountain full of cryptids. I think we’re past proper.”

“All the more reason to maintain boundaries.” But his fingers intertwine with mine, betraying his reluctance to leave. “You need time to adjust. To feel secure in your own space.”

“Ooooh, boundaries.” Marina’s voice drifts in from the open doorway. “How honorable.”

“How unnecessary,” Cypher adds as he silently pads to her side. “Considering the mate bond—”

“That’s enough.” There’s steel in Riven’s tone despite his gentle grip on my hand. “Both of you, out.”

Their laughter echoes down the corridor as they retreat, but Riven’s expression remains serious. “They mean well.”

“They’re right though, aren’t they?” My thumb traces patterns on his palm, watching his wings brighten with each touch. “About the bond? That you need something from me?”

I’ve never been so bold before. Neither of us have directly addressed his needs, or defined them since the first and only time we discussed them directly. Still, I have my hypotheses, and all his friends have hinted that eventually he’ll need more than praise, holding hands, and hair braiding.

“What I need is for you to feel safe.” His free hand cups my cheek, the gesture achingly tender. “Everything else can wait.”

The warmth of his skin, the soft glow of his wings, the way his antenna quiver slightly at my proximity—it all combines into something that feels dangerously like affection.

“I do feel safe.” The admission comes easily. “With you.”

His breath catches, and for a moment it seems he might close the distance between us. Instead, he steps back, though his fingers linger against my skin. “Sleep well, Chelsea.”

“Riven.” His name escapes before logic can catch it. “Wait.”

He pauses in the doorway, wings catching crystal light in a way that makes them look like stained glass. The sight steals my breath—or maybe that’s just the weight of what I’m about to say.

“You’re right. About needing space. About boundaries.” I say as I draw a shaky breath, pulse thundering in my ears. “But I think… I think I’d like one kiss. Just one. To… know.”

His antennae flatten against his hair, and his whole body goes still. “To know what?”

“If I’m crazy.” A nervous laugh bubbles up. “Or if this feeling—this pull—is real.”

The silence stretches between us, filled with the distant sound of falling water and the quiet susurration of others talking in the great hall. Part of me screams this is insane—he’s not human, this isn’t normal, what am I thinking? But another part, growing stronger by the second, whispers that nothing has ever felt more right than this moment, this request, this male.

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