Page 48 of Ravaged Saints

The thing is, she was wrong—Knox was right. I wasn’t drunk enough to forget, to be unaware. I knew exactly what I was doing; Iwantedhim to kiss me, to touch me, and the alcohol didn’t make me reckless. It just stripped away my hesitation.

When he kissed me, my heart felt like it was trying to break free from my chest. That kiss… God. Are all the men here trained to kiss like that? Because Knox didn’t just kiss me. He consumed me, leaving me melting like chocolate in the sun.

I hear a click at the door, followed by a knock, and my brow furrows waiting for whoever it is to enter, but the door stays shut.

“Yes?” I call, climbing out of bed slowly, my body still heavy from sleep.

“Can I open the door?” Ryker’s voice comes through, soft and almost careful.

I chuckle at the tone. Definitely not Knox; he wouldn’t bother knocking. Max and Dante knock, sure, but they never wait for an answer. “Yeah,” I say, grabbing my clothes. “I really need to use the bathroom.”

When the door opens, Ryker steps in, his dark eyes meeting mine with an easy playfulness that feels… new. There’s a slight smile tugging at his lips, and for a second, it disarms me.

“Good morning,” he says, a touch of mischief in his tone.

I smile back, rushing past him. “Good morning.” My words trail off as I run into the bathroom, just in time to avoid peeing myself.

I wash up and dress while Ryker waits outside, calmly looking around. “You’re more patient than the others,” I say, raising an eyebrow as I tie my shoes.

“I’m also your keeper this morning, so I don’t have much of a choice,” he teases, giving me a mock bow. “Milady.”

I laugh, shaking my head as we head up the stairs together. The closer we get to the main room, the stronger the smell of pancakes becomes, and my stomach growls; my mouth waters.

As soon as we reach the table, Max slides a plate in front of me—two pancakes topped with blueberries and what looks like honey. “Morning.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, taking a seat as Ryker sits across from me with his plate.

“So, what are your plans for today, Aspen?” Max asks; his tone is casual but curious.

I glance at him, chewing thoughtfully. “I was going to keep working on the garden.” My words trail off as Knox walks into the room. His presence is as overwhelming as ever.

His dark eyes sweep over the table, and for a moment, they linger on me; heat blooms in my cheeks, and I drop my gaze, suddenly very interested in my pancakes.

“Morning,” Max greets him, his tone easy, unaffected.

“Morning,” Knox mutters, the sound rough, scraping through the air like gravel. His shoulders roll back, tension clinging to him like a second skin.

“Morning,” I mumble, barely audible, my courage from last night long gone. The alcohol has left my system, and with it, my boldness. I’m not sure how to act around him now, with the memory of his kiss still fresh, still burning.

Knox doesn’t say anything else, but I can feel his eyes on me as I eat.

I take a deep breath as I finish my pancakes. The weight of the room is pressing down on me. “I was wondering,” I say, trembling more than I intended. All eyes shift to me, and the words stick in my throat. “If I could go with Ryker near the river. There are plants and flowers… good for teas, medicinal.”

The silence stretches as I lift my gaze, meeting Knox’s stare. He’s stopped eating, fork frozen mid-air, his eyes locked on mine, and I can feel my cheeks burning under the intensity of his gaze.

“Or maybe not,” I mumble, standing quickly to clear my plate, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.

“Not with Ryker,” Knox says, his tone sharp enough to slice through the air. “I’ll take you.”

I turn around to look at him. My pulse is deafening in my ears as panic tightens in my chest. Not Knox, anyone but him.

“I’ll tag along if you don’t mind,” Dante’s calls from the living room as he steps into view, hair tousled; his black shirt stretched over his broad chest and muscular arms. He’s smirking, his eyes full of amusement.

“Sure,” Knox replies, rising from his chair with an unsettling calm. “Let’s go, Aspen.”

He gestures toward the door, where Dante waits with a rifle slung casually in one hand.

“Expecting trouble?” I ask, eyeing the weapon.

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