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?”

at me like I’m the one who needs help.” He spits the words like venom, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You

blanket tighter around my body. It’s still warm where

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

heel knocks against the edge of the sofa. The blanket slips, baring one shoulder, and

forget,” I whisper. “It’s not like

“Oh, it’s

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Chapter 88

shake my head.

fists at his sides. “You think I didn’t feel it? Every time he touched you–I felt it. It’s like

burns. I glance at his mouth–split, swollen, red–and wonder if it was Grayson

the bond,” I say, voice low. “You

sharp. Cold. You just asked for him,

it,” I

not done. He’s

My breath catches.

gaze up.

“Look at me, Jess.”

to. I can’t. Because if I look at him, really look, I’ll see

if it was Grayson’s fist or his own damn pride that

snarls, voice

“Riot-”

His grip tightens. “I trusted you,” he

“I’m not,” I whisper.

counter with a gasp, blanket slipping,

too close–and I see

He’s breaking.

he does

smell like him,” Riot snarls.

I snap, but my voice wavers. “Just–go.

I flinch. His nose brushes the shell of my ear. “You let

He taught me how to

my body