Page 218 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Oscar’s right — Briar’s safe. She’s actually fine.

She's on her phone, and there seems to be some life in her again. Her brows scrunch together, and her bottom lip pushes out into a small pout as she's focused on scrolling through her phone. She's probably wondering why I haven't replied to the text she finally sent me an hour ago for the first time after her being radio silent.

I ignored it. I just wanted to see her in person. And now she’s here right here in front of me.

I take a step inside the room, and her face shoots up. Her eyes widen when our eyes clash together.

“Rurik! You’re here! What—”

“Shut up.”

“Wha—”

I take her face in my hands and crash our lips together.

Fuck.

I hadn't realized what I was missing until our lips met again. It feels like the first sip of water after days of deprivation—exhilarating, refreshing, and desperately needed. It's as if I have been starving, and now, finally, I am consumed with her addicting scent and taste, and I'm damn greedy for it.

“Rurik,” Briar gasps softly as our lips part for air.

“Shut up,” I repeat harshly, ignoring her surprise.

Climbing onto the bed, I wrap my arms around her, mindful of the IV drip. It's uncomfortable, but I don't care. All I want is to be near her, to feel her warmth and know she's safe.

Briar looks up at me, blinking. Her lips curve into a slight grin as she ducks her head, placing it on my chest. The action is making me feel all types of fucked up, but I don’t care. She’s here with me.

After what feels like hours, my body finally relaxes against hers. She takes my hand and kisses the back of it. I kiss the back of her head, just noticing the bandage wrapped around her head.

“What happened, Briar?” I ask, cupping her cheek and forcing her to look at me.

Briar swallows hard and looks away, “I thought Oscar and Natalie already told you? They warned me you were coming, but I didn’t realize how fast you would be here. You didn’t have to ruin your time with your mom, angel. I know she must—”

“Stop changing the fucking subject and tell me what happened.”

Her eyes narrow, and I know I’m being such an asshole.

“Sorry,” I mutter, forcing my anger to simmer down. “I’m sorry. Please, tell me what happened, Briar. I’m going crazy not knowing.”

She just nods and sighs. “I was attacked from behind while I was out for my run.”

“This was after we got off the phone?”

“Yeah.”

“I should have stayed on the phone until you were safely home.”

“What? No, don’t you dare blame yourself.”

I purse my lips, glaring at the wall because I want to say things I know may piss both of us off.

“What are you thinking of?” She had to ask.

“You reprimanded me for not paying attention to my surroundings while I was out, and you couldn’t do the same thing for yourself?” I couldn’t help but snap.

“Are you seriously victim-blaming right now?”

“What? No! I’m just saying you saved me once after you yelled at me for blasting my music and walking alone at night after work. You couldn’t follow your advice?”

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