Chapter 99

38

JESSICA

There’s a part of me that thinks this is just a nightmare. That if I dig my nails deep enough into my palm, I’ll wake up in my bed. Back home. Whole. Before the cell. Before Riot. Before any of this.

I keep thinking if I stand still long enough, maybe I’ll feel like myself again. Maybe the wind will scrape off whatever Riot did. Maybe I’ll stop flinching at nothing. Maybe Grayson will stop looking at me like I’m breakable.

Or worse–like I’m not.

I crossed a line. Or someone did. Or maybe we all did and now no one wants to say it first. My heat broke. The fever’s gone. But everything else–my instincts, my body, the part of me that still wants to crawl out of my skin–it’s still here.

Riot touched me like I belonged to him.

And some part of me let him.

That’s what I can’t say out loud.

It wasn’t choice. Not really. But it wasn’t exactly resistance either. It was survival. It was instinct. It was need warped into something feral and ugly.

“Grayson…“I said, turning around so I could face him. We decided to watch the sunrise earlier after our fight last night. It was something we should’ve done and I am so pathetic for saying all of those words to him.

When I look up, he looks so tired. His eyes are red and puffy and he looks like he really hasn’t gotten any sleep ever since he rescued me. There’s also a fine line on his forehead now and I wonder how much thinking he does to keep us alive.

“You look like shit,” I murmur, softer than I mean to.

He huffs out a breath through his nose–half–laugh, half–exhale. “Thanks.”

I step closer, even though my chest tightens when I do. There’s still this horrible thing inside me that wants to run the second he gets too close.

“I didn’t mean it,” I say. My voice cracks a little. “What I said last night.”

Grayson frowns as if the fight still bothers him. “Which part?”

I don’t know.” I rub

like he already knew

am hesitating now, touching his face. “I keep trying to shake it off. Wash it out. But it’s still there,” L whisper. “I still feel him sometimes. On my skin.

this to Grayson. I shouldn’t be dumping my broken pieces in his hands when

I need him to know. Because if anyone’s going to

hand lifts slowly. Carefully. Like he’s afraid ‘ flinch. And maybe i do a little. But I don’t pull away when his fingers brush the back of

of you

My breath catches.

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Tue, 26 Aug

Chapter 99

$ ཊཱི63%

rough, not demanding–just… there. Anchoring. Thumb brushing my cheek like

Then-

graze the bridge of my nose, warm and featherlight. A barely–there

breath is warm. His

lower, slow, careful, reverent. The slope of my cheek. My temple. My

“Here?”

want to. My lungs feel too full and too empty at the same time. Every place he

back,

My senses go sharp.

us, the lake soft and dark and watching. His hands slide down to my hips. “What about here?” he whispers, kissing the side

of my eyes before I can stop them. My throat tightens, and I shake my

pulls back just enough

where he touched you, baby. I will still

and hot down my cheeks. He just kisses one. Then another. Then my jaw, just under my ear. His breath

to the small of my back. His touch never strays,

His lips graze the corner of my mouth, not quite a kiss. “You’re not

words break

that my forehead brushes his. My fingers curl into

still mine,” he says, and this

over mine like he’s relearning every ridge and curve–soft at first, then rougher as his intention sharpens. I taste myself–salt and fear and something foreign under his tongue–then I taste him: woodsmoke,

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