Page 31 of Riot

“You’re not going to kill anyone.”

“I’m serious.” The space between us suddenly vanishes. I’m aware of everything from the shallow breaths he’s dragging in to the smell of leather from his kutte. His thigh is only inches from mine, and I can feel the heat coming off his body.

“You don’t have to fight my battles for me,” I say quietly.

“No, I don’t, but I will. Every fuckin’ time.”

My chest tightens, and there’s a pulse of heat low in my belly. I want to touch him. I want him to touch me, even though it terrifies me.

Emboldened, I brush my fingers over his bruised cheek, and he freezes, his eyes darting to mine. The question dances in them.

“Does it hurt?”

There’s no sign of his usual humour as he stares at me. “No.”

He’s lying, but I let it slide. “Why were you fighting? Tell me the truth.”

He doesn’t speak, but then he sighs. “It helps.”

“You need the pain to feel?”

“Usually, but not last night.”

“I don’t… I don’t get it.”

“I know.” He wraps his fingers around my wrist, and my breath locks in my chest. “And I’m glad you don’t.” When he lets go, my skin is immediately cold. “Wanna get out of here?”

I blink at him.Is he serious?“You realise you’re beat to hell, right?”

“I rode here on my bike, and I wanna stretch my legs. Besides, you and the princess need to get fresh air. I’m guessin’ you ain’t seen daylight since I’ve been gone.”

I don’t give him shit for riding here. I should, but it’s not my place, and I know he wouldn’t have got on the bike if he couldn’t do it safely. Both he and Mace treat their motorcycles with reverence.

When I don’t answer, he holds his hands up defensively. “We’ll just go for a quick walk. Nothin’ too strenuous.”

“Fine,” I agree, since I want to spend time with him.

I’m desperate for any moment I can have with him.

I get ready and make sure Seren is dressed for the cold. She’s sleepier than usual today, and a little tendril of worry unfurls in my stomach. She doesn’t feel warm, and she’s been nursing fine, but as soon as I lay her in the pram, she dozes off again.

She’s fine. Stop stressing about every little thing.

We walk slowly because of his injuries. Silence wraps around us, comfortable, easy and warm. This is where I feel most at peace—with him.

His phone rings, shattering our quiet. Suddenly, the real world is knocking on the door and I’m not ready to let it back in.

Not yet.

I stop as he pulls it out and scowls. “I gotta take this.” He nods towards the bench. “Sit. Don’t move.”

I roll my eyes and mutter, “What am I? A Labrador?”

But he’s already out of earshot.

I sink onto the bench and watch him pacing.

Maybe it’s one of his many conquests.

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