Page 154 of Hymns of the Broken
He stirs immediately, sleep-rough voice gentle at my ear. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. I got you, Hellcat.”
He pulls me in tighter, his hold steady as iron but so soft. “You’re safe. Right here with us.”
I try to nod, but my breath is coming too fast. Riot shifts, bringing us forehead to forehead, his eyes half-open but all-in. He takes my hand and settles it over his chest, his heartbeat slow and strong.
“Breathe with me,” he whispers, his palm rubbing slow circles over my stomach. “In…and out. Just like that. I’m not going anywhere.”
I close my eyes and follow him—matching my breath to his, letting him count each inhale and exhale. Slowly, the panic ebbs, my heartbeat syncing with his until all that’s left is the warmth of his skin, his fingers tracing lazy lines up and down my side.
“You’re okay, Sawyer,” he whispers, his lips brushing my forehead. “We’ve got you.”
“Distract me,” I whisper, voice shaky but hopeful, curling myself into Riot’s side.
He doesn’t hesitate. He shifts closer, his thigh sliding against mine, hishand never leaving my stomach. His thumb rubs slow, lazy circles over my skin, dipping just beneath the hem of my shirt. It’s grounding and electric all at once.
His voice is soft in my ear, half laughter, half comfort. “Alright, Hellcat. Picture this—Dex decides he’s a gourmet chef, right? Three a.m. on the bus. He tries to flip pancakes, but Milo’s left the spray can of whipped cream too close to the burner. Have you ever heard a can explode at three a.m.? Shade nearly punched Dex in the face, andMilo screamed and tripped over the drum kit. I swear, I still find dried whipped cream in my backpack sometimes.”
As he talks, his fingers trace slow lines up my side, teasing the edge of my breast, just enough to make me squirm. Every touch is light and playful; it keeps my thoughts anchored to him and in the present moment.
He leans in, mouth brushing my jaw. “Or the time Shade lost a bet—had to wear Dex’s pink unicorn onesie to soundcheck. Milo got the entire crew to call him ‘Princess’ for the rest of the week. I’ve got pictures if you ever need blackmail material.”
I giggle, the sound shaky but real. Riot’s hand slips lower, smoothing over my hip, his thumb rubbing endless circles that send warmth rushing through my chest.
“Or Milo’s infamous stage-dive. Kid tried to crowd surf during our Denver show—misjudged the leap and landed right in Dex’s arms. They both went down, guitar strings snapping, me trying not to piss myself laughing. Dex still claims he’s got nerve damage, but honestly, I think he likes the attention.”
He nudgeshis nose against mine, his other hand slipping under my shirt to splay wide and warm over my stomach. His touch is patient, never rushing, never demanding, but every stroke pulls me farther away from the dark spiral in my mind.
“You feeling better yet?” he whispers, voice low, full of promise as his thumb brushes the underside of my breast.
I nod, words lost in my throat. All I can do is breathe and let myself sink into the safety and steady chaos that is Riot.
He grins, pressing his lips to my forehead, then my lips. “I got you, Hellcat. I’ll keep distracting you all day if you let me.”
“Keep distracting me,” I whisper, my voice small but needy, curling even closer to him. His hands don’t stop. One tracing light, lazy circles across my stomach, the other trailing over my hip, grounding me to every word.
He shifts so we’re nose to nose, his thumb sliding slowly and possessively over my skin. “You remember the first night we met—when you were upset outside the buses? That wasn’t the first time I saw you.”
I blink, thrown, and he keeps going, his lips ghosting my jaw. “It was Omaha—first day of tour. I’d just rolled out of the bus, way too early, looking for coffee. And there you were—this tiny, gothic tornado with a camera. You were crouched in the grass, shooting photos of the stage rigging like you owned the place.”
His hand glides higher under my shirt, skimming along my ribs, never rushed. “I couldn’t stop watching you. Black hair with wild blue and green tips, skin all inked up, boots bigger than your head, totally focused—like nothing could mess with you when you had that camera in your hand. I thought, ‘Damn. Who is she?’ I wanted you right then. Didn’t even know your name yet, but I wanted you.”
He chuckles, the sound low in his chest. “You finished up, checked your photos, and for a second I thought you were gonna leave. I was halfway across the lot, about to walk right up and introduce myself, maybe steal your camera to get your attention.”
His palmpresses warm and sure against my heart, and I can’t help but shiver under his touch.
“But then Jasper beat me to it. He always moves quickly when he wants something. I watched him talk to you, and the way you laughed—God, I wanted to hate him for it. You made him look soft. He hasn’t been soft for anyone in years. But I thought, ‘Shit, if it’s not me, at least she picked the only guy I’d ever let steal my thunder.’”
Riot’s lips brush my forehead, his hand still stroking, keeping me anchored. “I never stopped wanting you, though. Not for a second. And now—having you right here, letting me touch you, hearing you breathe—there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep this. To keep you.”
I can’t find words, only breath and the wild thump of my heart. Riot’s hands, his voice, the confessions I never saw coming—they’re all I need right now.
He smiles against my skin, pulling me even closer, and I let him—letting his stories, his hands, and his honesty distract me from everything except him.
Riot’s mouth crushes against mine, hungry now—his hands sliding up under my shirt, palms hot and sure. I gasp into his kiss, arching toward him, every nerve suddenly begging for more.
He pulls back just enough to look at me—eyes dark, lips parted. “Let me make you forget everything but me, Hellcat,” he murmurs, and before I can answer, he’s kissing down my throat, along my collarbone, lips and teeth and tongue worshipping every inch of skin he uncovers.
He peels my shirt up, his mouth trailing lower, pressing kisses over my sternum, my belly, down to the waistband of my shorts. He glances up at me, wicked, and slowly, so slowly, tugs my shorts and underwear down my thighs and off. I’m already shaking, every muscle tense with need.
