“Huh?”
He chuckles. “As in the color of liquor you like.”
“Oh… I don’t…” I gaze around at all the strange faces, a sudden and strange wave of anxiety creeping up my spine. I’ve never actually considered what Ilike—even for something as simple as a beverage. Telling Riot, telling anyone what I want feels wrong, and I can’t shake the sensation that I’ll be punished for it. “Whatever you think is best.”
He tilts his head, a strange emotion swirling in his golden gaze. He doesn’t make any comment, though. He just turns and orders something from the bartender. I’m alone with my thoughts for barely two minutes when Riot turns back to me, two clear plastic cups in his palms filled with ice and an amber liquid.
“For you,” he says, shifting the one in his left hand closer to me. Our fingertips brush as I take it from him, and sparks spread over my skin, causing a small shudder to run through me.
“Cold?”
My breath halts as I meet his gaze, caught up in the sheer intensity of how he’s looking at me. Like I’m something precious to protect. Like I’m something toeat.
“I-I’m good,” I say, my voice whisked away by the sounds of the bar. “Peachy perfect.”
Riot grins, leaning in so his lips are positioned just over my ear. His warm breath brushes the shell of my ear, the sensation causing heat to pool in my core. “You are just too fucking cute. Has anyone told you that before, sweet girl?”
The same heat pulsing between my thighs travels to my face, and I’m grateful Riot can’t see my face from his position. My heart pounds in my ears as I lick my lips, desperate to wet them despite my impossibly dry mouth.
Instead of answering, I bring my drink to my lips, trying my best to ignore the pungent odor as I take a large gulp of the amber liquid. A taste like gasoline assaults my taste buds, coating my throat and sinuses and making me choke. Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision, but I’m still able to make out Riot’s teasing grin.
“Not a whiskey fan, then?”
“I don’t think so,” I choke, casting an accusatory look at the drink in question. “But it’d be a shame to waste it.”
Riot’s expression twists in shock as I down the rest of my drink. The burn is not as bad the second time—in fact, I think I kind of like it. There’s a pleasant buzzing sensation building at the base of my skull, creeping outward steadily and filling my head with warmth.
“I guess I was wrong.” Riot holds out his drink. “Want mine?”
I nod, grabbing the cup and taking a smallsipas he turns and heads back toward the bar. Isipslowly on my whiskey while I wait, looking around at the different trinkets lining the walls, losing myself in the bustle of the crowded bar.
I’m so distracted, I don’t notice the large man stumbling backward, trying to catch his balance. That is, I don’t until the full weight of his body slams into me, knocking me and my drink to the ground.
My shoulder slams into the floorboards first, followed by the sharp crack of my skull. Stars spark in my eyes, my vision tunneling as a sharp pain builds in my temple.
For a moment, I’m disoriented, unable to remember where I am or what I’m doing. A man is leaning over me, his mouth moving in a repeated string of soundless apologies.
I blink, and his face comes into focus.And he looks a whole lot like Dave.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I’m being ridiculous. I know it’s not Dave, that this is some random stranger who had the misfortune of bumping into me. But in my shocked and slightly inebriated state, I’m unable to fight off the panic clawing up my throat.
My windpipe tightens, and there’s a wheezing sound that accompanies each shallow breath I manage to take. My head feels hot, my bones like rubber, and the ground beneath my palms is shifting wildly.
He found me. He found me, and it’s all over.
I’m vaguely aware of movement out of the corner of my eye, of someone crouching next to me on the floor. I react when his hand touches my shoulder, wheeling toward him with wild eyes and a snarl.
“Get the fuck off me!” I push and claw at the arm, but it doesn’t budge. If anything, the band of steel grips me tighter.
“It’s me, Eloise! It’s me!”
The low rumble of Riot’s voice pierces through the haze, and it causes me to pause. I blink rapidly, the fight fleeing my veins as Riot’s golden gaze becomes clear.
“I’m here,” he whispers, letting go of my arm to cup my face, his thumb tracing circles over the heated flesh. “It’s okay, sweet girl. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
“Riot, I?—”
“Shh. It’s okay,” he murmurs, pulling me into his arms and scooping me off the floor. I bury my face into his chest, breathing in the scent of tobacco and woody spices. It grounds me and helps me ignore the wide-eyed crowd. Soon, my rapid heartbeat slows, and my shuddering pants turn to deep, even breaths.
