This is a problem. This is a serious fucking problem. Why does his simplicity do this to me?
“Not usually,” he managed.
“That’s sad.” Cass’s fingers traced idle patterns on Riot’s chest, each touch sending fire racing through his nerve endings. “Everyone should have someone to cuddle. Even Berserkers. Especially Berserkers.” He yawned. “You deserve nice things too.”
You’re killing me. You’re actually killing me, and you don’t even know it.
Riot caught Cass’s wandering hand, stilling it. His other hand stayed on Cass’s back, his thumb tracing circles on that hot, bare skin, because apparently he couldn’t stop touching him even when he knew he should.
Fuck it.
Just for today. Just this once. He’d hold Cass and keep him safe and not think about suppressants or the Syndicate or the promises he was breaking. Tomorrow he’d figure out how to be a better person.
Cass nuzzled into his throat one last time, then relaxed against him. “‘I think I’m going to take a nap, Riot.”
“Okay, princess.”
Within minutes, Cass’s breathing had evened out into real sleep—deep and peaceful in a way it hadn’t been all day. His body was still too warm, still fighting through the pre-heat, but the tension had drained out of him completely.
Riot lay perfectly still, staring at the water-stained ceiling, Cass’s weight warm and solid against his chest.
He was in so much trouble.
Not just because of what was building in his system like a bomb waiting to go off, though that wasn’t helping.
He wanted this. He wantedhim. He wanted the way Cass looked at him like he wasn’t a monster, like the scary stuff didn’t matter, like maybe Riot could be something other than a weapon after all.
Mine.
Yeah, Riot thought, closing his eyes.So fucking mine.
Chapter nine
In the Garden of Delusion
Cass
Casswoketowarmth.
Not the feverish, uncomfortable heat that had been plaguing him, but something better—solid and safe, wrapped around him like he belonged there. His cheek was pressed against bare skin, and the scent of strawberries and cream filled his lungs with every breath.
It took him a moment to remember why he was sleeping on top of someone.
Riot.
The events of the previous night filtered back slowly. The scars. Riot’s scars. The way they’d traced each other’s damage in the dim light, mapping hurts that matched even if they came from different sources. And then... cuddling. Falling asleep wrapped around each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Cass’s stomach did something strange—a flip or a clench, he couldn’t tell which—and a small sound escaped the back of his throat before he could stop it. A whine, almost, soft and involuntary.
His face heated immediately.Why does that keep happening?
“You’re awake,” Riot said, his voice rough with sleep. His hand was already moving, pressing against Cass’s forehead, fingers threading through his hair. “And your temperature’s still elevated.”
“Mmm.” Cass pressed closer without thinking, chasing the contact. His body felt achy and strange, but Riot’s touch made it better somehow. “You’re warm.”
“You’re burning up.” But Riot’s hand didn’t move away. If anything, his touch became more deliberate, calloused thumb tracing along Cass’s hairline in slow strokes.
That strange sensation happened again—heat spreading outward from everywhere Riot touched—and another soft sound escaped before Cass could swallow it. He pressed his lips together hard, mortified.
