Page 29 of Alpha Chained
Did he pack his things here last night? I don’t know why it surprises me to think that he has personal belongings, but I guess it makes sense. He lives here, after all.
“Riot.” I sit up, tucking the covers around my bare chest. He glances over his shoulder at me, the white shirt poised to go over his head. “Why do you do it? Why do you keep fighting?”
“Because he tells me to.” His head disappears into the tank and then pops out of the neckline. He tugs it over his chest with unnecessary roughness before pulling on his sweats.
“But you could say no.” I brush a wave of tousled hair from my face. “You don’t have to let Parker control you.”
His jaw tightens. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” I push, scooting to the edge of the bed. “What could he possibly hold over you that’s so bad? You’re stronger than this. I know you are.”
His silver-gray eyes snap to mine, cold as shards of ice. “You don’t know anything.”
I take a breath, gathering my resolve. “I know enough to see that you’re more than just some brute in a cage. There has to be a reason you let him—”
“Enough.” His voice is a low growl.
“No, it’s not enough!” I snap back, anger flaring. “You could end this! You could…” I look around the room, lowering my voice to a hoarse whisper. “You could leave! You know this place well enough. Why don’t you—?”
“Shut up!” Riot’s fist slams into the dresser, making it rattle. He turns on me, eyes blazing with fury. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s none of your business.”
My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. The raw intensity in his eyes leaves me momentarily speechless.
He turns away from me, grabbing a towel from the chair and wrapping it around his neck. “Just stay out of it.”
“Riot…” I pinch my lips together. I’m making things worse.
He doesn’t look back as he strides to the door and yanks it open. There’s a new pair of guards standing outside this morning. They eye us curiously but say nothing. The tension between us hangs like a storm cloud.
And then he’s gone, leaving me alone with my questions and the heavy silence of the room.
Dammit.
That didn’t go well.
Why did you have to push, Raura?
God, I can be such an idiot sometimes. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?
Riot’s departure leaves the room feeling hollow and heavy. I sit on the bed for a moment, trying to steady my breathing. The sting of his words still lingers, but I shove it aside.
For Pete’s sake! You barely know the man, Raura.
After a minute, I rise and start to explore. The room is elegant and tasteful, maybe a guest room of some sort. Parker mentioned having guests; maybe he puts them up in suites like this. Either way, it’s definitely more than what I’ve had since being brought here. There’s a door on one side, and I push it open to find an adjoining bathroom. My eyes widen at the sight. A tub, an actual tub. It’s a luxury I can’t resist.
The water is scalding hot, but it feels incredible as it seeps into my muscles. I soak for what feels like hours, amazed at how my arm has healed. The pain is almost entirely gone. It’s like a small miracle in this place of nightmares.
Reluctantly, I drag myself out of the tub and wrap up in a towel. I return to the main room and begin to tidy up, more out of habit than necessity. It’s only the bed that needs making, but I take my time smoothing the sheets and tugging the covers until they’re firm enough to bounce a coin off of.
Riot’s clothes from last night are still folded on the chair by the dresser. I pick up the tidy bundle, stroking my palm over the fabric before impulsively burying my face against it. The fabric still carries his scent. Breathing it in feels like a guilty pleasure, so I quickly open the top drawer and pack them in. Inside are more items of clothing, and I can’t resist picking through them.
More plain tank tops, T-shirts, sweats, and shorts…black, white, and gray seem to be the only colors he has. Good thing they suit him. Although I’m pretty sure anything would look good on that man. Hopefully, they’ll look okay on me, too, since there’s nothing else for me to wear. I take out a white T-shirt and a pair of gray shorts and put them on. The shirt hangs to my knees, but luckily, the shorts have a drawstring, so I can adjust them to fit. Still, I can’t help giggling at myself when I catch my reflection in the mirror.
It’ll have to do.
The rest of my reflection isn’t so funny, though. My eyes are ringed by dark circles, and my cheeks are hollow. There are fading bruises along my jawline and throat – and I know there are more spread out across my body.
I can’t think about it now. At least I’ve had some sort of reprieve now that Riot has stepped in.