His Trouble Maker

Chapter 88

JESSICA

“Grayson?”

“Grayson?”

Where is he?

I check the front door Unlocked. Slightly open. A gust of early morning air rushes in and my grip on the blanket tightens.

Did he… go back to the pack village?

I drag the blanket around me tighter, clumsily stepping back inside. My body still hurts from last night. A blush creeps up my cheeks, stupid and stubborn. We really… outdid it.

He was feral last night. Brutal. Gentle. All of it. I didn’t know you could be worshipped and devoured in the same breath. I didn’t know someone could touch you like they’re starving and still somehow make you feel safe.

I press my fingers to my throat and feel the faintest trace of a bite. Not a full mark. But close. So close it makes me dizzy.

I wander toward the kitchen, dragging the blanket along the floor behind me. It catches on the corner of a chair and nearly yanks me off my feet.

“Grayson?” I call again, quieter this time.

Still no answer.

The silence is starting to get… heavy.

And that’s when the front door slams open.

I jolt.

A cold burst of wind blows in–and then Riot steps inside with some bruises on his face.

I quickly went and tried to touch it but he rejected me. “W–What happened?”

Riot drags a breath in through his nose, jaw clenched so tight I hear it crack. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

the one who needs help.” He spits the words like

camps shut. I clutch the blanket tighter around my body. It’s still warm where Grayson’s skin touched mine

what?” Riot steps closer, limping slightly. His boots drag over the floor like it hurts to walk but he doesn’t care. “Didn’t mean to? Didn’t plan it? Or did you forget we were mates while he was fucking you into the goddamn

The blanket slips, baring one shoulder, and I

didn’t forget,” I whisper. “It’s not like

“Oh, it’s exactly like

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10:27 Sat, 23 Aug

Chapter 88

my head. “You

tremble, fingers curling into fists at his sides. “You think I didn’t feel it? Every time he touched you–I felt it. It’s like someone dragging claws through my ribcage while I just stand there and

at his mouth–split, swollen, red–and wonder if it

bond,” I

His voice turns sharp. Cold. You just asked for him, didn’t

I choke

not done. He’s

but he was never rough with me. My breath catches. His fingers are cold–calloused, angry–as they grip my chin

gaze up.

“Look at me, Jess.”

don’t want to. I can’t. Because if I look at

is cracked and crusted with dried blood. I don’t know if it was Grayson’s fist or his own damn pride that did it, but it

snarls, voice low

“Riot-”

trusted you,”

“I’m not,” I whisper.

of the counter with a

too close–and I see

He’s breaking.

does it. With pain. With

like him,” Riot

snap, but my voice wavers. “Just–go. You don’t get to do

don’t?” His hands slam down on either side of me. I flinch. His nose brushes the shell of my ear. “You let him ruin you, Jess. And now you think you’re safe from

He knows me. He taught me how to break an enemy’s stance, how to twist out of a chokehold–but he also taught

my body remembers