“Nothing.” Cass was backing away towards the bathroom, holding his hands out like he could stop a Berserker. “Nothing else.”
“Cass.” Riot stepped forward, matching his retreat. “Show me what he did to your legs.”
“It’s nothing serious.” He took another step back.
“Where?”
“On my thighs.” Cass’s voice came out as barely a whisper. “It’s the first time he’s ever done those areas. He said the earthly attachments were concentrated there.”
The new wounds were the most shameful part, because they proved that even eight years of negative energy releases hadn’t fixed what was wrong with him. Brother Matthias had to keep finding new places to open, new ways to let the divine light in, and still Cass couldn’t be fixed.
Riot went very, very still. Cass could hear his own breathing and the blood rushing in his ears and feel his pulse pounding in places he didn’t want to think about.
“What kind of tool does he use?”
The question made Cass’s stomach lurch. He’d never described it out loud before or had to put words to the thing that happened behind closed doors, in sacred silence.
“I don’t... I don’t like to watch.” His voice was shaking. Everything was shaking. “It makes me feel sick. But it’s like a... a hole punch, I think. It takes out a circle of skin. And then there’s another tool that goes underneath and scrapes around the edges, so the release point stays open properly and the negative energy can escape.”
The muscle along Riot’s jaw jumped and his golden eyes were no longer flat. They were empty. “How long has this been happening?”
“Since I was sixteen.” Cass wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “When I first started having compatibility issues with Honey. Brother Matthias said the negative energy was preventing me from developing proper spiritual connections.”
“And you believed him?”
Cass nodded. “Of course. He’s my spiritual guide. He’s helping me become worthy.”
There was that sound again—the growling. It vibrated through Cass’s chest and made something low in his belly clench in response. “I know I’m not very good at this,” he said desperately. “But I’m trying. Brother Matthias says if I can just bring backone recruit, I might be allowed to come home. I might finally be the partner Honey deserves.”
“And if you can’t?”
The Chrysalis program. For Honey. Because of me.
“Not nice things,” he managed.
The silence that followed was so thick Cass could barely think through it. Riot’s eyes were fixed on the blood soaking through his robes, and that hungry expression was back—the one Cass didn’t understand, the one that made his stomach feel sick and wrong andhotall at once.
“I need to clean those wounds too,” Riot said. His voice was too calm. Too controlled.
“No.” The word burst out of Cass before he could stop it. He slapped his hands over his mouth and stumbled back towards the bathroom. “No, please, I can handle those myself. You don’t need to see—those are the worst ones—they’re about why I’m failing—”
“Princess.” Riot’s voice dropped low into a register that made Cass’s knees want to buckle.
Why is he looking at me like that? What does it mean?
“Please don’t make me. Please—”
“If you don’t take them off,” Riot growled, “I’m going to take them off for you.”
He didn’t move to take off his pants. He couldn’t. Riot’s hands were on him before he could process it happening, closing around his waist, warm and firm, and then his pants were being pulled down in one smooth motion. The cool air hit his bare thighs and Cass hung his head, hoping his hair would hide the fact he was still crying, still mouthing the word ‘please’, still being an overemotional failure…
“Sit.” Riot guided him backward toward the chair with controlled movements that left no room for argument. “I’ve got you.”
Cass collapsed into the chair more than sat. His legs fell open, spread by the position, and the fresh wounds on his inner thighs were visible—angry red circles, still oozing blood, placed high on the sensitive skin. They didn’t hurt anymore, probably thanks to the alcohol and the pill and Riot being close, but it hurt his heart to have them exposed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I know—I know how bad it is—I’ve tried so hard to be better but nothing works—”
“It’s fine.” Riot knelt between his legs.
