Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Breaking Point
Cass
“I can fix this,” he said. “I know Brother Matthias said the thigh treatments would help, but maybe I need more sessions. Maybe if I ask him to do additional release points, or if he increases the frequency, or—”
“Cass. Stop.”
I wish the Chrysalis program had worked on me.
The thought rose unbidden, and Cass felt his chest crack open.
He’d resisted it for so long—the final treatment that would have made him the partner Honey deserved.
Brother Matthias said his mind was too resistant, too attached to earthly confusion, but maybe that was just another way of saying Cass was too broken to be fixed.
If the Chrysalis had worked, he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be sitting half-naked in front of a Berserker, covered in wounds and shame. He’d be home. He’d be happy. He’d be normal.
Why can’t I do anything right?
“I’m sorry,” Cass whispered again, voice breaking on a sob. “I know you’re angry with me. I know this is exactly the kind of earthly attachment that proves I’m not worthy—”
“Cass.” Riot’s voice dropped into quiet intensity. “Look at me.”
Cass looked up through his tears, bracing himself for disgust. For disappointment. For Riot to finally realize that Cass wasn’t worth the trouble and walk away.
“You’re not broken,” Riot said. The words came out rough, like they cost him something. “And I’m not angry with you.”
“But you look—”
Riot made a sound that wasn’t a laugh. “I look like I’m about to do something really fucking stupid.”
Before Cass could ask what that meant, Riot was moving, rising from his knees, his hands leaving Cass’s thighs to cup his face instead. And then Riot’s mouth was on his.
Cass’s brain became quiet.
The kiss was nothing like the gentle, spiritual connections described in partnership seminars.
This was hard and demanding, Riot’s lips pressing against his with an urgency that stole the air from Cass’s lungs.
One of Riot’s hands slid into his hair, gripping tight, tilting his head back at an angle that made his neck ache.
When Cass gasped in surprise, Riot’s tongue pushed into his mouth.
Oh.
The thought came dim and distant through the alcohol haze and the fever burning under his skin. Oh. This is—
Nothing in his education had prepared him for the sensation of someone else’s tongue sliding against his own, for the taste of alcohol and something uniquely Riot that made him want to chase it deeper.
His hands came up without his permission, clutching at Riot’s shoulders because his whole body had decided to melt like butter in the sun.
The hollow ache in his belly was still there, but now it had a focus. Like it had been waiting for exactly this.
Riot made a low growl against his mouth, and the hand in Cass’s hair tightened. The sharp tug sent a jolt down Cass’s spine—pain that somehow became pleasure before it reached his brain—and he gasped again. Riot swallowed the sound, kissing him deeper.
This feels good.
The realization was startling. Not just good—right in a way nothing had ever felt right before, even better than when Riot pulled his hair. It was as if his body had been waiting his whole life for exactly this, and now that it was happening, every nerve ending was lighting up with recognition.
But even as his body melted into the contact, even as that aching emptiness finally found a focus, Cass became aware of warmth between his legs. Wetness soaking through his underwear, spreading, and increasing and dripping.
He jerked back from the kiss with a broken sound, one hand flying to touch his swollen lips while the other pressed against the spreading dampness.
“What—” His voice came out high and panicked. “Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong with me.”
He looked down, expecting blood from the wounds. Expecting some new horror his body had decided to produce. But the wetness didn’t look red. It was clear, soaking through the thin fabric until it clung obscenely, and there was so much of it.
“I’m—I don’t know what’s happening.” Fresh tears spilled over, panic rising in his chest.
Riot’s expression had shifted. The gold in his eyes seemed brighter now, and he made a low sound in his chest. The air in the room felt different. Heavier. Charged with something that made Cass shiver.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Riot’s groaned. “Your body is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.”
“But I’m—there’s—” Cass looked down at the wetness again. “This isn’t normal.”
“It’s normal.” Riot’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white, and he was breathing hard like he’d been running. “What you’re feeling is completely normal for an Omega.”
“But Brother Matthias never said—”
“Fuck Brother Matthias.” The words were snarled with such sudden violence that Cass flinched backward, fresh fear cutting through everything else.
“I need to think,” Cass gasped, scrambling off the chair. His legs felt shaky and weak, and his underwear was clinging to him in ways that made his face burn even hotter. “I need to figure out what’s happening to me—”
He tried to move past Riot toward the bathroom, toward anywhere he could be alone. But a large hand shot out and caught his wrist.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I just need a minute,” Cass whispered, staring up at Riot with wide eyes. The height difference had never felt so pronounced. “To figure out—”
“No.” The single word was a command. Riot’s grip on his wrist didn’t tighten, but he tugged, pulling Cass a step closer until their bodies were almost touching. “You need to stay here. Where I can see you.”
“Why?” Cass squeaked.
Riot didn’t answer immediately. His gold eyes tracked over Cass’s face, down his body—lingering on the wet spot spreading across his underwear—back up again with an intensity that made Cass feel like he was being devoured.
“Because I want to kiss you again,” Riot finally said. “And I need you to tell me if that’s okay.”
Cass’s heart was hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat, in his temples, in the wounds still throbbing on his thighs.
His body was still doing things—the wetness between his legs getting worse, the heat spreading through his belly, the way his skin seemed to ache for contact.
He didn’t understand any of it and didn’t know if it was good or bad or dangerous.
But when he thought about the kiss...when he remembered how it had felt to have Riot’s mouth on his, Riot’s hand in his hair...
“Yes,” he whispered. “Please.”
The kiss was different this time. Harder. More desperate. Riot’s free hand came up to grip Cass’s jaw, holding him in place while his mouth took and took and took. There was nothing gentle about it—just raw hunger that should have been terrifying.
Part of it was terrifying. The sheer size of Riot, the strength in his hands, the sounds he was making against Cass’s mouth.
This was a Berserker. A man who could kill without effort, who Cass read warning after warning about, and now Cass was pressed against his chest while Riot kissed him like he wanted to consume him.
But another part—a part Cass had never known existed—wanted more.
When Riot’s teeth caught his lower lip and bit down, Cass let out a whimper that became a moan, rising from deep in his chest. Instead of being embarrassed, his body arched into the contact, chasing the sharp pleasure-pain.
“That’s it,” Riot growled against his mouth. “Let me hear you.”
His whole life, he’d been told to suppress his responses, to release the negative energy, to strive for transcendence beyond earthly desires. But Riot wanted his sounds. Wanted his responses. He wanted more of exactly what Cass had been taught was wrong.
The next time Riot pulled his hair, Cass didn’t stifle the moan. When Riot’s mouth moved to his jaw and his neck, teeth scraping over sensitive skin, Cass let himself whimper and press closer.
“Good,” Riot breathed against his throat. “So good, princess.”
The praise made warmth bloom in Cass’s chest even as fresh wetness leaked down his legs.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, trying to pull back. “I’m getting it all over you—I don’t know how to make it stop—”
“Don’t apologize.”
“But your clothes will—I’m making such a mess—”
Riot’s hand slid down, trailing through the wetness running down Cass’s inner thighs. Cass froze, his eyes going wide, as Riot brought glistening fingers up between them.
“You know what this tells me?” Riot’s voice dropped to a husky murmur. “That your body knows exactly what it wants. It’s called slick, princess. And it’s supposed to happen.”
Before Cass could respond, Riot licked his fingers.
The sight was so shocking, so intimate, that Cass felt the ache in his belly grow. Riot hummed in approval, his eyes never leaving Cass’s as he sucked his fingers clean with a deliberate slowness.
“Perfect,” he breathed. “Sweeter than I imagined.”
He leaned in, crushing another kiss to Cass’s lips, and Cass could taste himself on Riot’s tongue.
“Taste how good you are,” Riot whispered against his mouth before lifting him from the ground.
Cass’s legs wrapped around Riot’s waist on instinct alone, not wanting to fall, and the position changed everything—suddenly there was thick hardness in Riot’s pants pressing directly against where Cass was wet and aching, separated only by thin fabric.
“Oh—” The sound punched out of him, high and startled.
“I’ve got you.” Riot nipped at his neck. “Hold onto me.”
He walked them toward the bed, and every step made their bodies shift together in ways that had Cass gasping. By the time Riot sat down on the edge of the mattress with Cass straddling his lap, Cass was trembling so hard he could barely hold on.
“Riot.” His voice came out shaky, desperate. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” Riot’s hands settled on his hips, his fingers digging in. “Just feel.”
And then Riot rolled his hips upward.
The pressure against that hollow ache—Cass couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—
A sound tore out of him that he’d never made before. His whole body shuddered, and more wetness flooded between his legs, enough that he could feel it seeping through onto Riot’s pants.
“There you go, that’s it, princess. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
He did it again and again, setting a slow, grinding rhythm that had Cass clutching at his shoulders and making embarrassing sounds with every movement. There was a tickle and an ache that was building toward something—Cass didn’t know what—but each roll of Riot’s hips wound it tighter in his core.
“Please,” he gasped. “Please, please—”
Riot groaned and pulled Cass’s hips down harder, grinding up at the same time. The pressure was intense, almost painful, and Cass felt that coiling thing climbing higher—
What is that? What’s happening to me?
Fear crashed through him.
“Stop—” The word came out panicked. “Riot, it feels weird—”
“I know.” Riot’s hands squeezed him harder, his cheeks bright pink as he leaned in to kiss Cass’s neck. “Let it happen.”
“I can’t—”
“It’s okay. It’s supposed to—”
“No!” The word came out raw, desperate. He tried to pull back, tried to get away from the overwhelming sensations. “I can’t—it feels like I’m going to break apart—”
Riot’s grip loosened immediately, his expression shifting from predatory hunger to something like concern. But Cass was already falling backward, his whole body shaking with the need to escape before that climbing thing reached its peak.
“Hey—” Riot reached for him, but Cass was already off his lap, bare feet hitting the cold floor. “Cass, wait—”
“I need air.” His voice cracked. “I just need—I can’t—air. I need air—”
He was babbling, tears streaming down his face, his body still throbbing with that unfulfilled need. Part of him wanted to crawl back into Riot’s lap and let whatever was building finally crest, but the fear was bigger. The unknown was too much.
“Princess.” Riot rose slowly from the bed, the gold in his eyes still bright, his body still coiled with tension. “Don’t run.”
Cass took another instinctive step back, his hand finding the wall behind him. “I’m not—I just need to clear my head—”
“What you need,” Riot said, taking a measured step forward, “is to stay.”
The words sent a shiver through Cass. His body was still screaming for something—that hollow ache worse than ever now, the climbing sensation receded but not gone, just waiting to build again.
“Why?” he whispered.
Riot’s eyes, more gold than green, tracked Cass’s every small movement. “Because if you run from me right now, I will chase you.” His voice was deceptively soft, at odds with the intensity of his gaze. “And neither of us is ready for what happens when I catch you.”
The words sent heat flooding through Cass’s system—more wetness dripped down his legs, that hollow ache pulsing with sudden, desperate need. His body was responding to the threat like it was a promise.
“What happens if you catch me?” Cass asked, unable to help himself.
Riot’s smile was all teeth. “You really want to find out?”
The question hung in the air between them, charged with something dangerous and thrilling. For a heartbeat, Cass stood frozen, caught between the terror and the desperate curiosity about what came next.
His body made the decision for him and he bolted for the door.