Page 67 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

WILLOW

“Oh my God, what happened?” I shriek, running towards the elevator where Cast stands covered in blood, Damien has busted knuckles and Vincent looks perfectly tailored with a distant look in his eye.

My hands cup Cast’s face, but he just grabs my hands with his. Damien walks past us and drones, “Don’t worry, it’s not his blood.”

I recoil, moving Cast’s face from side to side. “Whose blood is this?”

“Don’t worry about it, Princess.” Vincent whispers, moving my hair and kissing the curve of my neck but my eyes stay locked on Cast, who stares at me with crazed eyes full of adrenaline and lust.

“We’re a big happy family again,” Cast’s voice is low as he whispers, dripping with a mix of mockery and something darker that makes my stomach twist even as my body betrays me, heating up at the soundof it.

“Isn’t that what you wanted, Willow?” I drop my hands and take a step back but he follows me. “Your three guys to be best friends again?”

My body lights up like fire, because if Cast is saying he killed someone for me, for us, that is the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.

“Cast,” I whisper. “What did you do?”

"You should be thanking me," he murmurs, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. His gaze watches me like he can see every flicker of emotion crossing my face. "I did what needed to be done. What youwanteddone."

I shouldn't be reacting like this. My stomach should be twisting with disgust, with horror. Instead, my pulse pounds in my ears, my body betraying me as heat curls low in my gut.

"Say it," he urges, his lips barely moving. "Say you're grateful, Willow."

I shake my head, stepping back again, but there's nowhere to go. The couch is at my back, and Cast presses forward, caging me in with both hands on either side of my hips. His dark eyes flick down to my lips, and my breath stutters.

"I'm not scared of you," I whisper, my voice defiant even as it shakes.

His lips twitch. "I know, that’s one of the reasons I am obsessed with you, Cariña. You are everything you shouldn’t be.”

“Why do you think I call her Trouble?” Damien teases, leaning over the opposite side of the couch on my left and whispering in my ear.

“Damien, what did you guys do?” I shake, my eyes locked on the moss green hue of Cast’s eyes.

"You like this, don’t you?" His voice is nothing but a rasp now, taunting, amused. "Knowing I’d doanythingfor you. That I already have."

His fingers skim my waist, and I shudder. Every part of me is on fire.

I exhale sharply. "You’re insane."

"And you," he breathes, leaning in so close I can feel his words against my lips, "love it."

Vincent steps closer and leans over the couch on my right side, his hand tangling in my hair, yanking my head back sharply. “You know, it’s been too long since you’ve crawled for us,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. The words send a shiver down my spine, and I can feel the heat pooling between my thighs despite the fear clawing at the edges of my mind.

Cast steps back looking down at the way I twist my thighs and pull my shoulders forward to make myself smaller under his gaze.

“Go on,” Damien adds, his voice smooth and commanding. “Show us how much you’ve missed us.”

I obey without hesitation. My knees hit the floor almost automatically, the hard surface biting into my skin as I lower myself onto all fours. I begin to crawl, their eyes burning into me like brands. The room is silent except for the sound of my own sharp breaths and the occasional drip of blood from Cast’s fingertips onto the floor as he unbuttons his shirt.

His bloody hands reach for me as I move toward him, and I flinch when he touches my face, smearing astreak of red across my cheek. “Look at you,” he murmurs, a twisted smile playing on his lips. “Our little pet, always so eager to please.”

I didn’t respond, can’t respond, not with Vincent and Damien both undressed to their boxers circling me like wolves. Damien’s hand trails down my back, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my satin pink sleep shorts and tugging it down roughly. I felt the cool air hit my bare skin, and I bite my lip to stifle the whimper that threatens to escape.

“Good girl,” Damien groans, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You always look so pretty on your knees, don’t you?”

I don’t answer, not that it matters. Cast’s hand is back in my hair, guiding—no, forcing—me to crawl forward. Vincent’s voice is a low growl,“Faster, Willow. Show us how much you want this.”

I obey, crawling faster, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My palms scrape against the floor, and my knees ache, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Not with them watching, not with their desire pressing down on me like a weight.

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