Page 34 of Whispers of Ruin

Without warning, his touch lands on my breast.

I gasp—not surprisingly, but from the sheer urgency in the way he moves. No teasing. Just hunger, hands gripping my waist, pressing me back against the wall, his body flush against mine. A gloved hand skims up my thigh, pushing the fabric of my dress higher. My breath catches.

Still… something feels off. The way he touches me—it is not the same. There is no slow, careful build-up. No controlled dominance. Just impatience.

My fingers grip his wrist.

“You are different tonight,” I murmur. “Less… refined.”

His head tilts as he finally speaks for the first time of the night.

“Disappointed?”

The voice is wrong.

A chill slams me violently, as if I have been doused in ice water. My stomach clenches. My heart stutters. I shove at his torso, hard. He barely stumbles.

“Take off the mask,” I demand.

To my horror, he does—no hesitation. The second the mask is gone, I know. The smirk on his face is cruel, mocking.

Not him. Not him. Not him. That is not Xan.

I turn to run, but he’s faster. A hand fists in my hair, yanking me backward. Pain flares down my scalp as I am thrown to the ground, my breath knocking out in a sharp gasp.

As he crawls on my body, I thrash. He grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head, his breath hot against my cheek as he chuckles darkly.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” while pressing his knee between my thighs. “You looked so eager a second ago.”

Panic claws at my throat. I scream. I writhe beneath him, my breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. His grip tightens around my wrists, his gloved fingers biting into my skin as he leans in closer. I snarl, twisting my body, but his weight is suffocating.

Not him. Not Xan.

“Get the fuck off me!” My voice is a breathless snarl, but it only amuses him.

“Why?” he laughs. “Because I’m nothim, Xan? Needhispermission maybe?”

I freeze. His hand drags along the inside of my thigh.

“An anonymous man in a mask,” he muses. “Or another. What does it change, really, once you lay on your belly?”

My stomach turns. “Fuck you,” I spit, bucking hard against him. His hold tightens, but I see it now—that flicker of thrill in his expression, the power trip. He thinks he has already won.

Fool.

I throw my knee up, aiming for anything I can reach. Expecting it, his hand catches my thigh, squeezing hard enough to make me wince. He leans in, his breath warm and vile against my ear.

“Come on baby, you came here looking for a masked man to wreck you. Does it really matter which one it is? Just close your eyes and let a real man finally rail you how you have been craving.”

I should have never dared challenge life like this. I should have listened to Xan, stayed in the safety of his presence, let him protect me like he always promised.

But no, I had to push; I had to test the limits and now look at me—trapped in this goddamn nightmare, tangled in my own mess.

I hate the place I’m in right now, the helplessness that is creeping in. More than anything, I hate myself for stepping so far into danger, for thinking that I could play with fire and not get burned. I hate myself for ever believing he would always be there to pull me from the flames, to save me from whatever I got myself into.

Because now I see—he is not here, and I am completely fucking alone.

The rush of blood in my ears drowns everything else out. My limbs lock up. My stomach is lurching. I fucked up. His hold crushes my arm, yanking me closer. I jerk back, twisting hard, but he’s stronger. The back of my head slams against the wall, pain exploding through my skull. He moves in, pressing me into the door, his knee nudging between my thighs.

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