Page 101 of Ruthless God

We stay wrapped in each other for days.

Somehow, food appears, left silently at the door, like some unspoken understanding exists between us and whoever lurks beyond these walls.

I don’t question it. I don’t question anything. Because right now, nothing else matters.

Not the casket.

Not the mystery.

Not even Gabriel.

Not the man trying to kill my sperm donor.

The only thing I focus on is Claudius and the way he makes me feel like I belong to him. Like I always have.

21

Claudius

Cecely’s lips part on a soft, broken gasp as she shatters around me, her body trembling in my arms. The air between us is thick with steam, curling around our skin, wrapping us in a world that feels separate from everything outside this moment.

I hold her tighter, anchoring her against me until the shaking stops, until her breaths even out, her heartbeat slowing in sync with mine.

Her head rests against my chest, damp strands of hair sticking to my skin.

“I never want to move,” she murmurs, her voice hushed, almost dreamlike.

I know the feeling.

The last few days have been…fuck. I’ve never experienced anything like this. Never felt this consuming pull, this raw, unrelenting need that has turned hours into days, and days into something outside of time itself.

Being with her feels like I’ve finally come home.

I run a hand down her spine, slow, deliberate, committing every inch of her to memory. Because as much as I want this to last forever, I know it can’t. And the real world? It’s waiting for us. Waiting to pull us back into the storm we’ve ignored for too long.

I haven’t checked my phone in days.

Haven’t thought about why my brother’s grave is empty.

Haven’t questioned why Cecely’s stomach has a slight roundness to it—something I noticed in passing but never let myself think too much about.

That all stops today.

Because as soon as we leave this room, we’re going to get answers. And I have a feeling neither of us will like what we find. As soon as I decide, something shifts. The air feels thicker, the weight of reality pressing in from the edges of the world we’ve locked ourselves in.

I step out of the shower first, grabbing a towel, running a hand over my face, forcing myself to get back into the mindset I need.

Focus. Control. Answers.

Cecely follows, her movements slower, more languid, her body still glowing from the last few days we’ve spent tangled together. The bruises on her neck from my teeth already starting to fade. She doesn’t feel the shift yet. But I do.

I grab my phone from the nightstand. Dead.

Figures.

“I’m not surprised your phone is dead,” she says, looking up at me. “You were on it when you weren’t inside of me.”

I snort. “Thank god for lightning chargers.”

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