We Fought Like Enemies But Touched Like Lovers

Chapter Eight

Riven's POV

His smirk.

That mouth.

Those fangs.

I hated all of it.

But when Lior stood there, smug and unbothered, blade still against his chest, something inside me snapped.

I shoved him harder into the support beam, pressing the blade closer until it nicked his skin.

"Go ahead," he breathed. "Cut me. See if it makes you feel better."

"Don't tempt me."

"I think I already did, Riven."

That was it.

I swung. He ducked.

Fast.

Too fast.

He caught my wrist and twisted. I rolled with it, dropping the blade and slamming him to the floor. But he moved like liquid shadow, reversing us mid-air until I landed on my back with a growl and his hips straddling mine.

"Fuck—get off," I snapped, but my hands gripped his thighs instead of pushing.

"I could," he said, voice low, lips just inches from mine, "but we both know you don't really want that."

I flipped him off me and pinned him to the ground this time—legs tangled, bodies pressed too close, too tight. He grunted beneath me, and gods help me, that sound went straight to my dick.

"You're dangerous," I hissed. "And you're under my blade now."

"I'm under you," he whispered, lifting his hips just slightly. "And you love it."

He wasn't wrong.

And that pissed me off even more.

But before I could snarl something back, a shriek tore through the warehouse.

Something else was here.

Both of us went still.

Then—

A body dropped from the rafters, blood trailing in the air.

The rogue.

It crawled out of the shadows, its eyes glowing red, mouth wide open and soaked in blood. It hissed, dragging long nails across the floor, twitching with bloodlust and madness.

We moved in sync.

Lior rolled off me, grabbing his twin blades. I grabbed mine. We didn't speak. Just moved. Like we'd done this before. Like we were trained to do it together.

The rogue leapt at me first. Lior intercepted mid-air, slicing its leg clean open. I spun in, ducked, and stabbed straight through its shoulder. It screamed, black blood spraying across the wall.

"You always this messy?" I yelled.

"You always this slow?" he shouted back with a wicked grin.

We danced around the creature, cutting, dodging, punishing it from both sides. For a second, I forgot the curse, forgot the tension. It was just us—fighting like gods. Moving like one.

Finally, Lior struck a blow to the chest. I followed it up with a slice to the neck.

The rogue collapsed—twitching. Dying.

We stood over the body, panting, covered in blood. Not ours.

I turned to him. "We shouldn't work well together."

He licked blood from his bottom lip. "And yet... here we are."

My chest heaved, body still humming. Not from the fight. From him.

He stepped close. "Tell me you didn't love that."

"I hate you."

He grinned. "Then hate me harder next time."

I should've walked away.

Instead, I let him reach up and touch my jaw.

"Next time, Riven," he whispered, "you won't be able to stop yourself."