What are you doing. Stop talking.
“Riot.” Lilac snapped. “I swear to God—”
Cass looked at him with something like hope mixed with uncertainty. “Really?”
No.
“Really.”
Cass didn’t need to be told twice. He shifted across the seat until he was pressed against Riot’s side, and the moment they made contact, something in his expression eased. The lines of pain around his eyes softened. His breathing deepened. The trembling in his hands gradually stilled. The press of his body against Riot’s side was heaven and hell combined.
“You’re really warm,” Cass murmured, already sounding more settled. “Is that a Berserker thing or... or a you thing?”
“Both, probably,” Riot managed, his voice coming out rougher than intended. Every cell in his body was screamingmineat the weight of Cass against his side.
“Dios mío,“ Lilac muttered from the front seat. “I’m going to need to fumigate this car.”
“Sorry,” Cass said, pulling back slightly. “I’m sorry, I know I smell—”
“She’s teasing,” Riot said, tugging him back against his side. His hand found Cass’s hip, fingers digging in harder than strictly necessary. “You smell fine.”
“He smells like a heat bomb about to go off,” Lilac corrected, her eyes finding Riot’s in the mirror with a clear warning. “And you smell like a rut about to break through two doses of suppressants, so maybe we could all just try to keep it together for another couple hours, yeah?”
“I’m sorry for being so much trouble, Miss Lilac,” Cass said softly.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the deteriorating countryside rolling past outside the windows. The road had gotten worse—cracked pavement giving way to gravel in places, forcing Lilac to slow down and navigate carefully.
I could just pull him into my lap right now. He wouldn’t complain. He’d be grateful. He’s so wet and ready for me. I could put that circlet on his beautiful head and announce my claim like a wedding bell. Lilac has to drive. What’s she going to do? Pull over?
Good. I could fuck him in this backseat while she waits outside.
“If Nulls don’t have designations,” Cass asked eventually, his voice slightly dreamy, “how do they know who to... to marry? Without tests telling them who’s compatible?”
“They talk to each other,” Lilac called from the front. “They spend time together and figure out if they actually like each other as people.”
“That’s how people decided before the Great Adjustment, supposedly,” Riot added. “Compatibility. Attraction. Shared values. Actually getting to know someone instead of relying on biological programming.”
“But that seems...” Cass paused, shifting and squirming until his face pressed against Riot’s collarbone. “That seems harder. How do you know if you’re making the right choice?”
“You don’t, always,” Riot admitted. “But at least you’re choosing based on who someone actually is. Not just how they smell.”
Cass was quiet, processing. Then: “Is that better? Making mistakes because you chose wrong, instead of being told who you’re supposed to be with?”
The question hit harder than Riot expected. “Yeah, princess. I think it is.”
“Oh.” Cass’s hand found Riot’s and laced their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. “That’s not what Brother Matthias taught me. He said doubt was a sign of spiritual weakness. That true harmony came from accepting your designated path.”
Riot ran his fingers through Cass’s hair, trying to use the motion to quiet his mind. “I’m not sure we should trust his definition of harmony.”
Cass tilted his head back to look up at Riot, studying his face with an unnerving intensity.
“Your eyes do something when you look at me,” he said.
Riot went very still. “What do you mean?”
“The gold flecks get brighter. And they glowed in the stairwell. When you were chasing me.” There was no fear in his voice—just curiosity. “Do all Berserkers’ eyes do that?”
“No. Just a few Protocol Endeavor survivors.”
