But the thought of dulling his senses when Cass was in heat, when Cassneededhim, when they still didn’t know what Brother Matthias might do next—
By the time they reached the room, Riot’s nails had carved bloody crescents into both palms, deep enough that blood was dripping slowly onto the carpet. Riot handed him the spare keycard from his pocket and Cass fumbled with it, his hands shaking too badly to line it up properly. Lilac took it and opened the door, ushering him inside with a hand that didn’t touch his back.
“Why don’t you get cleaned up and dressed?” she said. “Take your time. We’ll be right here.”
Cass nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. The lock clicked.
The moment he was gone, Riot let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His whole body was shaking with the effort of keeping himself contained.Kick her out. Lock the door. Wait for him to come out of the bathroom and—
He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought. His eyes were probably still glowing. He couldn’t seem to make them stop.
Lilac rounded on him the moment the bathroom door closed.
“Talk. Fast.”
“Elysian.” Riot kept his voice low, fighting to focus on her face—on the void of her scent—instead of the bathroom door. “BornElysian. Some kind of missionary. They had him on industrial-grade suppressants. He didn’t even know what they were.”
“And?”
“And they stopped working. His heat hit.” Riot’s jaw tightened. “I was trying to help.”
“In a stairwell.” Lilac’s voice was flat. “With your finger inside him.”
“He ran. I chased.” The words came out flat, controlled. “You know what that triggers.”
Lilac studied him for a long moment, her dark eyes missing nothing. “Your suppressants?”
“Syndicate’s been fucking with my supply.” He didn’t mention the vials in his pocket.
“So you’re both running hot and neither of you has any working chemical help.” She shook her head. “Perfecto. What else?”
Riot hesitated. How much to tell her? How much did she need to know?
“The bandages?”
Riot’s jaw tightened until his teeth ached. “One of their handlers does it…he calls it a negative energy release.”
Lilac’s expression went flat and dangerous—the look she got when she was thinking about hurting someone. “How long?”
“Eight years. Since he was sixteen.” Riot’s voice came out rough.
Something flickered across Lilac’s face—recognition, maybe.
“And you care about him,” she said quietly.
Riot didn’t answer. He couldn’t, really. Because “care” felt too small for whatever was clawing at his chest—this ball of wantand protectiveness and guilt that he couldn’t seem to untangle no matter how hard he tried. He shouldn’t want Cass this badly. The kid was so naive it hurt. He didn’t know anything about his own body, didn’t understand what his responses meant, and didn’t have the first clue what Riot wanted to do to him. Every touch had been Cass’s first, every sensation brand new, and Riot had been the one introducing him to all of it while Cass cried and trembled and asked innocent questions that made Riot’s brain short-circuit.
He should feel worse about that than he did.
But the way he looked at me. The way he said “please.” The way his body opened up and took my finger like he was made for it—
The bathroom door opened, and Riot’s train of thought derailed completely.
Cass emerged in his Elysian robes, moving carefully, and he kept shifting his weight like he couldn’t get comfortable. But his scent had calmed somewhat—still that rich heat-sweetness, but not the overwhelming spike of active arousal.
“Better?” Lilac asked.
Cass nodded, but his face told a different story. He was hovering near the bathroom door, arms wrapped around himself, and even from across the room Riot could see the way his thighs were pressed together. The way he kept shifting his weight. The flush that hadn’t faded at all.
