Page 42 of Bound By Ruin

Not from me. Not anymore.

Dark hair sticks to his forehead and neck, wildly blown around like he’s been caught in a windstorm. One small bandage sticks to the curve of his neck, but the rest are missing, leaving his skin bare. He walks across the plush mat covering the floor between us, stopping once he reaches the center. His scars glow in the low light, their color and shape shifting as he moves. “Come here,krosotka.”

Something silver flashes in his hand.

A large hunting knife.

The same one he touched me with before.

I swallow hard, knowing that I asked for this. I teased Rebel and ran away, only to find his brother lying in wait. Rebel would have been gentle, coaxing an orgasm from my body with his tongue.

I don’t know what to expect from Ruin, and that’s what scares me.

“You’re trembling.” Tilting his head to the side, Ruin studies me. “Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

He grunts, pointing the tip of his knife up and tapping it against his bare shoulder. His white dress shirt is carelessly slung over his torso, barely holding on with the few buttons at the bottom. The suit jacket and tie I picked out for him are long gone, lost to the night. But it’s not his clothing that captivates me—it’s his glowing eyes, the way they never blink.

It’s like he won’t let go of a single moment.

Slowly, I walk the short distance and come to a stop directly in front of him. Tiny bursts of light reflect off of my dress and heels, and he reaches out to roll a bead between his fingertips.

“You’re glowing.”

As he stares at my dress, I stare at him. The scars on his body are multi-layered, the old mixing with the new. Some of the wounds are barely healed, his flesh still mending, but he doesn’t flinch away from my gaze.

Nor does he flinch away from my touch.

I trace a bruise on his ribs, my hand shaking. His body is hot to the touch—breathlessly warm and inviting—and I lay my palm flat over his heart to feel its beat.

Steady and slow.

“You’re calm,” I murmur, chuckling at how different we are. “How can you be calm right now?”

Ruin grunts, taking a step closer. “You calm the voices,krosotka.” He lifts the knife higher and taps the sharp tip against the side of his head. “I can still hear them screaming. The echoes.” His heartbeat picks up as his gaze drifts inward, but only for a moment. It settles in an instant, his focus returning. He twists the bead between his fingers until the thread snaps and it slips into his palm.

Braving a glimpse inside his head, I murmur, “what echoes? Whose?”

He doesn’t answer, tugging another bead off of my dress instead. They slip through his fingers and tumble to the mat, bouncing at our feet. “I think they haunt me.” Exhaling slowly, he lifts his gaze to mine. “But I don’t think they’ll touch you.” With a tug at the side of my dress, he undoes the zipper and tugs it down. My top loosens, and I gasp as Ruin palms my ribs, counting the rungs under his breath. He tugs the dress down my body until it pools at my feet, then continues his silent exploration of my body. When one hand isn’t enough, he grabs my hand and curls my fingers around his knife hilt.

Our eyes meet, and he takes a deep breath as he lets go.

While he touches every inch of my skin, from the tender spot behind my knees to the points of my elbows, I stand perfectly still, unsure what to do. Goosebumps trail down my arms, traveling across my chest and stomach, then down my thighs. Ruin pauses to inspect my pebbled skin, then leans in to press a kiss above my belly button.

I inhale sharply as he continues, dragging his lips from hip to hip, then lower, dropping to his knees to kneel before me. Slowly, he pushes my feet farther apart, forcing me to widen my stance. I tremble as he stares between my thighs, his breath soft as he leans closer.

He kisses my mound, then arches his back and dips lower, slipping his tongue between my lips to taste my desire. Hooking his hands over my calves, he holds me still as I twitch and soft cries fall from my lips. What he lacks in experience he makes up for in patience, taking his time lapping at my folds and flattening his tongue over my clit to feel every quiver and shake of my body. His hands travel higher, rubbing my inner thighs before pulling my labia apart and granting him deeper access.

I damn near drop the knife as he pushes one thick finger inside my pussy. Frantically, I push him back and kick off my heels, growing desperate for more.

While I tear at his shirt and toss it to the floor, he undoes his belt and pulls his pants below his hips, his erection springing free. A bead of precum leaks from the tip. Sitting back on his haunches as I step out of my dress and kick it away, he peers up at me, a small smile curving on his lips as I take small, shaking steps toward him.

My heart stutters as I drop into his lap and curl my arms around his neck, careful to hold the knife out from our bodies. He reaches up and grabs my hand. “Hold it,” he rasps, pulling the blade lower, “here.” He presses its sharp edge to the side of his neck and closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he exhales slowly and tension slips from his shoulders.

Panic beats its wings inside my chest. “Ruin, I can’t?—”

His eyes snap open, and the smile falls from his lips. “Hold it.”

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