Chapter 17 #2
Riot is leaning against the wall like he owns the damn hallway, hat on backward, arms crossed, tattoos peeking out from his loose cut-off shirt, and that damn smirk lighting up his face like Christmas came early.
He looks me up and down, eyes dropping immediately to my bare legs. His smirk deepens, eyes flickering with mischief and something far more feral.
“Well, damn, Hellcat.” His voice is thick with heat. “If I’d known you were answering the door like that, I wouldn’t have knocked so politely.” He takes a step closer, his gaze dragging up my body, lingering on every inch he can get away with.
I roll my eyes and open it wider, stepping out just enough for the hallway light to hit the marks Jasper’s mouth left across my neck.
He tips his head, studying the bruises blooming across my neck, and then glances over my shoulder—just enough to clock Jasper standing behind me, shirtless and still bristling with possessiveness.
“By the way,” Riot says, grinning wickedly, “next time you’re gonna talk about my cock while you’re fucking her, maybe close the damn window.”
Jasper stiffens behind me, and I swear I feel his hand twitch on my waist.
Riot’s smirk sharpens. “Whole damn tour probably knows you want her sucking me off while you wreck her. Hell, I could barely finish jerking off outside the bus with the way you were going off like a porn soundtrack.” His eyes drop to me, voice like sin.
“You sounded wrecked, Angel. Begged so sweetly.”
Jasper growls behind me, jaw ticking.
“And now you know what that did to me,” Riot adds, eyes locked on mine. “So go ahead, Reign—keep pretending she’s just yours. I already got off to the sound of her moaning your name.” He winks. “Next time, maybe I’ll be inside with you.”
My breath catches, stomach tightening, every inch of me thrumming with anticipation and something dangerously close to need.
“She’s not yours, Riot.” Jasper’s voice is low, dangerous—a warning and a claim all at once. His hand lands heavy on my hip, yanking me back a step, just enough that my body presses against his, like he needs to feel me to believe I’m still his.
Riot just laughs, eyes glittering with challenge. “She’s not yours either, man. Yet here we are.”
He grins, flashing teeth, every bit the devil I’ve always suspected he was. His hand trails the doorframe, fingers drumming, restless.
I close my eyes, heart racing.
And for the first time in my life…I think I want to be the fire these two are fighting to burn in.
***
“Wait,” Ash says, while climbing into the van. “He’s actually coming with us?”
“I didn’t think we seriously invited him,” Jace adds, shoving a handful of Sour Patch Kids in his mouth, jaw working like it’s the only thing holding back a grin.
“I would’ve invited myself anyway,” Riot says smoothly from beside me, leaning back like he belongs there. His knees splay wide, body relaxed, but his eyes flicker sideways—watching me.
Jace flips him off.
“Can we vote him off the island?” Ash asks, lips twisted in fake disgust, but there’s an edge of laughter beneath it.
“Nope,” Riot pops the “p” as he stretches, his shirt rising just enough to flash some skin, a slash of ink across his lower belly, the top of his V. My eyes linger before I remember to look away.
Jasper says nothing—just drums his fingers on the steering wheel like it’s taking everything in him not to turn the van around and throw Riot out right here. His other hand, though? Resting firm and warm on my thigh.
“You’re staying at Jasper’s house?” Silas cuts in from the third row. “You sure about that? I don’t think they offer medical insurance for getting murdered in your sleep.”
“Don’t worry,” Riot smirks, eyes cutting to me. “I won’t be sleeping much.”
My breath caught—heat spiking everywhere, heart hammering. Riot’s stare is heavy, promising, and I can feel Jasper tense beside me, hand flexing against my thigh, grip tightening for just a second.
He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to.
Jace makes a fake gagging sound, Ash mutters, “I hope you’re both ready to die,” and Silas snorts, shaking his head.
The banter keeps going, but I am officially too busy trying to keep my insides from boiling over. Riot’s thigh presses hot against mine, Jasper’s hand is still possessive on my leg, the van thick with testosterone and threat and want.
The van turns a last corner, and I go completely still.
We’re not pulling up to a house. We’re arriving at a fortress.
Black wrought-iron gates stand between us and a long drive that winds through trees too tall to be natural.
The headlights sweep across stone pillars and twisting shadows.
The mansion at the end looks like it belongs in a rockstar’s fever dream.
Stone and shadow, balconies and sharp angles, ivy snaking up one side like the house is being reclaimed by something older than time.
Windows flicker with warm light, too many to count, stretching upward into the night.
It’s beautiful… and terrifying.
For a second, I feel like I’m outside myself, watching this scene unfold: the misfit photographer, fresh on break from tour with the hottest band in the world, about to walk into a place that looks like secrets are its currency.
Jasper stops the van in front of the massive double doors and kills the engine. Nobody moves. The silence is thick enough to choke on. Even Riot looks a little taken aback.
“I feel like this is where a final boss fight happens,” I mutter.
“Technically, you already beat one,” Ash says with a smirk. “But hey, this one might spank you for it.”
My face flushes hotter than it had any right to.
“She’d like that,” Riot murmurs in my ear, just loud enough for only me to hear.
“Enough,” Jasper growls as he opens the driver’s door.
He doesn’t look back. His hand was there before I could even breathe, helping me out.
“This is where you live?” I whisper, awe and nerves tangled in my voice as I stare up at the impossible house. The windows watch me like eyes.
He nods once. “Yeah.”
“You brought me here?”
Something unreadable passes behind his eyes. “You belong here.”
The world narrows to his hand on my skin and the doors waiting to swallow me whole.
It’s so beautiful, I wonder if I’d ever want to leave.
I follow them up the steps, heart pounding as the doors open like they’re hiding secrets.
My shoes hit black marble, cool and polished to a wicked shine. Everything echoes: footsteps, laughter, the rush of blood in my ears. My breath caught in my throat.
A sweeping staircase straight out of a gothic fairytale curls up from the entryway, railings carved with thorns and roses.
The walls are covered in dark art, pieces that are painted in shadow or pain—or both.
Faces blurred with anguish. Monsters disguised as men.
A chandelier drips black crystals above us, catching the light in fractured sparks, scattering it across the floors in ghostly shapes.
“This is…” I trail off, spinning in a slow circle as the guys file in behind me, dropping bags and cracking jokes.
“Holy shit,” Ash says, loud as ever. “Every time I’m here, I feel like I need to take my shoes off and sell my soul at the same time.”
“I’ll take that deal,” Jace mutters. “As long as it comes with one of those bedrooms with blackout curtains.”
My heart hammers, every sense sharp. This place is dangerous and seductive, like being swallowed up by something that shouldn’t want you, but does.
“This place is insane,” I breathe.
Riot leans in close to whisper in my ear. “Bet he has a dungeon.”
“Don’t give her ideas,” Jasper says darkly, his voice low behind us.
“I didn’t say it was for her,” Riot teases.
“Don’t make me rearrange your face before dinner.”
“Boys,” Silas calls from deeper in the house. “Take it to the gym if you’re gonna whip ‘em out. I’m too old to watch a dick-measuring contest in the foyer.”
That shut them both up—for about five seconds.
Jace snorts, muttering something under his breath about rockstars and drama, and Ash just cackles, shaking his head.
“Alright,” Jasper exhales, moving past us and gesturing. “Sawyer, come on. I’ll show you around.”
Riot follows like a shadow, his shoulder brushing mine, eyes never leaving me.
“Not you,” Jasper adds over his shoulder, not breaking stride.
Riot grins. “Not leaving her side, remember? You said I could play.”
I bite back a laugh. Jasper does not. He glares like he’s already plotting how to get me alone.
The tour is quick but overwhelming—library, recording room, kitchen bigger than any apartment I’d ever lived in.
Every room echoed with music and secrets, with pieces of Jasper’s life scattered everywhere: platinum records on the walls, battered notebooks piled on tables, half-finished lyrics scrawled in the margins.
The upstairs hallway is lined with doors, and I already know mine before he even tells me.
Dark walls, soft and matte, swallow the light.
A massive bed with black sheets, messy and inviting.
One of his guitars sits in the corner, waiting for a midnight confession.
Dim lighting washes the space in warm shadow, and on the highest shelf, an old camera—my favorite kind—rests in a pool of gold, waiting just for me.
“You… set this up for me?” I ask, touching the edge of the blanket.
Jasper’s jaw flexes. “Yeah. But hopefully, you’ll spend most of your time in my room.” His gaze meets mine, hot and heavy, like a promise and a challenge in one breath.
Before I can respond, Riot’s voice comes from behind us. “Cool. So where’s my room?”
Our heads turn.
Jace pops his head in. “You’re in the attic.” He grins, tongue between his teeth, trying not to laugh.
Ash smirks from behind him. “There’s a shed out back, actually. Very punk rock. You’ll love it.”
“I’m serious,” Riot says, folding his arms. “Where am I staying?”
Jasper is silent for a beat too long.
Then Silas, bless him, calls up from the first floor, “Put him in the guest room across from hers!”