Page 66 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Mr. Rogers can pay off the cops again if shit hits the fan.

“Be right back,” I utter to Charlie as I turn around. I open the door and nearly scream as I bump into a person from the other side. “Shit! Sorry!”

I adjust my mask, thankful it’s still on.

“What the fuck.”

My head shoots up, and for the first time in years, dread slams into me as my eyes clash with the last person I expect to see at this moment.

He’s not even wearing a mask. “Rurik?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck!

Did I mention how fucked I am?

Without thinking, I grab Rurik’s shoulders and pull him into the office before slamming the door shut.

“Rurik!” I exclaim, “It’s not what it looks like!”

His shocked look morphs into confusion when his gaze darts over my shoulders, where Charlie is still lying.

I close my eyes shut. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah.”

“What the fuck?” Rurik whispers, his eyes alarmed as they dart between me and Charlie. “What the actual fuck!”

“Yup,” I nod, opening my eyes. “Listen to me,” I snap my fingers at his face, but he doesn’t look at me. “Rurik!” I lightly slap his cheeks. “Look at me!”

Rurik focuses back on me, his eyes widening as they roam over my face.

“Hey. There you are,” I grin, cupping his cheeks with my hands. “Everything is going to be okay, angel. I promise. I will not hurt—”

“It's you,” Rurik whispers. He's staring at me as if this is the first time he's seen me in years.

I stare back, confused. As I take off my mask, I let out a nervous laugh. His eyes widen even more than I thought possible.

“What’s me? Your soulmate? Duh, angel,” I teasingly toss my hair over my shoulder. “About time you realize that.”

Rurik’s mouth falls open, his eyes shifting from my eyes to my lips, then back to my eyes. He lets out a small huff of breath, and I can't help but lean closer, inhaling his comforting scent.

Fuck, I miss him so much.

He's not pushing me away, so that’s a good thing, right? I lift my chin and lightly brush my lips against his.

“You’re okay. Trust me, okay?” I murmur against his lips.

To my delight, he applies a bit more pressure back. I want to lick his lips and play with his tongue. I want to throw him against the wall and pull his dick out so I can swallow him up like a starved woman.

Because I am starving. He tastes like the alluring nectar of a forbidden piece of fruit, and an insatiable hunger for it consumes me. The walls of anger and excuses I'd built to try and stay mad at him crumbled the moment I laid eyes on him again.

Fuck, I am so screwed.

I pull away, expecting him to snap and shout at me. Maybe turn around to yell at everyone about what he witnessed and call the cops on me. And if I’m being honest, I probably would have let him.

I won’t stay in prison for long because Mr. Rogers owns them here, but I would have let Rurik think he did the right thing.

So imagine my surprise when he nods. That's all. He stares deeply into my eyes and simply nods as if he genuinely trusts me again. As if he didn’t just take my black heart and splash a bit of color back into it.

I lean back, observing him closely, searching for any signs that he might be on the verge of a panic attack.

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