His Trouble Maker

Chapter 68

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 serious fight

1blinked, once. Twice.

this pack

I said, slowly.

his head. Just gave

he repeated, like I hadn’t heard him the first time. “If I don’t wake up, I’ll miss the meeting and then he’ll be pissed, and then I’ll have to deal with “that” on top of everything

voice trailed off into something that

man–this smug, scarred, insufferable menace who’d just turned my morning into a living hell–curled over

a social grenade, drops it in the middle of the pack’s power

tighter across my

if he starts snoring I’m going

rising again in my neck and chest. I should leave. Let him miss his meeting. Let him

But I didn’t move.

leg of his chair out from under him, he’s my only chance to get

didn’t mean

didn’t mean to

definitely didn’t

maddening sound of Riot’s breathing slowing beside me–tugged at my spine. My legs had locked from standing too long. My head hurt from clenching my jaw. And

It was stupid.

It was dangerous.

since yesterday that no

into the seat across from him–arms crossed, back stiff, like

told myself I’d leave in

I didn’t.

five minutes turned into

glaring at his scar and wondering how a man like that could sleep so deeply with

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Chapter 68

fighting me.

I blinked once.

And didn’t blink again.

dimmed. Voices

And then-

“BANG.

legs skidding

a gasp, heart slamming against my ribs, breath caught halfway in my

tray clattered to the floor, empty. His head lifted slow, groggy, like

Grayson stood over us.

so hard I thought I could hear the strain in his bones. His jaw was tight, mouth pressed in a line so sharp it could’ve cut

talk to

Riot.

hours because he’d been grinding

blearily, rubbed his eyes, yawned like this wasn’t already a storm

his hair, the strands sticking out in

Grayson’s stare didn’t shift.

eyes snapping

voice dropped low on the word *please*. But there was nothing soft about it. It

my mouth–but Riot beat

rolled his neck, a loud crack echoing

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