Page 76 of Blood & Throttle
Riot’s expression shifts.
His silence doesn’t feel empty, it feelsloud. Like something in him just cracked and reformed in the shape of a decision.
I go on, voice low. “I’m dead regardless.”
He grabs my jaw—not rough, not gentle—justfinal. His thumb brushes over my lip, then my chin, grounding me.
He leans in, breath hot against my skin.
“No,” he says, voice like gravel and thunder. “I’m not letting that happen.”
Then he lowers his mouth to the bite he left on my neck and speaks the next words straight into my skin, like a brand.
“I’m the only one who gets to hurt you now.”
And fuck me.
I believe him.
I’m still pullingon my jacket when the knock hits the warehouse door—quick, clipped, no hesitation.
Doc doesn’t wait for an invite. She swings it open and steps inside with her med bag slung over one shoulder and a whole lot of judgment in her eyes.
She takes one look at me—at the bruises on my thighs, the teeth marks on my neck—and lets out a low whistle.
“Well, shit. You let him mark you like a chew toybeforethe race?”
“Good morning to you too,” I mutter, zipping halfway and reaching for my goggles.
Doc drops the bag on a workbench and pops it open. “Didn’t realize Riot was part Pitbull. Next time, maybe muzzle him before he starts gnawing on arteries.”
I shoot her a look. “You done?”
“Not even close.” She peels open a sterilized wipe, closes the distance between us, and gestures to my neck. “Tilt.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re punched-out, bruised-up, and bleeding from a bite. You’re not fine. You’re freshly fucked and lying about it.”
Riot shifts behind me, muttering something low under his breath.
Doc doesn’t look back. “You growl one more time and I’ll sedate you like a rabid dog.”
I snort. Riot exhales, probably the only reason he hasn’t murdered her yet.
Doc dabs the bite with the alcohol wipe, quick and precise, like she’s done this a hundred times. “You’re lucky this isn’t already infected. Who knows where his mouth has been.”
“He’s veryclean,” I deadpan.
“Right,” she smirks. “And I’m a virgin.”
She tapes a small pad over the worst of the bruising, then leans back to inspect her work. “It won’t help the fact that everyone in a ten-block radiusheardwhat went down last night. But hey, least you’ll look hot bleeding out.”
Riot crosses his arms, looming in the doorway. “You done now?”
Doc zips the med kit shut and grins. “Don’t worry, big guy. She’s still in one piece. Mostly.”
“She better be,” he mutters.
