Page 15 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

He finally looks at me, and the storm in his gaze nearly knocks the air from my lungs.

“You’rebarelyhere,” he grits out.

I shake my head. “But Iamhere. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Cast swallows hard, his eyes darting across my face like he’s trying to memorize every detail. His hand is still pressed against my chest, feeling every unsteady thrum of my heart. But my vision swims, black spots creeping in at the edges. I’m not sure if I can stay upright much longer.

He looks away, but I tug at his wrist, pulling him back to me.

His other hand comes up instinctively, catching my waist as I stumble closer, and then, suddenly, we’retooclose—his breath warm against my skin, his fingers digging into my side like he’s anchoring himself.

My hands slide up, past the ridges of muscle in his arms, over his shoulders, until my fingers brush the back of his neck.

“Cast,” I breathe—or try to. The name barely escapes before my chest tightens like a vice, crushing the air from my lungs.

And then hebreaks.

With a sharp inhale, his hands tighten, yanking me against him as his mouth crashes down on mine. The kiss is not soft. It’s not careful. It’s desperate, consuming, furious. His lips move against mine with a desperation that steals the air from my lungs, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that leaves no room for hesitation, no room for doubt.

My heart jerks violently, skipping, stuttering, then racing too fast—too uneven—like it doesn’t belong inside me. A foreign, failing thing, but I push through because his lips on mine feel too good after too long.

My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as I kiss him back with everything I’ve been holding inside. Every fear, every regret, every ounce of longing I’ve tried to bury—it all pours into this moment, into this kiss. I want him to kiss the life back into me.

His hands slide down my back, gripping my hips as he presses me against the wall of the elevator. The cold metal bites into my skin, but I don’t care. All I can think about is the heat of his body against mine, the way his mouth feels against mine, the way he’s holding me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.

“You’re not allowed,” he growls against my lips, his voice rough, raw. “You’re not allowed to run away from me again. Ever.”

I gasp as his teeth nip at my lower lip, the sharp sting only fueling the fire building inside me. “Cast?—”

“No,” he interrupts, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes blazing with a heat that makes my heart ache. “You’re not allowed to be sick without telling me. You’re not allowed to push me away. And you’redefinitelynot allowed to die.”

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, stealing the air from my lungs. My pulse flutters, erratic and weak one second, then slamming against my ribs the next, and I open my mouth to suck in some much needed breath, but he doesn’t let me. His lips crash into mine again, his hands sliding up my sides, under my gown, his touch searing against my skin.

I moan into his mouth, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring every corner of my mouth. Every inch of me is on fire, every nerve alive with the sensation of his touch, his taste,his heat.

But then—my chest tightens. A breath catches, stuck somewhere between my ribs. The fire inside me turns into an inferno, burning me alive, but I welcome the pain.

My pulse pounds erratically as my body struggles to keep up. My fingers clench harder, not just from pleasure but from desperation, my grip on him the only thing anchoring me to the moment.

His lips trail down my jaw, my neck, leaving a path of needed ice in their wake, cooling my heated flesh.

“Do you hear me, Willow?” he murmurs against my skin, his breath cool against my throat. “You’re not allowed to leave me. Not now. Not ever.”

I try to answer, but all that comes out is a shallow, trembling breath. I shiver as his teeth graze my collarbone, my hands fisting in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

He pulls back, his eyes searching mine for any hint of doubt, any trace of hesitation. When he finds none, he kisses me again, softer this time, but no less urgent. His hands slide down to my thighs, gripping me as he lifts me off the ground, pressing me against the wall.

My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, my core pressing against the hard length of him through his jeans. A low groan escapes his lips as he grinds against me, the friction sending a wave of heat straight to my core.

“Cast,” I gasp, my head falling back against the wall as his lips trail down my neck. “We’re in an elevator.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, his hands sliding under my thighs, his fingers digging into my skin. “I don’t care where we are. I just care that you’re here. That you’re mine.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I tighten my legs around him, pulling him closer. “I’m yours,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

His lips find mine again, his kiss searing, possessive, as if he’s trying to brand me with his touch. His hands slide up my back, gripping the back of my hospital gown as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that leaves me?—

Breathless. Too breathless.

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