Page 46 of Ruthless God

“No, you’re going home with me.”

“No. I need space.”

“Hi, my name is Space,” Snow mocks.

“Snow, please let me go.”

“I saidno. Take a rain check, or I’ll punish you again.”

“You can control me in the bedroom, Snow. But outside of our sexual relationship, you don’t control my life.”

He cups both of my cheeks, stroking my lips with his thumbs. “That’s where you’re wrong. The seven-point-five-million-dollar engagement ring I bought you shows I do control you. You’re mine.” He looks down at my finger, frowning. “You’re going to wear your ring. People need to know you’re taken.”

“I’ll never wear your ring, Revi.”

He might control most of my life, but he won’t control what I wear. I will never be his, and I’ll never admit to anyone that I’m his. He can fuck me however he wants, do anything he wants to me and my body, but I have some power here.

He strokes the side of my face and I suck in a breath. “You’ll learn that I own every inch of you.”

He does—my body—but never my heart.

I’ll never give him my heart.

The next morning, I wake up and look to my left to find Snow is not in bed. He must have gone to class, thank God, because lastnight he fucked the shit out me until we were both out of breath. I stretch my legs out and glance out the window. The sun reflects off the crystal-clear water. Yawning, I roll out of bed and head to my vanity.

There is a small box sitting on the table.

Crinkling my nose, I remove the lid and scream at the top of my lungs. There is a pair of bloody lips sitting on a small pillow with a note written in blood. No doubt, it’s Snow’s handwriting.

This is what happens when you allow a man to touch you. If you don’t want me to leave a trail of dead bodies, then I suggest you don’t let another man touch you ever again.

Snow

Strapping my backpack over my shoulders, I leave the classroom and head to her professor’s office, which is on the other side of campus. I need to make sure Lyrical is graduating on time.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I grab it and read the text message from her.

Blue: What am I supposed to do with your “gift”?

Me: Keep it as a reminder of what I would do to a person if they were to touch you.

Blue: You’re insane. I’m the one who came on to him and I’m the one who had intentions of sleeping with him.

Me: Don’t piss me off, Lyrical.

Blue: It’s true. I feel responsible.

As she should, because no one should be touching her and I’ll kill every guy she flirts with just to prove a point. She sends me another text.

Blue: Did you… you know?

Me: Yes.

I chopped off his hands and lips and told Keanu to do whatever he wanted to do to him. Keanu tied him to cinder blocks, then used his father’s yacht to dump the body in the middle of the ocean. I didn’t have time to do what I wanted to do with Melvin. I wanted to keep him around in my basement, torture him a little bit more, but I was too consumed with rage, so I made his death quick and easy.

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and head straight to her professor’s office, because he didn’t respond to my email about Lyrical’s diagnosis. I had Jameson hack into her medical records to retrieve them. She has every right to graduate on time and make her dreams come true. I also realize I’m going soft and reverting back to my old ways before I stopped being friends with her, cleaning up her messes.

She has no idea what she does to me.

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