Riven woke up slowly, blinking against the sunlight peeking through the heavy curtains. The sheets were warm, soft, and smelled faintly of Soren—frosty clean like winter and pine needles—but the bed was… Empty.
Again.
He frowned, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, come on," he muttered, throwing an arm over his face. "Why does everyone always leave me first thing in the morning?"
He pouted for a moment, letting the quiet of the room settle in.
This wasn't the first time, either. Ronan used to do the same thing—disappear at dawn, saying something vague like "important clan matters".
And now Soren too? Riven was starting to feel like he was cursed to wake up alone forever.
Still, he supposed he couldn't be too mad. Soren had told him he had things to handle today. And knowing Soren, those "things" probably involved violence, intimidation, and possibly burying a body. All for Riven's sake, of course. Romantic, in a twisted way.
