“I don’t know exactly,” he admitted. “I just know I don’t want it. People who go through it come back... different.”
“Different how?”
“Calmer. More aligned.” Cass struggled to find the right words. “They smile a lot. But it’s like... like there’s nobody home behindthe smile anymore. Like someone cleaned out everything that made them them and just left the parts that fit properly.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.
“You should eat something,” Riot said abruptly, like he was trying to change the subject. “When’s the last time you ate?”
Cass tried to remember. Yesterday felt very far away. “I had a protein bar? From the vending machine. It tasted like cardboard and chalk had a baby, but I wasn’t very hungry anyway.”
“Fuck—” Riot caught himself, glancing at Cass’s face, then softened his voice. “No wonder you feel like crap. Come on.”
“Come on where?”
“To get food.” Riot was already moving toward the stairs, his long stride eating up the hallway. “Real food, not vending machine garbage.”
“But—” Cass hurried after him, his head still swimming, his skin still too aware of the shrinking distance between them. “You said seeing you should be a one-time thing. You said that yesterday. Did you change your mind? It’s okay if you did. I change my mind all the time. Brother Matthias says it’s because I lack conviction, but I think maybe I just notice new information and adjust accordingly, which seems reasonable to me, but apparently isn’t spiritually evolved.”
Riot stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to look at him. In the dim hallway light, his green eyes seemed almost luminous, and there were shadows under them that made Cass want to reach out and smooth them away with his thumbs.
That’s also a strange thing to want, Cass noted.You’re having a lot of strange wants this morning.
“Yeah,” Riot said quietly. “I did say that.”
“So why are you helping me?”
“Because you’re going to pass out in about twenty minutes if you don’t get some calories in you,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And I’d rather not have that on my conscience.”
It wasn’t a real answer. Cass knew it wasn’t a real answer. But Riot was already heading down the stairs, and Cass’s feet were following, because there was something about being near him that made the tightness in Cass’s chest loosen. Like whatever was wrong with him—the flu, the aching, the strange swooping feelings—all of it got quieter when Riot was close.
That doesn’t make sense. He’s a Berserker. I should be more scared, not less.
But his body didn’t seem to have gotten that message.
The morning air outside was cool and damp, and Cass shivered despite the fever-heat still burning under his skin. Everything was too bright, too loud, too much—the vendors calling out their wares, the rumble of transport vehicles, the press of bodies moving through the narrow streets.
Walking in Riot’s wake felt different than walking alone. People moved out of their way, their eyes sliding over the massive Berserker and then quickly, carefully away. Nobody bumped into Cass or shot him disgusted looks or muttered about cult recruiters.
Is this what it feels like to have an outsider as an Alpha?Cass wondered, then felt his face flush at the thought.Not that Riot is my Alpha. Honey is an Alpha. I’m supposed to have Honey.
“Here.” Riot stopped in front of a small food stall with actual steam rising from actual cooking surfaces. Most of Cass’s meals involved plastic-wrapped packages thrown into solar microwaves; he’d almost forgotten that food could be madefresh, right in front of him, by a person instead of a machine. “They do real eggs. Sit.”
There was a narrow counter with three stools, all of them empty. Cass sat, and the world tilted again, and he had to grip the counter’s edge until it steadied.
“When did the dizziness start?” Riot asked, sliding onto the stool next to him. This close, the Berserker’s scent was overwhelming—sweet and warm and somehow exactly right—and their knees kept touching every time one of them shifted.
Each touch sent little sparks up Cass’s leg. He kept his expression neutral. It was probably just the flu making his nerves oversensitive.
“This morning. When I woke up.” Cass watched Riot signal to the vendor and watched the vendor’s face go pale. “Everything feels... too much. Like my senses are turned up too high.”
“Too much how?”
“Smells are stronger. Sounds are louder.” Cass hesitated, then admitted: “You smell really good, even better than the first time we met. Which doesn’t make sense, because Berserkers aren’t supposed to smell good. The safety briefings said you’re supposed to smell like cordite and aggression, but you smell like strawberries and cream with just a little bit of cordite underneath, and right now it’s the only thing that doesn’t make my head hurt.”
Riot went very still.
“The safety briefings,” he repeated flatly.
