Page 53 of Riot

But I knew this was only the beginning.

Chapter 15

ALLURE

Steam curled around me like a soft exhale as I stood under the rainfall shower head, letting the hot water beat down on my skin. The shower floor was heated and my nostrils opened at the scent of eucalyptus drifting up from the soap I lathered between my fingers. My body was still catching up to what my mind already knew.

I was free.

Not in a dream. Not in a fantasy I’d conjured while staring out a window or folding laundry for Boaz. This was real. The ache in my feet from walking through the club. The weight of Riot’s hand on my skin. The heat of the water as it traced every curve of my body. All real.

And yet… I still didn’t know how to feel.

My hand rose to my chest, just over my heart. It was beating steady but hard, like it was trying to break out. For the first time in ten years, I didn’t have to cook for anyone. I didn’t have to bathe anyone else. I didn’t have to serve or smile or bow my head. I didn’t have to answer toVirgin.

I wasn’t his.

I was mine.

Tears slipped down my cheeks before I realized I was crying. They mixed with the water, slid down my neck and over my breasts, disappearing into the drain. My knees weakened, and I leaned my forehead against the cool tile.

So many years. So much stolen. And now?

Now I had no idea what came next.

I wanted to find my family. I needed to see my father and mother. I needed to know if the people who loved me even remembered me—if they still wanted me.

Would they recognize me after everything?

Would I recognize myself?

I closed my eyes, grounding myself in the now. The sound of the water. The heat pressing against my muscles. The faint scent of him in the air.

Riot was everything Boaz wasn’t. Warm where Boaz was cold. Gentle where Boaz had been violent. Protective without being possessive. And then there was his body—hard muscle under smooth skin, a mouth that was gleaming, and that voice? It unraveled me in places I didn’t know I had.

He hadn’t even touched me like that… and yet, I could feel my body responding to him. Every glance, every quiet command—it made me ache.

I shouldn’t want him.

Not now. Not when I was still figuring out who I was. But want wasn’t logical. It was instinctual. And something about Riot felt like gravity.

I took my time washing every inch of my skin—washing off years of obedience, of trauma, of being touched only by duty. I wasn’t rushing this.

By the time I stepped out and wrapped myself in a thick towel, I felt lighter.

Still healing.

But no longer caged.

And for the first time since I was sixteen…

I felt alive.

My thoughts were swirling in my head. This was the first time in years where I was walking through a place without fear or stress. I followed the scent of breakfast food to a vast kitchen.

Riot was already seated at the kitchen island, tapping something into his phone. When he looked up, his smile was immediate.

“There she is,” he said, nodding toward the stool across from him. “I was about to come get you.”

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