Page 34 of Riot

“Fits right in.” Reaper grinned, clasping my shoulder.

“Yeah, he does.” I had already known he would. Now all I had to do was tell him about my wolf—that would go over great after seeing his reaction to Noodles/Gunner—and explain to him that we were mates.

Piece of cake.

Chapter Eight

Riot

The night air cooled against my skin as we pulled out of the compound, Calvin’s arms wrapped around my waist with less death-grip panic and more settled warmth than when we’d arrived. His fingers had found the edge of my cut and hooked there, a subtle anchor that made my wolf rumble with satisfaction.

The ride to his place took fifteen minutes through quiet streets and darker stretches where the streetlights grew farther apart. Calvin’s neighborhood sat on the south side of Temptation, older homes with wide porches and trees that had been growing since before either of us was born. His directions came through the helmet speaker, his voice relaxed now that the puppy trauma had faded.

I pulled into his driveway and cut the engine. The sudden silence felt heavy after the constant rumble of the road.

Now the silence between us felt different. Fuller. Like neither of us wanted the night to end.

I swung off the bike first then offered my hand. Calvin took it, his palm warm and slightly damp from the ride. He didn’t let go right away after finding his feet. His fingers lingered against mine while the engine ticked and cooled beside us. The small bungalow looked quiet and was dark except for one light in what was probably the living room.

Leaning back against the seat of my bike, I stretched my legs out in front of me in a comfortable stance. The heat of the engine still radiated from the metal. Calvin stepped into the space naturally, like we’d done this a dozen times before.

“You had fun tonight.” I wasn’t asking. I’d watched him laugh at Spencer’s antics, watched him eat three empanadas, watched him slowly unwind from whatever had been tightening his shoulders when I’d first arrived at the laundromat.

He’d been among people who’d accepted him without question.

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Your friends are…surprisingly normal.”

“For bikers?” Warm night air moved between us, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and something flowering in the neighbor’s yard.

“For anyone.” He leaned against my knee, the contact sending warmth through my leg. “I expected more leather and less…family.”

“Family’s exactly what they are.” I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. He didn’t flinch away. Instead, he leaned into the touch. “Though I can’t promise the rest of them won’t try to feed you or adopt you or interrogate you about your laundry skills.”

Calvin groaned. “Reaper asked me five questions about fabric softener. I thought he was joking. He wasn’t.”

“That’s Reaper for you. Deeply invested in static reduction.”

His laugh came easy, bright in the quiet darkness of the driveway. The porch light threw a soft yellow glow across the driveway, catching the edges of Calvin’s face. Standing between my legs like this, Calvin was nearly eye level with me. Close enough to touch. Close enough that I could count the faint freckles scattered across his nose if I wanted to.

I wanted to.

Calvin’s breath caught, barely audible. His body swayed forward an inch before he caught himself. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Looking at me like I’m an empanada.”

A laugh rumbled up from my chest. “You’re better than empanadas.”

“High praise from a man who cooks.”

He set his hands on my shoulders, tentative at first then firmer when I didn’t pull away. The weight of his palms sent warmth spreading down my arms. “I could get used to it. The food. The company. The…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to my mouth.

“The what?”

“The everything.” His voice had gone softer. “You’re making it very hard to be sensible about this.”

“Told you I’m the wrong person to steer you away from what you crave.”