Page 50 of Riot's Thorn
It’s disappointing when I find Parker already in pajamas, tucked into bed and reading a book she found in my closet. I don’t even know where it came from because me and reading don’t get along. Two sentences in, and my mind wanders until I’ve been staring at those same two sentences for an hour.
My towel drops to the ground, and I walk over to my dresser, grabbing a pair of boxers and black jeans. From my closet, I snag a black T-shirt then toss the clothes on the bed and begin to dress. Parker lets out a choked sound, and I look up to find her eyes locked on my still semi-erect cock. Now that I’ve had her, this will be my natural state when she’s in the same vicinity.
“I’m headed out for a while. Need anything?” I tuck my junk in my boxers and pull up my pants.
She sits up. “Where are you going?”
“Got some shit to take care of. Don’t wait up,” I say, tugging my shirt over my head and finger-combing my wet hair.
“Uh, okay. Yeah. Whatever.”
I bend down to kiss her, going for chaste, but she tastes like mint and mine, so I take it deeper until we’re both gasping for air. “Stay out of trouble, Little Thorn.”
“Hard to get into trouble when I’m locked in the cabin.”
“True.”
Reluctantly, I leave her. I’m not sure that’s what I’m supposed to do after popping her cherry, but shit happens no matter what’s going on, and it’s a lesson she’ll have to learn now that she’s with me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PARKER
Ihear the front door close with asnick,and even though I needed a moment to myself after everything that happened, now Riot’s gone, there’s a heaviness in my chest. It’s stupid, really. I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl who lost her virginity in the backseat of a Wrangler. I’m a grown woman who knows virginity is a social construct that means nothing.
Still, though. Why do I wish he were here to hold me while I slept?
Shaking it off, I try to get back into a science fiction book I found in Riot’s closet, but it’s a complicated story that requires the reader’s full attention, something I’m not capable of right now. I throw off the covers and set the book on the nightstand, intending to get a glass of water from the kitchen, but when I pass the pantry, I hear the rats squeaking.
“You guys want to come out and play for a while?” I ask, opening the pantry door. The excited yips I get in return have me opening their enclosure. Riot never said I wasn’t allowed to do this, but knowing how much they mean to him, I vow to be extra careful.
After getting my glass of water, I snag a handful of animal crackers. They’re not even the circus ones with frosting andsprinkles. No, these ones are brown and plain, but Ben and Amy will probably still like them. I take a seat in the living room, only a little nervous about the eager way they climb up my outstretched legs. Their tiny feet almost tickle my bare skin as they scurry.
“You guys want a late-night snack?” The cracker feels too big to give it to them whole, so I break it into two chunks and hold them out. I squeal when they take their treat and sit on my thighs to eat. This close, I can appreciate how cute they are. Their tiny hands turning the cracker around as they eat is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen.
I pop the remainder of the cracker in my mouth and wince. It tastes like cardboard. I understand Riot has a simple palate, but there has to be something better than this. Ben and Amy don’t mind, though, so I sit in their company, feeding them gross crackers until I’m all out.
“Do you like living with Riot?” I ask, just to break the silence. The pair is good company but obviously not very talkative. “I’m not sure how to feel about this. I like him, but I don’t like the circumstances that brought me here. You guys probably feel the same, since you were yanked out from the wild and stuck in a glass box. Wait, were you taken from the wild? Or were you born in captivity?”
They give me no answers but make me laugh as they wrestle around. I’m glad they aren’t standoffish with me anymore, and I regret ever being afraid of them. My eyes start to feel heavy after a crazy, eventful day and night, so I climb onto the couch and spread out.
Ben is the first to follow me up. I hold still while he finds the perfect spot to snuggle up, which happens to be above my shoulder. Amy soon follows and chooses to curl up under my chin. She must feel safe in small nooks, just like Riot.
I close my eyes and try to figure out how I got here. Last week, my life was perfectly mundane: class, homework, hanging with my roommates or other friends, bed, and repeat. Once a week, I visited Dad and had dinner but went back to my life. Now, I never know what the next day will bring. It’s terrifying, and I’m all on my own. Even if I could speak to my friends, they wouldn’t have advice about this. I grin, thinking about how that conversation would go.
Sleep tugs at me, trying to pull me under, but I fight it, wanting to stay up until Riot gets home so I can find out why he rushed out of here. That’s a lie. I want to finish our conversation. He’s under this misguided notion that because he saved my life, he owns me and gets to make all my decisions. I can’t deny there’s something between us, as fucked up as that is, but that doesn’t mean I want to marry him.
But hours pass, and eventually, sleep pulls me under.
When I wake up, I’m no longer on the couch. I’m in Riot’s bed, lying on his bare chest, like every other morning. And also like every other morning, he’s already awake, one arm around me, the other tucked under his head as he stares at the ceiling.
“How did I end up here?” I ask through a yawn before resting my cheek back on his warm chest.
“Carried you.”
“You did? And I didn’t wake up?”
“Nope. Gotta say, coming home and seeing you cuddled up with Ben and Amy was cute.”
