Chapter 9
Chapter nine
In the Garden of Delusion
Cass
Cass woke to warmth.
Not the feverish, uncomfortable heat that had been plaguing him, but something better—solid and safe, wrapped around him like he belonged there. His cheek was pressed against bare skin, and the scent of strawberries and cream filled his lungs with every breath.
It took him a moment to remember why he was sleeping on top of someone.
Riot.
The events of the previous night filtered back slowly.
The scars. Riot’s scars. The way they’d traced each other’s damage in the dim light, mapping hurts that matched even if they came from different sources.
And then... cuddling. Falling asleep wrapped around each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Cass’s stomach did something strange—a flip or a clench, he couldn’t tell which—and a small sound escaped the back of his throat before he could stop it. A whine, almost, soft and involuntary.
His face heated immediately. Why does that keep happening?
“You’re awake,” Riot said, his voice rough with sleep. His hand was already moving, pressing against Cass’s forehead, fingers threading through his hair. “And your temperature’s still elevated.”
“Mmm.” Cass pressed closer without thinking, chasing the contact. His body felt achy and strange, but Riot’s touch made it better somehow. “You’re warm.”
“You’re burning up.” But Riot’s hand didn’t move away. If anything, his touch became more deliberate, calloused thumb tracing along Cass’s hairline in slow strokes.
That strange sensation happened again—heat spreading outward from everywhere Riot touched—and another soft sound escaped before Cass could swallow it. He pressed his lips together hard, mortified.
“How are you feeling, princess?” Riot asked, helping Cass sit up when his arms trembled with the effort.
“Like someone replaced my bones with overcooked pasta,” Cass managed. Then he noticed the cream-colored cardstock that had been slipped under the hotel door. The thick paper was unmistakable even from across the room. “Oh no.”
Riot followed his gaze. “Stay put.”
The letterhead was definitely Elysian—raw paper with flowing script that Brother Matthias insisted reflected “spiritual elegance.” Riot’s jaw tightened as he read, and Cass watched his knuckles go white where he gripped the message.
“What does it say?”
“Brother Matthias wants to meet. Today. Two o’clock at the Home Away Café.”
Cass’s heart lurched. “What time is it now?”
“A little after noon.”
I slept that long? On top of him?
“I have to go,” Cass said, scrambling to fix his robes, suddenly very aware that he was still shirtless. His scars were just—there, visible, and the room felt too bright and he couldn’t remember where he’d put his—”If I don’t show up, he’ll know something’s wrong—”
“You’re not going anywhere smelling like this.” Riot caught his wrist, pulling him back. “Princess, you’re broadcasting pre-heat like a fucking beacon. If I can barely think straight around you, what do you think your corporate handler will notice?”
Cass flinched at the harsh word, but the grip on his wrist was firm, and his body responded with a rush of heat up his arm. That sound slipped out again—soft, involuntary—and his face flushed darker.
“I still have the wellness supplements,” Cass said, pulling away to grab the bottle from the nightstand. “The ones Brother Matthias gave me. Maybe if I just take them for the meeting...”
Riot went very still. “Those things have been controlling your body for years.”
“But they worked.” The words felt wrong in his mouth, but the familiar shape of the bottle was comforting.
The weight of it in his palm. The way he’d reached for it every morning since he was sixteen without questioning why.
“Maybe I need more than I used to take and that’s why they stopped working.
I’ll take three, just to calm everything down for the meeting. ”
“Don’t.” The single word carried enough authority to freeze Cass in place. Riot moved closer, and suddenly Cass was backed against the wall, very aware that beneath the sweet scent there was still the Berserker scent of cordite. “I’m telling you, princess. Don’t take those.”
“You’re worried about me,” he managed as his stomach churned. “That’s really sweet.”
Something shadowed Riot’s face—frustration, maybe, as his hand came up to Cass’s throat, resting there.
“Sweet,” Riot repeated roughly. “Right.”
“You are.” Cass couldn’t help leaning into the touch, even though his legs felt weak and his stomach ached. “You’ve been taking care of me. I’ve never had anyone worry about me like this before.”
Riot’s thumb pressed against the pulse point in Cass’s throat.
For a moment, they just stared at each other—Riot’s eyes more gold than green, his breathing changed, his gaze intense and focused in an expression that made Cass feel like prey.
His whole body was trembling now, and he didn’t know why.
A high, thin sound escaped him, and his face burned with shame.
What is wrong with me?
It was probably that intensity—and the desperate need to escape sensations he couldn’t name—that made his next decision feel reasonable.
Cass twisted away from Riot’s grip and dry-swallowed three pills before Riot could stop him.
The change in Riot’s expression was immediate. His eyes went flat and predatory, the gold swallowing more of the green.
“That,” Riot said quietly, “was a mistake.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to get through the meeting with Brother Matthias, and then I’ll come right back.”
“I need to check the pharmacy,” Riot grumbled. “They said three days—that’s today. If the shipment came in...”
“Your medication?” Cass felt a pang of guilt. Riot had been taking care of him for days—of course he needed his own supplies. “You should go.”
“I don’t like leaving you alone. Especially not to meet with—” Riot’s jaw tightened so hard Cass could see the muscle jump. “Him.”
“I’ll go straight to the café and straight back,” Cass promised. “Brother Matthias just wants a progress report. It’ll be fine.”
For the next hour, Riot helped Cass prepare with the kind of thorough attention usually reserved for important spiritual ceremonies.
Except this wasn’t about harmony or transcendence—it was about lying convincingly to the man who had guided Cass’s spiritual development for years, and someone Cass secretly considered a father figure.
Not lying, Cass corrected himself. Just... presenting a selective truth.
Riot checked his appearance, adjusting the drape of his robes.
He made him practice his cover story until Cass could recite it without hesitation, then tested his responses to questions Brother Matthias might ask, his expression growing grimmer with each rehearsal.
But his hands kept finding reasons to touch.
Adjusting Cass’s collar. Smoothing his hair.
Checking his pulse “to make sure the pills aren’t causing adverse reactions. ”
“Remember,” Riot said, his hands settling on Cass’s shoulders as they prepared to leave. His grip was firm, almost too tight. “Keep the story simple. You’ve been working on recruitment, making slow progress.”
“I remember.”
“And if he asks about your health—”
“Minor stomach bug from Neutral Zone food.”
“And if anything feels wrong—”
“I leave immediately.” Cass looked up at Riot. “It’s just Brother Matthias. Everything will be fine.”
Riot’s hands moved from his shoulders to frame his face, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. “Don’t talk to anyone else,” Riot said softly. “Don’t stop anywhere.”
“Okay,” Cass whispered.
Riot’s forehead pressed against his for just a moment—warm, solid, like an anchor in a world that kept tilting sideways. Then he stepped back abruptly, leaving Cass feeling strangely hollow.
“Go,” Riot said roughly. “Before I change my mind.”
The café was as crowded as Cass remembered. Brother Matthias had secured the same corner booth, looking pristine despite the questionable surroundings. His earth-toned robes were immaculate as always, his hair perfectly arranged, and his expression one of gentle spiritual concern.
“Brother Cassiopeia.” He rose to embrace Cass with warmth. “You look... different.”
Cass’s heart stuttered. “Different?”
“Your energy.” Brother Matthias’s sharp eyes studied his face. “It’s clouded. Disrupted. There’s something foreign in your aura.”
“I’ve been ill,” Cass said quickly. “There’s a flu going around the Neutral Zone. And the local food doesn’t agree with me.”
“Hmm.” Brother Matthias didn’t look convinced, but he gestured for Cass to sit. “Tell me about your recruitment efforts.”
Cass recited the lies he’d practiced, weaving stories of slow progress and promising contacts. The words felt strange in his mouth—he’d never been good at deception, and always believed that spiritual truth required honesty in all things.
But Riot had helped him practice, and if he mentioned he was sharing a room with a Berserker, Brother Matthias might get the wrong idea about how his mission was going.
Cass tried to project the kind of serene confidence that would convince his mentor everything was proceeding normally.
“Your spiritual resonance is... off,” Brother Matthias said when Cass finished. “Even accounting for illness. Have you been taking your wellness supplements regularly?”
“Yes, Brother Matthias.” It’s technically true. I took some today. It’s not a lie.
“And yet something has changed.” His gaze narrowed. “Have you been spending time with people resistant to our message more than required? Sometimes exposure to spiritually unaligned individuals can contaminate one’s energy field if there is no effort being made on their part to change.”
Riot’s scent. Riot’s hands. Riot’s voice saying “there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“No one significant,” Cass said, and he hated how easily the lie came.