Page 79 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

His hands still. For a moment, I think he’s going to avoid answering. But then he exhales, his thumb brushing against my temple.

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re my everything, Willow. Without you, I might as well be dead.”

Vincent's words settle over me like a warm embrace, their weight sinking into my bones. “You’re my everything.”He says it likeit’s undeniable, like it’s law—like no one, not even fate, can take me from him.

I snort, pushing the warmth away, drawing my knees to my chest and digging my chin in between them. “You’re exaggerating, and ridiculous.”

Vincent pushes his fingers into my hair, pressing firmly on my scalp. The pressure feels good but the second I am about to moan he pulls me back with a snarl. “Come again, princess?”

“Vincent, I am not everything to you.” I snap, his eyes darken to the blue deep ocean hue. “I can’t be.”

“Willow, you are the air I breathe. The food I eat. The person I want to spend eternity with. You are my reason to live. When are you going to believe that?”

I let my eyes slip shut, surrendering to the way he cares for me. “Maybe someday I can, but I believe in you, Vin.”

Vincent sighs, his hands kneading at my back, working through the tension wound so tightly in my muscles, and I melt under his touch. The stress, the pain, the heartbreak—it all dulls under Vincent’s hands, replaced with something warm, something steady.

He dips lower, lips pressing against the top of my breast, his breath warm against my skin.

My throat tightens, my breath catching in my chest. I reach out, threading my fingers through his dark hair, tugging him closer.

He chuckles softly, kissing his way back up to my jaw before capturing my lips in a slow, deep kiss—one that tells me exactly what he means.

30

VINCENT

I sitbehind my desk in the study, my fingers wrapped around the tumbler, my chest tight with something that no amount of alcohol could dull. Two fingers worth. Just enough to burn, not enough to drown in. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting long shadows across my study, but it does nothing to warm the cold sinking into my bones.

How could they do this to her?After everything, just leave both her and me.

I stare at the phone in my other hand, my thumb hovering over the call button. I don’t hesitate—I never do—but this is different. This isn’t business. This isn’t a clean kill, an easy fix. This is them. These are my brothers, nothing can divide us. We share everything. We mean everything to each other.

The phone rings twice before Cast picks up.

“What the fuck do you want, Vincent?” His voice is clipped, sharp. Already pissed. Good. Saves me the trouble of pretending this conversation will go any other way.

I roll the glass between my fingers. “You already know why I’m calling.”

Then Damien, quieter but no less lethal. “To rub it in our face that you’re marrying our girl.”

I exhale, already feeling the weight of the fallout before it even happens. “I love her. You know what Willow does to me, because you both love her. And that she loves all of us.”

There’s a pause—just long enough for the words to sink in—before Cast lets out a short, bitter laugh.

“Youloveher?” He sounds almost amused, like the very idea is a joke. “You think the problem is that youloveher? No, the problem is you proposed to her, like that was your place? You stole her from us.”

I set the glass down with a dullthunk.“She wasalonein art school, and I?—”

“You have always been selfish, Vincent. Lucky rich boy with all the money in the world, no responsibilities, can’t share one thing in his fucking life.” Cast snaps.

“I am sharing. But when I went to get her two years ago, what did you say, Cast?”

“What?”

I run my bottom lip between my teeth, a snarl rolling through my lips before I can stop it. “You said if she is set on running, then let her run.”

Damien growls. “We didn’t-”

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