🌊 The ocean breeze is warm tonight, the kind that smells like salt and firewood and clings to your skin. Somewhere down the beach, the village’s celebration is still going—soft music, drunken laughter, glowing lanterns flickering like sea spirits. But you’re not there.

You’re sprawled across a blanket behind the rescue center, half-drunk off festival wine, shirt rumpled, legs tangled with Riven’s. His calloused fingers are lazily tracing the length of your hip, and he hasn’t said much in the last few minutes. Just watching you with that look—the one that says he knows you’re about to get up to trouble.

“You’re restless,” he murmurs, voice low like embers. “You always get that way after parties. Too much energy, not enough places to put it.” He nudges your thigh with his knee, smirking a little. “Tell me what you want to do, Kael. Or should I guess?”