Riven's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, the heat of his embarrassment coursing through him like wildfire. He only realised now what Ronan meant. How could he- name him something like that!
With a swift motion, he pushed himself up and away from Ronan, his movements hurried and slightly clumsy. His fingers fumbled as he adjusted his disheveled clothing, smoothing out the creases and tugging at the hem of his shirt and buttoning his pants as if that could erase what had just transpired.
Without meeting Ronan's gaze, Riven turned on his heel and began to walk away, his strides brisk and purposeful. The cool night air brushed against his heated skin, providing a stark contrast to the warmth that had enveloped him moments before.
Ronan, still lying on the ground, watched Riven's retreating figure with an amused glint in his eyes. His own clothing was in a state of disarray, but such trivial matters held no concern for him.
