Page 71 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

She’s fucking beautiful, and I don't know what to do with that.

And she just rolled her eyes again and is now walking away. Without thinking of my actions, I take a few steps after her and grab her wrist. She lets out a surprised yelp and whirls around to face me again.

“What are you doing?” She snaps as I stare at her hand. She tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip as I inspect the skin. Her whole hand looks grossly red, and there is a cut on her knuckles with blood seeping out of it.

Did my vision turn red just now?

An annoyed sound escapes my mouth, causing her to look at me in confusion. I lightly press a finger on the cut, and she hisses.

I glare down at her, “You hurt yourself.”

She makes an unbothered sound, “It’s just a scratch. I’ve had worse.”

But I just shake my head, “Are you okay?”

Her eyes widen with surprise before a teasing glint shines in them. “Awww, Rurik. I didn’t realize you cared about me this whole time.”

“In your fucking dreams.”

“Oh, I dream about more than just fucking you.”

I let out an exasperated growl, but my thumb carefully caresses her bruised knuckles. Her brows furrow as she glances down at our hands, her lips parting slightly.

Yeah, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing either. Nor do I have any idea what I was thinking when I blurted out, “Come to my place. I have a first aid kit to help you wrap your hand.”

Fuck it.

It’s the least I can do for her saving my ass just now. This can be my way of saying thank you, right? That’s it. Just a thank you. I should probably let her know that so she doesn’t get that crazy mind of hers even more insane ideas.

“Then you can go about your business,” I add, clearing my throat.

A sly, evil grin spreads across her beautifully monstrous face. “Rurik. Are you inviting me over to your house?”

I scowl, dropping her hand. “Not in that way, Briar. So that I can help with your hand, it looks bad.”

“Aww,” She purrs, lifting her uninjured hand and tapping the tip of my nose. “I love that you worry about me.”

“Fuck you, Briar,” I growl, smacking her hand away from my face. “I don’t give a shit about you.”

She continues grinning like an idiot. “Keep talking dirty to me. You know how much it drives me crazy.”

“You’re seriously exhausting.” I sigh, turning around, knowing she’d just follow me. “Do you ever just turn it off?”

As I expect, she quickens her steps until she walks beside me.

“Kind of hard to do that when you always turn me on,” Briar says, as if that's a normal thing to say during a normal conversation.

I just shake my head, giving up. After a few minutes of walking, I can't help but steal glances at her. She must notice my attention because her lips twitch occasionally, and she just raises a brow as if to challenge me.

Fucking brat.

“Why haven’t you texted me?” I can’t help but ask.

She frowns, “I always texted you.”

“I meant, why didn’t you text me after…” I trail off. After everything that happened that day. Do you not care that my life has turned upside down ever since?

A flicker of regret spread across her face, but it was instantly gone. She glances at me and shrugs, “Well, why have you never texted me back?”

---