Page 87 of Blood & Throttle
“He nicked me.”
“Same fucking thing,” Riot growls. “If you hadn’t shifted when you did—”
“But Idid, Riot.” I grab his wrist, hard enough to stop him. “I’m here. Breathing. Mostly fine. And you? You’re one impulsive move away from them putting a bullet throughyourhead.”
His jaw twitches and his eyes meet mine.
“I don’t give a fuck if they do,” he says.
My chest tightens. “WellIdo.”
We’re both quiet for a second.
Riot tears a strip of bandage, his hands gentler now, wrapping it slowly. Secure. Focused. But his jaw stays tight, and I can feel how hard he’s working not to explode again.
“You scared the shit out of me, you know,” I say, voice low.
He doesn’t look up.
I nudge his chin with my boot. “You always gonna be this dramatic when I bleed?”
He finally glances at me, his eyes dark, heavy. “Only when it’s because someone tried to kill you.”
“Damn.” I smirk, leaning back on my palms. “You gonna start crying next?”
He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t rise to the bait, just finishes the wrap, then reaches up and cradles my face in his bloodstained hand.
“I meant what I said,” he murmurs. “They touch you, I’ll kill them.”
“And if they killyou, then what? I’m supposed to avenge your dramatic ass while bleeding out on the finish line?”
“You’d look hot doing it,” he says.
I roll my eyes.
But my stomach flips.
Because underneath all that cocky deflection, I know the truth. He would die for me.Wantsto die for me, if it means I live. And that? That’s what terrifies me.
Because I don’t want a martyr.
I want him. Whole. Breathing.
Here.
“You’re not dying for me, Carter,” I say. “I’m not worth that.”
He leans in. His breath brushes my lips. “Too fucking late.”
My pulse kicks.
And then he kisses me.
It’s not violent. Not rough. Just… real. Hot. Careful. His mouth moves like he’s asking permission, even as he steals it.
I chase it for a second longer, pressing into him but he pulls back.
I blink. “Seriously?”
