Page 40 of A Study of Blood and Ichor

“What would you prefer me to call you, hmm?” I shivered as his voice dropped into a dangerous, low rasp. “Honey? Love? Darling?”

He advanced on me like a stalking wolf, his eyes unwavering from mine as I swallowed down my rising fear and edged away, half-expecting Vain to make an appearance at any moment.

“Or maybe those are all too nice for someone as cruel as you? Wicked Witch might suit you better or…Vain’s little plaything?”

His hand twitched, almost as if he wanted to reach out to grab me. He was so close I could smell the alcohol wafting from him.

“You’re drunk,” I said.

He frowned and his eyes flashed with irritation. “Barely.”

Rory was in no state to be exorcised, and I wasn’t in the right mindset either as I struggled to keep my attention from dipping to his bare chest, and his heated glances kept making my face grow hot.

“Drink yourself into oblivion. I don’t care.” I turned to leave, but Rory’s warm, calloused hand shot to my wrist, anchoring me in place.

He gave a slight tilt of his head as he scanned me. “Why is he so obsessed with you?” he whispered, so softly that I could barely hear him over my thundering heartbeat.

Gritting my teeth, I snarled at him. “Let me go.”

“Make me,” he challenged.

My hand wavered for a moment, but I remained frozen.

“You want to know what I think?” he asked. “At first, I thought that your interest in saving me was only because I thought you were so self-righteous and desperate to gain the approval from your peers. But I think I finally realized what really drives you.”

Rory smirked, no doubt noticing the bob of my throat as I struggled to tamp down my emotions.

“I think you’re lonely. You don’t have anyone. You’re just as broken inside as you believe I am. Do you often grow attached to others, thinking they might offer you the barest shreds of the attention you so desperately seem to crav—”

My free hand shot out and slapped him across the face before I could think better of it. The resounding crack was sharp, and the tips of my fingers tingled in the aftershock.

Regret pooled in me the second I jerked my hand away. I could barely breathe at the realization of what I had just done, in fear of how he might retaliate. Or how Vain might if he were to show himself.

The force had whipped Rory’s head to the side. He turned his face back to me again slowly, eyes peeking through the tumble of his dark hair. The shadow of a crooked smile spread from the corner of his lips, his tongue darting out across them briefly.

“Did that feel good?” he asked. “Did you enjoy that split second where it felt like you were in control?”

Still breathless, I forced a whispered, “Yes.”

“Good,” he snarled, eyes darkening further. “I did too.”

The full force of his body crashed into mine, pinning me against the wall. He cupped the nape of my neck and fisted my hair, causing me to suck in a breath through my teeth. His other arm slammed into the wall next to my face, and he enveloped his body around mine. Rory leaned in until we were nose to nose, his breath hot against my cheek. “I want you to fucking ruin me, Ava.”

The sleeves of his robe had slunk up past his elbows, revealing the tattoos down his arms that rippled as his muscles strained. His mouth was dangerously close with lips parted slightly. Almost expectant.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. He was wild, completely unlike himself. If this was a shard of Vain’s true nature mixing with Rory’s, it was impossible to tell. Seconds passed as we shared breath after breath. My heart hammered in my chest erratically.

I hadn’t meant for my attention to slip past his mouth, further down his chest until my whole body heated at the sight of the hard outline of him through his dark lounge pants, mere inches from grinding against me.

“Is this you talking, Rory? Or is it Vain?” I asked.

Rory didn’t answer. His gaze slid down the length of my body. His cheeks were flushed, and based on his cocksure attitude, I gathered it wasn’t due to any embarrassment on his part. A flash of teeth, then a soft laugh escaped him, smelling strongly of bourbon. “I’ve seen how you look at me,” he whispered. “If I were to slip my fingers between your legs right now, how wet would I find you are for me?”

He loosened the hand fisted in my hair and trailed it across my jawline, down my neck, then lingered on the side of my breast.

I would have been lying to myself if I said I didn’t wish he would continue. But his drunkenness was a good enough reason as any to break this off, whatever this was becoming.

I planted my feet and pushed firmly against Rory’s chest with both hands. He stumbled backward onto the floor and laid there for a moment, staring back at me with his robe splayed open, and his lips parted in what could have been either mild astonishment or lust.

---