Page 115 of Riot

“I don’t care.” He settles me against his side so my head is resting on his chest. I don’t know where to put my hands, but he puts me where he wants me.

I just breathe him in.

Nothing else matters. We’ll have to talk about it eventually, but not today. Not now. Riot saved my life. He protected my daughter.

Facing losing him sharpened everything into focus.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too.” He presses a kiss into my hair.

We lie together until my eyes get heavy and sleep tugs me under. When I dream, it’s not of monsters or pain. It’s of this moment, when I realised what it feels like to be truly loved.

TWENTY-FOUR

EPILOGUE

IVY

FIVEWEEKS LATER…

The beamingsmile on my sister’s face as she talks animatedly with the two women sitting with her warms my soul.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect when May said she was hosting her birthday party at her workplace, but Temptation’s not as sleazy as I thought it would be.

Sure, the floor’s sticky in places, and it’s a little rough around the edges, but I can see Maylie’s fingerprints all over the bar. My sister has this way of leaving a mark on everything she touches—even strip clubs.

“We should come here when the girls are working,” Katie says from my side. Her gaze is locked on the stage and the two poles at either end of it.

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to come and watch busty women swinging around in their underwear,” Dayna teases.

I smile at my friends, breathing in this moment of normality. The calm after the storm.

“No reason.” Katie turns to me. “I can’t believe your sister works in a strip bar.”

“And all her friends are strippers,” Dayna adds as Candy—or maybe she’s Star—laughs loud enough to yank our attention towards her. “Pretty sure the only real tits in the room are ours.”

Katie looks over at the girls sitting with my sister, tilting her head. “Nah. They’re not all fake.”

“How can you tell?” Dayna demands as awareness prickles along my nape, a ghost of a touch.

“Oh, babe, practice. Lots and lots of practice.”

I twist towards the bar area, and as I suspected, he’s watching me.

His gaze scorches my skin like a brand and sends shivers trailing along my spine.

Riot.

My Riot.

Seren is strapped against his chest, his hand resting on her back like he’d take a bullet for her. It’s at odds with the molten heat pinning me to my seat.

If he keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to crawl up him like a cat in heat.

His dimple slices through his cheek, and I almost give up on pretending I don’t want to cross the room and rip his clothes off.

It’s been five weeks since the attack, but it feels like an eternity.

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