Page 267 of Ruins
I should be logical about this. I was attacked earlier today and now Santo is hurting the person who hurt me.
No. Scythe iskillingthe person who hurt me.
Santo hurts bad guys. But that person isn’t justanybad guy. That person is Jude. My ex-boyfriend. Someone I knew.
Until he punched me in the face.
My brain can’t rationalize it. So I run.
I slam my finger against the elevator button so hard I think it won’t register, but it does. The doors glide open. I scramble inside, frantically jabbing the button to my room. My heart pounds as the doors start to close—
But just before they shut, Scythe steps in.
I scream, startled, as he looms inches away, his presence overwhelming.
I didn’t think he’d follow.
I didn’t think he’d dare.
But here he is, slipping into the confined space, the scent of blood and vanilla clinging to him like a warning.
The silence is suffocating. The only sound is the low hum of the elevator.
His dark eyes pin me in place. Scythe steps closer. I shrink back instinctively, my spine pressing into the cold metal wall. He doesn’t stop until he’s caged me in, his body an inescapable force. His head dips low and he breathes me in.
The sound is deep and drawn out, like he’s savoring me.
“Vasilisa,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, his breath warm against my ear.
He nuzzles into me, his face brushing against mine. I want to recoil—to pull away from the sting of his touch on my bruised cheek, from the blood smearing onto my skin.
But I freeze.
Then his lips press to the pulse at my throat, and he stills.
“Breathe,” he commands, his voice like steel, pinning me in place.
I obey. A shaky breath rattles through my chest just as the elevator doors slide open into our bedroom closet.
Now.
I duck out from under his arms and dart into the closet, rushing toward the bedroom.
But he’s faster.
He catches me in an instant, scooping me up and pushing me against the bedroom wall.
Pinned.
A startled gasp escapes me as his strength holds me captive. My legs instinctively wrap around him, trying to anchor myself.
He grunts. A low, primal growl rumbles from deep in his chest as his lips claim my neck, each heated kiss sending a shiver through me.
His hands move with urgency, gripping the fabric of my shirt.
A sharp rip splits the air.
I bite down hard on my lip, trying to swallow a scream, but a shaky gasp betrays me.
