Page 69 of Marked
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I slip into a pair of cut-off jean shorts, the pockets blessedly empty of enchanted bits of metal. My tank top is blood-red and cut high in a wide halter band. Though I changed the gauze to a big ass band-aid, the tan strip is still visible if you look hard enough.
My sigh is heavy. All the times I read vampire novels, none of the bites ever hurt this bad.
Then again, the women’s throats weren’t almost torn out either.
My stomach wants to protest it. Not just the violence, but the notion that a vampire bite isn’t what I always expected. But I shove it all down in the little Pandora’s box in my head. Along with Vic’s betrayal, and my parent’s death.
Grabbing a pair of worn, but comfortable cowgirl boots, I step out into the bedroom.
Ruin sits on my bed, his head in his hands. He looks up, those dark eyes trailing from my bare feet to the collar of my shirt. “I thought Underground has a dress code?” he asks.
I snort. “If I was waitressing, yeah. But I’m the bartender. And I make more tips when I look good.”
Something flows through his gaze. “Oh.” He stares at me, his expression carefully blank.
“Can you toss me those socks beside you?” I ask.
He blinks and turns to grab them. They sail into my waiting hands, and I slip them on before tugging on my boots. The silence in the room grows. When I pivot to grab my cell phone off the nightstand, I crash into Ruin’s hard body. My eyes roll from his chest to the rigid line of his jaw.
“Ruin?”
His fingers flow over my bare arm, up to my shoulder, and higher to gently tug at the edge of my collar. He pulls my hair into place and steps back before walking around me.
I grab him. “Stop,” I command. “You’ve said less than twenty words to me since I woke up. What’s wrong?”
He gives me a look.
My cheeks heat. “Oh.”
His head inclines sarcastically. “Yeah,oh.” He pulls away.
I lunge, fingers closing over the sculpted muscle of his bicep.Holy fuck, he’s ripped. I shake my head. “Ruin. It wasn’t your–”
“Don’t say it, Lilah.” He glares at me over his shoulder. This time when he wrenches away, I let him go. “Itwasmy fault. I should have never let you come with us.”
My hands press to my hips. “You didn’tletme do anything.”
His eyes glitter. “Oh really?” he asks. “Do you think you would have gotten out there if I hadn’t agreed to let you come?”
He walks closer, prowling over the plush grey carpet. Though the black skull shirt is gone, the black cut-off tank he wears is better. It frames his powerful upper body like a glove. One I want to peel off.
“You have no control over what I do, Ruin,” I say, trying for calm, but my voice comes out lower than normal as his scent hits me with force.
He stalks me, pressing me back. “Is that so?”
I stare up at him, heart hammering like a trapped thing in my chest. “Yeah. It is.” My spine presses into the wall, and I gasp. He bears down on me.
His hands alight on each side of my head and he leans down, so close his breath is warm over my face. “I could cuff you to the bed and put guards on you until I have this solved.” My lips part. He locks on the movement, the first hint of gold spiraling into his irises. “Hell, I’ll make sure it’s my bed.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I breathe.
He smiles, flashing twin fangs. I wait for the unease, the fear. Especially after earlier. It never comes. “Oh, I dare,” he says. His eyes close and he inhales. “I can smell your blood on your skin. Even after the showers.”
My pulse skips.
“And?” I ask, palms tight to the wall. Anything to keep from hauling him to me.
