Page 250 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

I stare at him.

He’s lying. He has to be.

But now that he mentioned it… I remember Daddy coming out of the kitchen looking rough as if he was fighting with someone who was struggling. And, his hands were red, too…

Fuck.

“Is that why you were after me this whole time?” Philip continues. “Briar, she was my friend. We were colleagues, I swear, I never—”

“And the trafficking?” I interrupt.

Philip pales. “Th-that has n-nothing—”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” I snap. “I’m not going to kill you, for Rurik’s sake. But that doesn’t mean I won’t find justice in other means about the other innocent victims you stole.”

Before Philip could try to excuse himself, Nat runs out of the room.

“Briar!” She says breathlessly. “It’s Rurik!”

My heart stops.

“He’s looking for you.”

I leave Philip to Mr. Rogers's mercy and run past Nat with my heart barely functioning correctly.

As soon as I step out of the room, I see Rurik fiddling with his IV drip, trying to remove it.

“What are you doing, angel?” I’m surprised my voice sounds so calm even though I’m anything but.

Rurik’s head shoots up, and his face brightens, “Briar! Thank fuck. I — I woke up, and you weren't here.”

I can feel myself breaking apart as I throw my arms around him, careful not to hurt him some more. “I’m here, Rurik.” I breathe, my lips locked on his pulse.

He swallows hard, his fingers digging into my biceps. He lets go, only to try to move over, but I shake my head.

“Get up here, Briar.”

“Rurik, no,” I say. “You’re still being monitored, and—”

“I don’t give a fuck. Come here so I can touch you properly.”

“Stop being—”

“The last thing I tried to do when I thought I was dying was reach for you. I need to hold you.”

I close my mouth as I climb on the bed, placing my head on his chest where I can hear his heart beating.

There he is.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me. His breath blows on top of my head as he inhales deeply. His fingers cup my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

God. He’s alive… He’s here with me.

Rurik gives me a small smile and leans down, pressing our lips together. This kiss feels different. It’s not hurried or lustful. It’s tender, sweet, and loving—the kind of kiss shared by people in love.

He’s kissing me like he loves me.

And I don’t know why, but I’m sobbing and just creating a big snotty mess.

---