The pack whooped as the drums picked up, their laughter ringing through the night. Someone shoved me forward straight into Riven's chest.
His hands caught my hips, steadying me. For a heartbeat, we were frozen, his breath warm against my lips, his scent—snow and steel and something dark wrapping around me like a spell.
Then the music changed.
Something slow. Something dangerous.
"Dance with me," I whispered.
Riven's jaw tightened. "I don't dance."
"Liar," Lucian called from the sidelines. "I've seen him waltz with a dagger in hand."
Jax howled with laughter.
Riven's eyes never left mine. "One dance."
His hands were everywhere.
One at the small of my back, pressing me closer. The other tangled in my hair, tilting my head up. The world narrowed to the space between our lips—to the breath we shared, to the way his heart pounded against mine.
"Riven," I breathed.
His thumb brushed my bottom lip. "Elara."
Someone wolf-whistled.
We sprang apart.
