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?”

He spits the words like venom, wiping his mouth with the back

throat camps shut. I clutch the blanket tighter around my

care. “Didn’t mean to? Didn’t plan it? Or did you forget we were mates while he was fucking you into the goddamn

reel back like he punched me. My heel knocks against the edge of the sofa. The blanket slips, baring one shoulder, and I yank it back up like that’ll

I whisper. “It’s

it’s exactly

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Chapter 88

shake my head. “You don’t

You don’t understand.” Riot’s voice cracks. His hands 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

mouth–split, swollen, red–and wonder

didn’t ask for the bond,” I say, voice low. “You

voice turns sharp. Cold. You just asked

I

he’s not done.

rough with me. My breath

gaze up.

“Look at me, Jess.”

Because if I look

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 hurts to

didn’t even fucking hesitate,” he snarls, voice

“Riot-”

grip tightens. “I trusted you,”

“I’m not,” I whisper.

But fast. I hit the edge of the counter with a gasp, blanket slipping, clutching it

see it in

He’s breaking.

is how he does it. With pain.

smell like him,” Riot snarls. “Fucking stinks in

my voice wavers.

nose brushes the

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

my body