Page 55 of Hymns of the Broken
The world narrows to the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against mine, the faint, electric awareness that people are watching—Riot especially, and I want him to see. I want them all to fucking see.
When I finally pull away, her lips are red and swollen. Her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. I let my mouth linger on her jaw, a last possessive kiss. My voice is a growl meant for her and anyone else within range.
“I’ll tell you this one more time,” I snarl, loud enough for Riot to hear. “I don’t give a fuck who’s looking. I’ll take what’s mine right in front of them.”
I set her down gently, but my grip never softens. I glance over my shoulder, locking eyes with Riot across the lot. He’s standing frozen, that cocky smile wiped right off his face.
Good.
With Sawyer dazed beside me, I tug her up the bus steps, not caring who’s watching, not caring what happens next—only knowing I’ve made my point.
She’s mine. And now everyone knows it.
RIOT
For onestupid second, I actually believed my grin would last.
She was looking at me—really looking—right until Reign slammed her against the side of the bus, his hands all over her like he needed the whole damn world to see. Like he needed me to see.
The sound of her gasp still echoes in my ears, haunting and sweet. I can feel the drumsticks digging into my palm, my whole body tense, wired, like the music never left me. I want to look away, but I can’t—not with her legs locked around his waist, not when she moans for him like she’s already ruined.
And he kisses her. Hard and possessive. Like he’s burning down every inch of doubt and staking his claim right through her soul.
I want to hate it. I want to turn away, spit and laugh. To pretend I don’t care, but all I can do is stare—trapped in the carnage of that kiss, watching her fall apart for him, watching him mark her as his. My smile’s gone. My jaw aches from clenching.
He glances back, just once, and the look in his eyes is a warning. But she looked back, too. Just for a second. Enough for hope to sink in.
He can try to own her.
But it’s not over.
Not for me.
SAWYER
The bus door squeaks shut behind us, muffling the last echoes of bands packing and the scattered carnival noise.
One more day in Omaha before the circus moves on. I should be relieved—extra time to breathe, to process, to pretend this all makes sense. But I already know tomorrow morning is going to be a different kind of chaos.
I can still taste Jasper on my tongue. My whole body is humming, nerves stretched tight, adrenaline tangled with something darker and sweeter.
He doesn’t say a word as we find somewhere to settle. The bus jolts to life, engine rumbling beneath us, and soon the world outside becomes a smear of colors—carnival lights giving way to the midnight city lights. I swipe my camera off the seat beside me, hands shaking, but all I can think about is the way he just kissed me. The way he wanted everyone to see.
He’s settled across the aisle, legs spread, arms crossed over his chest like he’s still daring anyone to challenge what just happened. His eyes find me, and for a second, no one else on this bus exists. Not the band, not the driver, not even Riot, who I know is somewhere on his own bus licking his wounds.
My lips still throb. I try to breathe, but every inhale drags me back to that moment—metal biting my back, Jasper’s hands rough on my thighs, the universe narrowing to nothing but us. It should scare me how much I like it. How much I want to be wanted, but mostly, I just want more.
Outside, the city lights blur past as the bus loops through downtown—heading to park for the night near where the interviews are being held tomorrow. I’m supposed to be editing shots for tomorrow’s promo—keeping it professional, keeping my head down—but my fingers keep tracing my lips, over and over, replaying everything that happened today. I squeeze my thighs together to stifle the feelings running wild with my thoughts.
He catches me looking at him and the slightest hint of a smile tugs at his mouth. My cheeks heat and I look away, but he’s already making his way over.
He drops into the seat beside me, so close that his thigh is against mine. The air crackles, the privacy of a barely lit bus making everything sharper, heavier.
He leans in, voice barely above a whisper, meant for me and no one else. “Don’t think for a second that I’m done with you.”
My pulse skips. I try to play it cool, but my words come out too soft, too real. “Then what are you waiting for?”
“Impatient now, are we?” He grins as his hand slides over my knee, sending sparks straight to my core. I know the others are scattered throughout the bus—Jace muttering at his phone in the front lounge, Ash passed out with his headphones on, Silas probably brooding in his bunk, Micah on his computer like always. There’s no absolute privacy where we're at. Someone could walk by any second.
