Page 40 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

I roll my eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Switching places with Damien. Orders from Cast."

My nostrils flare. "Excuse me?"

Vincent drops his bag by the door and stretches, like he’s settling in for a long stay. "You heard me, sweetheart. I’m your new babysitter."

"I don’t need a babysitter!" I snap.

"Yeah, well, Cast thinks you do."

I clench my fists. Cast and I are going to have words next time I see him.

Vincent flops onto the couch, grinning. "Relax. We’re gonna have so much fun."

I groan again. This is going to be a nightmare. “I'm going to bed,” I murmur turning around on my heels.

Vincent moves faster than I expect, pushing off the couch and grabbing my wrist before I can take another step. His grip isn’t tight, just firm enough to make me pause.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice smooth but laced with a heavier tone.

I tense, my skin burning where he touches me. "Let go, Vincent."

He doesn’t. Instead, he steps in closer, his body heat brushing against me like a teasing whisper. "You’re really just going to walk away from me? After everything?"

I exhale sharply, yanking my wrist back. He lets me go, but he doesn’t step away. If anything, he moves closer, his towering frame making it impossible to ignore him.

"I don’t see what else there is to say," I snap, crossing my arms. "You’re here because Damien told you to be. That doesn’t change anything."

Vincent tilts his head, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. "Doesn’t it?"

I scoff, turning to leave again, but he steps in front of me, blocking my path.

"Vincent—"

"You missed me. You can pretend all you want, Willow, but I know you. I see it in your eyes. You missed me."

My throat tightens. I want to deny it, want to throw his words back in his face, but I can’t.

Vincent must see my hesitation because he steps closer, his fingers brushing over my arm. "You were always good at running, but not from me. Never from me."

I swallow hard, the heat in his gaze unraveling something in my chest. "Vincent, stop."

"Why?" His hand trails up, fingers skimming over my jaw before tilting my chin up. "Because you’re afraid I’m right?"

I shake my head, but it’s weak. My body betrays me, leaning into his touch even as my mind screams at me to push him away.

"I missed you," he murmurs, his forehead resting against mine. "Every damn day."

I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands fisting at my sides. "You and I…we…at my Dad’s funeral and I just…" I whisper.

"I know." His thumb brushes over my cheek, the gentleness making my breath hitch. "That was the wrong time."

Silence stretches between us, thick with unsaid words and lingering tension. My chest rises and falls too fast, my body hyper aware of every inch of him.

"Say it," he whispers, his lips barely an inch from mine. "Say you missed me, and I’ll stop."

I open my mouth, ready to push him away, but the words that fall from my lips betray me.

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