A low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the corridor like thunder, settling somewhere deep in Cass’s abdomen. He risked a glance over his shoulder.
Riot’s eyes were so bright. His expression had transformed into something primal—not angry, not even hungry exactly. Just...focused. Like Cass was the only thing in the world that existed. It was the most terrifying thing Cass had ever seen.
It was also, somehow, the most thrilling.
The stairwell door appeared ahead, and Cass slammed through it, taking the stairs two at a time despite his shaking legs. The concrete was cold under his bare feet, sharp against skin that felt fever-hot. He had no plan, no destination, just the overwhelming need to run and the contradictory, confusing hope that he wouldn’t run fast enough.
He made it down one flight before a strong arm wrapped around his waist from behind.
His feet left the ground. The world spun. And then his back was against the wall of the stairwell landing, Riot’s massive body pinning him in place so completely that Cass couldn’t have moved if he tried.
“I warned you,” Riot growled. His breath was hot against Cass’s neck, one hand splayed possessively across Cass’s stomach while the other gripped his hip hard enough to bruise. “Told you what would happen if you ran.”
Cass couldn’t find words. The rough concrete scraped against his bare back where his bandages had shifted, but the sting was nothing compared to the feeling of Riot’s body pressed against his—all that heat and muscle and hardness grinding against him. He could feel the thick ridge of Riot’s arousal against his stomach, and his body clenched around nothing in response.
“Your scent changes when you run.” Riot’s nose traced a line up Cass’s neck, and Cass shivered, a whimper escaping before he could stop it. “Like you’re begging me to catch you.”
“I wasn’t—” Cass’s voice came out as a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh.” Riot’s hand slid from his stomach to his thigh, fingers trailing through the wetness that had run down past his underwear. “Your body doesn’t lie, princess. This tells me exactly what you really want, no matter what pretty lies Elysian taught you.”
Cass was crying again, but he wasn’t sure if it was from fear or overwhelm or the confusing pleasure that kept sparking through him every time Riot touched him.
“Your body knows exactly what it needs,” Riot said, his voice deeper than usual. “And I’ll give it to you princess, as many times as you need.”
Cass shook his head. “But I’m scared.”
Riot’s hand came up to cup Cass’s face, his thumb brushing over his lower lip. “That’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared.”
The permission made something loosen in Cass’s chest. He was scared—terrified, even—but Riot wasn’t angry about it. He wasn’t telling him his fear was a spiritual deficiency that needed to be released.
“You’re going to do so good for me,” Riot murmured, nuzzling into Cass’s neck and inhaling before he sucked at the skin. “Right, princess?”
Cass whined and nodded, unable to form words as Riot’s teeth gently nibbled at his Adam’s apple.
“There you go,” Riot said, thumbing away the tears. “Let yourself feel it.”
Then he kissed Cass again, and the fear vanished. Riot’s hand fisted in Cass’s hair, yanking his head back against the wall, and the sharp sting of it made Cass gasp. Riot swallowed the sound,his tongue pushing deeper, exploring his mouth with the same intensity he’d used to chase him.
“Good boy,” Riot groaned into his mouth. “Stop fighting it.”
Riot’s thigh pressed between Cass’s legs, and the pressure against his hardness made his knees buckle. He would have fallen if Riot hadn’t been holding him up, and then Cass was grinding down before he could stop himself, chasing the friction as he panted with every roll of his hips.
“Yeah, just like that.” Riot’s hands gripped his hips, guiding the motion. “Take what you need.”
Cass stopped caring about how wet he was and justmoved, rubbing against Riot’s thigh with increasing desperation. He felt completely shameless.
“Beautiful,” Riot breathed, watching his face. “Look at you.”
Then Riot’s hand slid around to his backside, under his soaked underwear, and Cass froze.
Riot’s fingers werethere. Touching Cass where he was wettest and achiest as more fluid—the slick— gushed out.
“What—” His voice came out strangled. “What are you doing?”
“Touching you,” Riot panted, pressing his forehead against the wall beside Cass’s face. “Where you need it.”
“But that’s—I don’t—”
