Page 19 of Worth the Ruin
There’s a full kitchen and dining area, and a large, fully-stocked bar in the corner, bottles lining the glass shelves behind the stone counter. A large desk strewn with books and notes sits just beside it in between two of the bedroom doors. A few pieces of art hang on the walls—a couple of Monets and a Degas—and I narrow my eyes: are these…fuck, I think these might bereal?? I take a step forward before I’ve even made the decision to move, like I’m going to sprint across the room and touch oneof these masterpieces with my own hands, but freeze, locking my muscles in place.
I let my gaze keep sweeping over the space and find mismatched shelves filled to the brim with books lining the other wall.Hundredsof them, maybe thousands.
“Surprised?” he drawls as he unfolds himself from the leather couch. His hair is damp, a few droplets falling from the strands and turning the light gray fabric of his t-shirt nearly black. He has a bandage on his bicep from where Kevin had grazed him, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him too much. His tattoos are on full display now, covering both arms pretty much fully down to his elbows. Neither are one solid design, but a mix of things that flow cohesively together to form one overall picture, though the actual items vary wildly: a pocket watch; a cross with some script beneath it; the state of Georgia; a lion’s head; a thick Celtic knot encircling his right bicep; a compass; initials and dates. I hate that I’m interested in the stories behind all of them. I idly wonder if the bullet wound ruined the design beneath the bandage, but I can’t really tell right now.
I hike a shoulder as if I couldn’t care less about what’s in his room, but I’m eager to get closer and browse the titles on the bookshelves. I’m in desperate need of new reading material. Not that I’d ever ask to borrow his books, of course, but I couldstealthem...
“I trust you found your room to be adequate.” His lips curl at the corners and I narrow my eyes.
“Why am I staying there? Shouldn’t I be in a cell or something?”
He doesn’t answer, just studies me before making his way to the bar. He adds ice to two glasses, pours a healthy amount of amber liquid into each, and strolls towards me. I tense but don’t retreat and he holds out one of the glasses. Though I could really use a drink or twelve, I eye it coldly. He waits, cocking a darkblonde brow and telling me without words that he’ll stand there all night if he has to. I roll my eyes and take the damn glass. Whiskey by the smell of it. My brows rise a bit.Goodwhiskey. I take a sip and just stop myself from giving an appreciativemmm.
“I like to keep an eye on the new members of our little group,” he finally answers, though it seems like a lie to me. Renee had been shocked when he’d told her to put me in that room. Maybe it’s reserved for the ones he takes a particular interest in torturing—or using for…other things. I grit my teeth as he makes his way back to the couch, gesturing for me to sit too. I reluctantly follow, perching on the chair that sits opposite the couch. He studies me in silence as he sips his drink slowly. The look is calculating and…intense.Smolderingcomes to mind, and my entire body feels like a bow string pulled too taut.From fear,I tell myself.Just fear and nothing else…
I quickly down my entire drink, wincing a little at the burn left behind. If ever there was a time for liquid courage, it’s now. Sure, I’d been trained for, and put into, far worse situations, but that is different. I almost always had backup in those days, for one. Now, I’m totally on my own. And it isn’t justmylife on the line if I fuck up.Jonah, Jonah, Jonah. I can do this for him.
I decide that since this is happening whether I like it or not, maybe it won’t be as bad if I do it on my own terms, ifImake the move. I can pretend in some delusional part of my brain that this ismychoice. I take a deep breath and rise from the chair, closing the small distance between it and the couch in just a few steps.
His brows draw together as I lean down to take his glass from him. He lets me and I toss the contents back too before setting the glass on the coffee table. I slide into his lap, my thighs straddling his hips and sling my arms over his shoulders. His hands fly to my hips, holding me in place. My heart pounds loudly in my ears, but my body…reacts.Oh boydoes it react.Traitorous little bastard. It’s admittedly been years since I’ve been with anybody, and even this small contact is enough to set every nerve in my body on fire. I suddenlyneedand I need very, very badly.
No, no, no.I try to remind myself that he’s a cold-blooded killer.You’re one to talk, a part of my mind whispers, but it quickly shuts up as I start to lose my ability to think rationally. Maybe this arrangement won’t be so bad after all. I mean, hate fucking is a thing…but even with psychos? Sure. Why not? There are plenty of dark romance books about it, right? It’s definitely a thing…
“What are you doing, Melody?” he asks, voice a little gruff. He clears his throat lightly.
“Isn’t this why I’m here?” I ask in a whisper as I lean towards him. “To be one of your whores?” Though he hadn’t outright said it, of course, I’d assumed, and apparently so did both Tricia and Renee. Plus, I’d caught him stealing appreciative glances at me more than once over the years. I’m not ignorant enough to think that my looks and body weren’t part of the reason I’d been such a successful agent before the end of the world. Of course, that wasn’tallI was, but my looks could be a huge asset—or a weapon, depending on the situation—so why not use them?
Now, I realize, they can be both. The idea of seducing Austin Traeger quickly flits through my mind. I’d taken down bigger targets than him this way, made powerful men fall in love and forget themselves and their agendas. Could that work with him? Maybe I could use my body to get certain concessions from him.Like seeing Jonah again. Hope flares. Maybe I can be more than just “one of his girls.”
He stiffens and turns his head away just before my lips met his. He gently pushes my hips away, keeping space between our bodies. I pull back and stare down at him in confusion.
“As enticing as that offer is, and as much as I appreciate the sacrifice you were prepared to make,” he says, cold sarcasm thick in his voice, “I’m going to have to decline your offer.”Huh? Is he…turning me down? What the fuck?
“Why?” I blurt. He gives me a hard look, jaw ticking.
“Do you really want to be one of mywhores?” He says the word like it tastes like vinegar.No. Yes. Maybe?
I press my lips into a hard line, annoyed by my conflicting thoughts when I know damn well it should be a firm and unequivocablefuck no. He nods, taking my silence as an answer.
“That’s what I thought. So, why don’t we just get to know each other a little bit instead?”
He glances pointedly down at me, wordlessly telling me that I should remove myself from his lap. I blink and scramble off, swallowing hard. Relief floods through me, of course, but I’m also a bit…indignant. And disappointed. And ok, maybe even a little embarrassed.Hedoesn’t wantme? Seriously? Sure, maybe I’m a little rusty in the charming-men’s-literal-pants-off department, but still. It’s the apocalypse for fuck’s sake, and beggars and choosers and all of that, and fuck, I don’t even know what’s going on right now.
I don’t understand what game he’s playing and decide anger and irritation are better emotions to feel right now than anything else, so I push all the other things aside and focus on those. I glare at him as he rises and returns to the bar before coming back with the entire bottle, pouring us both another drink. I take it and sip, eyeing him distrustfully.
“I already told you, I know enough,” I say, keeping my voice even, determined to act like nothing had happened. Yet again, he’d surprised me, more inconsistencies to drive me insane. The man who kept a literal harem of women to use as he pleased, and who had taken me as a hostage to again, use as he pleased…didn’twant to use me as he pleased? I don’t fucking understand.
One brow arched, he asks, “Care to enlighten me?” I shrug. “Alright then, how about I ask you some questions then?”
I stand and start to roam around the room.
“I don’t think I really have a choice, so go ahead.”
“Fair enough.” There’s a bit of amusement in his voice now. “What did you do before the world ended?”
“A little of this, a little of that,” I say vaguely as I move towards his desk. I add honestly, “I worked on a shrimp boat for a while when I was younger.” I turn back to look at him. “Also at Hooters for a whole four hours before I got fired for breaking a guy’s hand.” My lips curl at the memory and I don’t miss how his eyes flare at that. I snort and turn back towards the desk, surreptitiously studying the contents strewn across the surface. Notes and maps and statistics and projections and…The Divine Comedy—in fucking Italian??I shoot him a look over my shoulder, eyes narrowed. Who the hell is this man?
“Where were you before The Cove?”
