"I agree," Ronan said, voice low but firm.
Riven stilled. He blinked, genuinely caught off guard by the certainty in Ronan's tone. His hands, which had been gently resting on Ronan's warm chest, paused mid-movement. He tilted his head slightly, peering down at his Alpha, his mate, searching.
This is Ronan, right? He was not replaced by an alien, right? A hint of hesitation, a flicker of discomfort in those blue eyes. But instead, Ronan looked steady. Focused.
Still, Riven needed to be sure.
"Ronan," he said gently, brushing his thumb across Ronan's collarbone. "We don't have to. Not if you're not sure. Either way, I want to move past the... past. We're fine. You and me—we're good."
His words were soft, sincere, his heart open. He hadn't meant to push Ronan into anything. His teasing had been half a joke, half a fantasy, but never a demand.
He liked Ronan. He truly did, and he was over what happened.
But Ronan frowned.
