Page 4 of Orion Ruined

His eyes narrow. “A rat’s blood?”

“Yeah. Someone tried to kill her and got the rat instead.”

“Who?” Kai snarls. He’s always taking the side of the weaker person, be they a man or a woman.

“She won’t say.”

“We’ll make her,” he snaps.

“Right now, one thing I want to make her is–”

The door of the bathroom opens slightly, and I stop. We don’t see her, but we hear her smoky voice.

“Um, are there any clothes I could change into? Mine are not wearable.”

“I’m sorry. There are none.” My pervy heart rejoices that I may look at this angel’s perfect skin longer.

The door opens fully and she comes out, her wet hair draped over one shoulder, her body wrapped in a towel that I’m jealous of, and her arms crossed over her chest. Kai and I both suck in a breath. We’re rarely in the company of a normal girl, one who hasn’t been passed around and ruined. We don’t move, but I bet she sees the fire in my eyes, and probably in Kai’s, because she questions my earlier promise.

“I’m safe here, right?” She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Um, yes. Yes, you are. Kai, stop looking.”

She trusts me, I see it in her eyes. But why? I’m a thug. I’ve killed people. I’ve tortured more. Not one living soul trusts me these days and yet, somehow, she does–why? And why am I smitten?

Kai doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re in the safest place on earth, baby girl. I assure you.”

Huh. Look at him. There’s still sap in his balls, I guess. He’s been gloomy and indifferent to every one of the girls we sent his way in the past year. And now this. Good. Fucking great.

I study the girl in front of us, trying to drink in her normal, sweet, innocent presence as much as I can.

God, are you messing with me?

Long, dark curls fall over her shoulder, and eyes as black as onyx stare at us with pure guilelessness. Her rosy cheeks and full lips are still flushed from the shower, a warning of what’s coming next as my eyes travel south to her breasts. Those are the last things you want to lay your head on before you die. Abundant, and virginal.

“What’s your name?” Kai asks.

She looks up at him through thick lashes. “Maisy Roy.”

“Do you know where you are, Maisy?”

She nods. “Orion Carte’s house. Is he here?”

“He will be shortly,” I reply. I want to bathe in those dark, bottomless pools of hers, but I also want her to know who’s in charge. “And it’s ‘O-RYON.’ I’m sure he’ll say something if you mispronounce his name.” I chuckle. “I’m Logan, this is Kai. We’re his associates. Nice to meet you.”

CHAPTER 2

MAISY

With only a towel wrapped around my body, I exhale the breath I was holding. I’m alive, and safe. The gunshot sound was still resonating in my head just before I fainted, having followed me all day since I was shot at. And when I saw Camila the witch getting inside the house, I had to enter too. My ears are still ringing now. I’m a wanted person. The Slavs are looking for me, the assholes from the pits of hell that someone should kill already. The bounty on my head is high and if I show my face anywhere, that’s it, game over. And why? Because I don’t give up. That demon Milan has taken the most precious thing from me and I’ll be damned if I don’t get it back.

The answer lies somewhere inside his files. It took me years to sift through most of them, which unfortunately got me plenty of information on his enemies rather than on himself. It seems that his life is devoted to taking down the Cartes, Delgados, and Vitalis of New York, after which he plans on widening his scope, but that’s not my concern. At the moment, I’m here, and I’m taking a different approach. I have no other options, even though I know I’m playing with fire. It’s either that or becoming one of Milan’s whores. I was stupid to think I’d go unnoticed for so long.

At least for the time being, I know I’m safe here. Also, on the plus side, the men in front of me, Kai and Logan, don’t seem to want to violate my body.

I haven’t seen their faces before, which makes it harder for me to guess who they are. Give me names, addresses, photos, numbers–anything, really, and I’ll remember it. My photographic memory has been a curse throughout my life. People have tried to use me, and many succeeded. My ability to merely glance at anything for it to become etched in my head is the reason why Milan kept me alive.

It’s also the reason I don’t own a cellphone or a laptop. To me, everything I see becomes information my brain chooses to keep, and at times it’s overwhelming. It weighs me down like an anchor, each day heavier.

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