Page 43 of Bound By Ruin

“I could hurt you really badly?—”

“Hold it.” His eyes flash silver as he grabs my hips. “Donotlet go.” Dragging my body over his, he presses my core to his hard length and thrusts, hissing through his teeth as his cock slides between my lips. We moan in unison as he drags through my slick folds, but it’s me who cries out as he punches up and bumps my clit, sending sparks of heat deep into my belly.

The knife slips on his next thrust, cutting into his skin. He groans, pushing my hips down until the tip of his cock slips inside. As crimson blood drips down the knife and the side of his neck, his cock jerks, spilling his seed. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I drop the knife and apply pressure to the wound, wrapping my hand around his neck and squeezing.

As he draws a lungful of air, he grabs my wrist and pries it from his neck. The cut isn’t deep, but it’s long, spanning a few inches. When he swallows, blood flows faster, trailing down his neck and pooling in the dip of his collarbone. “Pick it up,” he rumbles, staring into my eyes. “Pick it up, krosotka.”

He doesn’t let go until I’ve put the knife back to his neck. Seemingly satisfied, he brushes the tip of his nose against the column of my throat and sighs. “I am not like my brothers,” he says after a moment. His teeth scrape my pulse point, with his tongue quickly following the same path. “I can’t give you the same things. I’m…” Shivering, he presses a gentle kiss to my carotid artery. “Haunted.” Lifting his face to mine, he stares deeply into my eyes, his gaze pinging back and forth between them. “But you are not,” he muses, sighing against my lips. “Your soul is bright,krosotka.Mine is…” He purses his lips. “Ash.”

“Hey,” I breathe, careful not to move the knife again, “hey, I don’t believe that.”

Humming in the back of his throat, he taps his fingertips against the side of my ribs. “We’re all trapped in cages. Your heart and mine. Forced to keep beating, because no one can reach it.” He hooks his fingers, digging into my flesh hard enough to hurt. I wince, and he stops, grunting. “I can cut it out. Make the pain go away. I’ve done it before, with the others.” Wrapping his arms around me, he holds me close, enveloping me in the warmth of his body. I pull the knife away just in time to avoid causing more damage, but this time, he doesn’t tell me to put it back. He buries his face in my hair and inhales, shuddering. Quietly, he mutters, “I don’t want you to haunt me. I want your soul to stay next to mine.”

I carefully set the knife down on the floor and reach for Ruin’s hand, lacing our fingers together. His blood sticks to our skin, fusing our palms. With my other hand, I press down on his throat and push him back a few inches, keeping my thumb over the deepest part of the cut. Thankfully, I didn’t hit anything major, but it was close.

Reallyclose.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him. “My soul is staying right here next to my heart.”

“Next to mine,” Ruin whispers, his eyes swirling like pools of molten silver.

Lifting myself higher on my knees, I brush my lips over his. “Next to yours. Just like this.” Gently, I press my mouth to his, like we’ve done a few times before. It takes him a moment to react, like he’s still unsure about this part, but that’s okay with me. I already have two overbearing kissers—I don’t need a third.

We kiss slowly, taking our time to explore our connection. I kiss the corner of his mouth over his scars, and he shivers but doesn’t pull away, letting me slide my tongue across his lips. I sigh into his mouth when he lets me in, and I’m the one to deepen the kiss, clutching his throat as I push him down onto his back. The knife lay forgotten by his side as I lay on top of him, long locks of my hair falling over my shoulder, the ends tickling his chest. He wraps his hand in the strands and pulls, getting blood in my hair as he drags me down for another kiss.

Aharderone.

Our teeth knock together, and I smile, giddy with excitement and nerves and what little adrenaline remains in my system. Ruin grunts as his cock slides out of my pussy, his body shuddering beneath mine and his breaths ragged.

It must still be sensitive.

I wonder if he’s ever been with a woman before, but then I remember all the times that Rebel has shown Ruin what to do, and I realize that I’m probably his first. If the kissing wasn’t a give away, then the way he looks at me is.

Wide, owl eyes, and a look of wonder that makes me blush. He brushes his knuckles across my rosy cheek, then lowers them to my matching nipple. As his gaze shifts between the two, I study his face, then carefully press my lips to his forehead.

“Let’s get you bandaged up, okay?” I scan his body for injuries, but although his burns look fresh and the new skin even fresher, he doesn’t complain as I prod him with two of my fingertips, like the medic Serena taught me while we were at The Box. Ruin lets me poke and press his abdomen, his ribs, everywhere that should hurt.

“I told you before,” he muses, a soft smile curving on his lips. “You won’t find one.” He touches the wound on his neck and grunts. “I have no weak spots,krosotka.”

“Hm.” I stare into his dark eyes and try not to say what’s on my mind… because if he learns that loving someone is a weakness…

Well, he won’t havezeroweak spots anymore.

He’ll have four… just like the rest of us.

Chapter17

Ruin

For as long asI can remember, my body has always felt tight. Like I’m a snake trying to shed my skin, but I can’t scratch enough, bleed enough, hurt enough to break free. Stuck in a perpetual cycle of discomfort with little to ease the tension.

When the pressure builds into a constant buzz in my skull, there are few things that help.

Killing is one of them. Ripping through muscle and sinew is more therapeutic than five hours in the gym with Rage or smoking on the rooftop with Rebel. It’s the final moment when the soul leaves the body—the ultimate transcendence—that eases the tension the most.

I’ve always thought that witnessing Celia’s own transcendence into the ether would be the ultimate gift, the one thing that would finally ease the tension racking my bones… and yet, somehowthisis better than anything I ever imagined.

The weight of Celia’s body on mine is a balm to my frayed nerves—a full-bodied relief that calms the steady ache in my bones. Air rushes from my lungs and she breathes it in, our bodies moving to the rhythm of our hearts, of our souls.

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