His Trouble Maker

Chapter 68

Chapter 68

JESSICA

The cafeteria was loud–but the moment we walked in, it went quiet. Riot didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care Inches the about him. He’s so oblivious for someone who is fucking huge. He piled a tray high with meat–rare cuts, blood pooling, slabs of protein that would made mest omegas flinch.

I didn’t sit.

I leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, forcing myself to keep my chin up. I was still bristling. Still hot in the face and chest, still replaying every breath he took near me like I could edit it after the fact.

But my eyes wouldn’t stop tracking him.

And goddess… watching him eat was a fucking experience. He didn’t chew like a civilized person. He ore. Ripped into steak with his teeth, barely using the knife, stuffing mouthful after mouthful like he hadn’t eaten in days. His jaw flexed hard. His throat worked with every swallow. Fingers slick with grease and blood.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I cleared my throat, voice sharper than I meant. “Where did they lock you, huh? Deep in the woods with the other wolves they couldn’t civilize?”

A line of juice rolled down his wrist. He licked it without breaking eye contact.

I shifted where I stood, hating how my heartbeat ticked faster at that tiny movement.

“Seriously, Riot,” I muttered, arms tightening across my chest. “What do you want with me?”

He finally sat back a little, his tray half–empty, his forearms resting against his spread thighs.

Only then did he look at me-*really* look. I really hated the way it made my back straighten.

“What makes you think I want anything?” he asked, voice casual, almost bored. His tone didn’t match his eyes. His eyes were sharp.

I narrowed mine. “Because I’m not stupid.”

He smiled again. “I didn’t say you were,” he murmured. “But I don’t need to “want something to take it.”

I blinked.

“What does that mean?”

didn’t mean for my voice to drop like that. Lower. A little tighter. But it did. Because something about the way he said it–casual and cruel–made my

chest tighten and my thoughts stutter.

Riot didn’t answer.

He just gave a lazy shrug–shoulders rising and falling like my question hadn’t even scratched the surface–and picked up another piece of meat.

He ate it slowly.

I clenched my jaw. “Riot.”

Still, he didn’t look up. He just devour the damn meat than give me his attention. After he’s done, Riot atleast had the character to clean up his mess before I saw him dropping his head onto the table.

“Can you wake me up in an hour?” he muttered, voice muffled by the crook of his elbow. “I have to meet my father then.”

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Chapter 68

Istared

he damn

1blinked, once. Twice.

time since he walked into this pack like a storm in boots,

said, slowly.

his head. Just

meeting and then he’ll be pissed, and then I’ll have to deal with “that” on top of everything else, and honestly,

into something that

insufferable menace who’d just turned my morning into a living hell–curled over a cafeteria table like a stray mutt who had

a social grenade, drops it in the middle of the pack’s power structure, and then takes a nap like he didn’t

folded tighter across my

swear to the Moon, if he starts snoring I’m going to stab him

my weight, teeth grit, heat rising again in my neck and chest. I should leave. Let him miss his meeting. Let him deal with the fallout. I didn’t *owe*

But I didn’t move.

under the irritation and confusion and the building urge to kick the leg of his chair out from under him, he’s my

mean to

didn’t mean

definitely didn’t mean to

slowing beside me–tugged at my spine. My legs had locked from standing too long. My head hurt from

It was stupid.

It was dangerous.

was also the first time since yesterday

him–arms crossed, back stiff, like I

myself I’d leave in five

I didn’t.

turned into

scar and wondering how a man like

2/4

Chapter 68

fighting me.

I blinked once.

And didn’t blink again.

Voices

And then-

“BANG.

jolted under me, the legs

slamming against my ribs,

floor, empty. His head lifted slow, groggy, like he’d

Grayson stood over us.

his bones. His jaw was tight, mouth pressed in a line so sharp it could’ve cut me. Fury didn’t just show in his eyes–it radiated off

to talk to you,”

to Riot. To

hours because he’d been grinding his teeth through the urge to

eyes, yawned like this

the strands sticking out in

Grayson’s stare didn’t shift.

said again, eyes snapping to mine.

low on the word *please*. But there was nothing soft about

mouth–but Riot

a loud crack echoing through