Page 169 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Without knowing, Rurik shoved his way into the unknown and made his way to me, back to him. It’s so funny to me how much an asshole like my angel has that much power over me.

Now that I think about it… I am so in trouble.

Rurik has the power to obliterate me, and I don't think he knows that.

“Briar?”

I blink, realizing he’s waiting for me to answer him.

“Oh. Uh,” Fuck. What should I say? “Yeah. It happened a few nights ago.”

Rurik’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Briar—”

“I’m fine,” I force a laugh, lifting myself to kiss him. “I’ll be careful next time, okay?”

Rurik hesitates for a few tense seconds before relenting and kissing me back. He sighs when I pull away and bring my wrist to his lips. I squirm against his hold.

Why did he do that? It feels weird.

“Where’s your first aid kit? I’ll patch you up. I don’t like how it might scar.” He mumbles, trying to sit up.

“No,” I quickly say, pushing him back down. “Later. Please? I’m really comfortable.”

I just want to stay wrap in his embrace forever.

“Okay, fine.” He says, stroking my hair. After a few minutes of us silently enjoying each other’s company, he clears his throat and says, “So, you told me a bit about your job, but can you tell me what you do? Besides killing people?”

I glare at him, and he grins and shrugs.

I sigh, using my hands to support my chin against his chest. I stare at his Adam’s apple and explain, “I can’t remember if I told you this yet, but I’m the Charons’s secret weapon.”

“Why are you guys called the Charons anyway?”

“Charon is a psychopomp who ferries the souls of dead people across the rivers in the Underworld.”

“Jesus.”

“No, to Hades.”

Rurik rolls his eyes. “Okay, ferrywoman. What does being a secret weapon for your gang mean exactly?”

“People don’t view me as a threat because of how young and innocent I look,” I’m not trying to sound full of myself. It’s true. I look young without make-up. “One look at me, and you’d think I could never hurt a fly.” I pause and chuckle, “Okay. I can’t hurt a fly or any animal. But people? People who deserve it? That’s different.”

“Okay?”

“So,” I continue. “After Mr. Roger’s men fail to get answers, I come in. All sweet and cute. I try to sweet talk the target to get them to confess what they did or get them to pay, whatever we need.”

“And if they don’t fall for your charms?”

She shrugs. “Depending on what Mr. Rogers says, I either kill them or let them go. Sometimes, he tells me I can let them go, but if they do something I don’t like, I just…You know.” I swipe a finger across my neck.

“Something you don’t like,” He echoes slowly, his face blank.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t, Rurik. I know you’re about to judge me, and usually, I don’t give a shit what people think of me. But I care what you think, and I don’t want to hear it right now.”

He tightens his lips, averting his gaze from me as his jaw clenches. Anxiety begins to swell in my chest until he releases a long, heavy sigh and glances down at me.

“So, you're a siren,” Rurik finally says, lightly tugging at my hair.

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