Chapter 9
We were at the beach.
My upper body was resting on a blanket on my stomach, but my legs were on the powdery white sand, sun beating down on my exposed back. Was I wearing a bikini? It definitely felt like I was, but that couldn’t be right. I’d never worn a bikini in my life. Mother would have a stroke.
There were voices around me—masculine ones that I didn’t recognize—but my head was turned away from them, looking out at the expanse of ocean in front of me. Whoever they were, I must have trusted them because I felt completely relaxed.
A rich, deep laugh filled the air and I knew instantly it was Riot’s. I’d never heard him so happy, and the sound warmed me even more than the sun did. He was talking to someone, and whoever it was, he obviously got along well with them.
“You need lotion, Grace,” a low voice murmured from above me, sending a tremor of desire through my body. It was a deep, rumbly baritone sound I didn’t recognize, and it almost sounded raspy from lack of use.
“Any excuse,” someone else teased affectionately.
“Avoiding sunburn is a reasonable excuse,” the deep voice replied wryly.
I should tell him I could put it on myself, it was entirely inappropriate for someone else to do it—where was Riot?
Was he okay with this?—but the man’s enormous hands began massaging lotion on the back of my thighs and I forgot how to speak.
His fingertips were so high up, it was just shy of being indecent, and the thumbs that began rubbing circles on my inner thighs were unquestionably indecent.
I still didn’t tell him to stop.
A breathy sigh escaped me, and Riot chuckled. “Careful, Gracie. This is a public beach.”
That should bother me, yet I couldn’t have cared less who was watching at that moment. Let them watch. Let them see the trust and happiness and love that was here. How could anything so wonderful be something to feel ashamed of?
I tried to turn my head back to see whose hands were on me, but it felt like an invisible weight was keeping it pressed to the blanket, forcing me to stay still. The more I tried to push my head up, the harder the invisible force pushed back.
“You can’t see their faces yet because I can’t see their faces yet,” a musical voice said.
He sounded different from the others—like he’d pulled himself out of the vision to speak into my ear.
The hands massaging lotion down the back of my legs continued to move as though the man hadn’t heard anything.
At that moment, Riot walked around the front of the blanket, shooting me a cocksure smile as he passed. I wanted to giggle at the sight of him in a tank top and shorts, the colorful tattoos all down his legs on display.
“Except him,” the disembodied voice chuckled. “Him, I can see now.”
“Why can’t I see you?” I breathed. Surely the mysterious voice could envision himself.
“You always ask me that question,” he replied affectionately. “Every time I show you one of these visions. And the answer is always the same.”
“What’s the answer?”
“I don’t know if I’ll be part of this future,” he replied wistfully. I could feel his sorrow—it was so powerful that the whole vision began to change. Dark clouds rolled in over the blue sky, the gentle lap of the waves turned into crashes like thunder.
“It’s time to go, Amazing Grace,” the voice said softly. “Riot is home.”
“Wait,” I breathed, thrashing on the blanket as the wind whipped up the sand. Every part of the dream scattered into nothingness, slipping faster through my fingers the harder I tried to grasp it.
“Grace. Gracie, wake up,” Riot murmured softly, his breath fanning over my face.
I woke and sat up with a start, gripping the thin throw from the couch to my chest and panting like I’d run a marathon, just barely missing headbutting Riot because he flung himself backwards.
“Sorry!” I squeaked.
“That’s okay,” he replied, huffing a quiet laugh. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Were you having a bad dream?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied, frowning. “I don’t really have bad dreams, but I never remember what they’re about.”
Though I had this strange sensation that I should . It had felt important somehow. It had felt so real . There was a beach. I definitely recalled a beach. I discreetly rubbed my calves together, half expecting to feel the grit of sand on my skin, and felt almost disappointed when I didn’t.
I gasped in surprise as strong arms scooped me into the air, my hands grabbing aimlessly to stop myself from falling, eventually settling on a cotton shirt pulled taut over solid muscles.
“Sorry,” Riot said, not sounding very sorry at all as he bundled me in closer. “You’ll be more comfortable in your bed, and I was going to die if I didn’t get my hands on you.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” I sighed, my body relaxing instantly and my head falling to his shoulder.
The logical part of my brain told me I barely knew this guy and I shouldn’t feel so comfortable, but the heaviness that had plagued me all day dissipated like it had never been there and I felt like I could finally breathe again after hours apart. All logic went out the window.
“I wondered if you were coming back,” I said quietly as Riot carefully laid me down on the bed and tucked me under the blankets.
It was technically true—I had wondered—but even then, I had felt strangely calm about it.
Like even if Riot had panicked and ran, it wouldn’t have been the end of us anyway, just a little breather.
Whatever this was, it definitely didn’t feel done yet.
I’d still kept myself busy until I’d collapsed with exhaustion on the couch while I waited though.
The apartment was spotless, my plants were happy, my nails were now pearlescent pink instead of ballet blush pink, and the whole place smelled like vanilla wax melts.
There had been something quite cathartic about tidying and getting the house in order after being so thoroughly thrown off my routine these past couple of days.
My heart stopped for a second as Riot straightened and I thought he was going to leave, but he began undoing his jeans instead and my heart reacted for a whole different reason.
I wondered if he usually kept his shirt on to sleep or if he was just doing that to make me more comfortable. There was definitely part of me—the dark, bad part—that would have been more comfortable with him sans shirt. Sans all clothes, really.
The ring on my finger seemed to dig into my skin at that impure thought.
“I was later at the studio than I’d planned,” Riot explained, and I could hear the grimace in his voice. “Did you really think I’d just bail on you, Gracie?”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” I told him as he moved around the bed and climbed in next to me. “Or if you at least wanted some space. I have sort of upended your whole life.”
I wasn’t entirely confident space was an option—the physical discomfort would be unbearable—but I’d try if that’s what Riot wanted.
“Nope,” Riot replied confidently, pulling me into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Not that I had a whole lot going on anyway, but I guarantee you there’s nowhere I’d rather be. I’m not sure I can be so generous. You might be stuck with me, Gracie.”
I snuggled in closer, not wanting to admit how happy that idea made me. It had felt like a million years since I’d seen him, yet also like we’d never been apart.
Riot exhaled quietly, and I wondered if he was feeling the same rush of physical relief that I was feeling at being together again.
We barely knew each other , a small voice in the back of my head reminded me.
How did I know which feelings belonged to me, and which were being pushed upon us by the outside force that had brought us together?
Had my parents felt this way when they met? Surely, anyone would feel a little overwhelmed at such a sudden influx of intense emotions. Why didn’t they ever talk about it though? If this was a soul bond, if it really was such a coveted gift, why was it so shrouded in secrecy?
If I had learned anything from the past few days with Riot, it was that I had let too much go by unquestioned.
My mother had worked hard to train my questioning nature out of me when I was a kid, but I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I was annoyed at myself for accepting so many things, even when they’d made me unhappy.
Especially when I knew now that there was more waiting for me if I’d just reach out and grab it.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I dreamed of exactly that.
* * *
Considering how awake I’d been, I was surprised that I fell back asleep at some point and didn’t rouse until my alarm went off.
Riot was lying on his back, one arm bent behind his head in a way that really showed off his bulging arm muscles to maximum effect.
Unsurprisingly, I was sprawled all over him again like he was my personal pillow, but I forced myself not to get embarrassed about it this time.
He’d been very clear that he didn’t mind me snuggling up to him, and it provided a welcome reprieve from the discomfort of being away from him during the day.
Just like a soul bond would experience.
I wasn’t even sure why I was fighting the idea of us being soul bonds.
Even if it were inconvenient for that to be the case, it wasn’t like me to deny the truth that was right in front of my face just because it was inconvenient.
Usually, I was good at confronting uncomfortable realities, at least in my own head, even if I didn’t vocalize them.
My entire life was a series of uncomfortable realities.
Maybe it was because I wasn’t the only one affected this time.
Riot’s whole life would change too, and it was quite possibly my fault considering I’d been the one who’d asked the Goddess of Night for help.
Something which I had yet to casually work into conversation, but definitely would. At some point.