Ruin & Rule
“Like what you see?”
I jumped, tearing my eyes from him and cursing the flush heating my cheeks. I wanted to hide, or jump him. No, I would prefer to touch and kiss and suck.
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Yes. I’ve enjoyed watching you since we met.”
His eyes narrowed, taking a step closer. “And when exactly was that?” His voice lashed with both violence and softness, his face not giving anything away. “When did we meet?”
“I don’t know what you want to hear,” I murmured. “That I have two answers? The one where you tore my blindfold and I found you again, or—”
“Give me the truth.” He prowled closer, his body taut. “Tell me what you’ve been trying to say. Give me that answer.”
I lowered my chin, hope fluttering with feathered wings inside. “Are you prepared to listen?”
Are you prepared to stop hurting me after everything you’ve done?
My breath disappeared as his wet hands captured my cheeks, tilting my head up, giving me no choice but to look directly at him. “Why did you come find me?”
His gaze fell to his leather jacket engulfing my small frame—my very naked frame. Hints of flesh were revealed thanks to the open zipper each time I breathed. The heavy density protected me from the unreadable gleam in his eyes.
“Because we need to talk,” I whispered. “Because you need to explain to me what you saw back there. Why you’re angry with me. Why you ran the moment we got back.”
He sucked in a breath, but kept all his emotions locked from view.
He took forever to reply. “I ran because I needed some time.”
“Time for what?”
“Time to figure this out. To come to terms with what a fucking asshole I’ve been. To figure out if there is any fucking way you can forgive me.”
My heart thundered in my ears. “We need to talk. About everything.”
I need answers before I can forgive you.
“And if I said I needed more time? What would you do?” His fingers tightened on my cheeks. “If I said I wasn’t ready to have my entire life be a lie, to have my world and everything I’ve been working toward for the last eight years be complete and utter bullshit, what would you say?” His blazing green gaze licked with rage and pain.
I second-guessed myself. I should’ve waited. Given him the space he needed. He’d been moody, violent, and up till a few hours ago, planned to sell me to the highest bidder. Why did I think miraculously he would be willing to talk?
Stupid. So stupid.
But I didn’t want to wait. I had to know.
In that moment, I saw a different side of him—a man who controlled his world with an unyielding iron fist, with no room for surprises. A man whose world had just been ripped apart.
I trembled in his hold. “Why did you stop the sale today?”
He twitched. “I—” He squeezed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “You know why.”
“No. I don’t. I need to hear it from you.”
His eyes were tortured as they came up, slightly glassy, fully mistrustful. “How is this even possible—I thought—”
I begged, “Please, tell me what you know.”
Kill shook his head, sending droplets flying before looking straight into my soul. “I—I need—I’ve done so much—” He cut himself off, glancing at the floor. “I can’t do this.”
Sickness rolled at the thought of him pulling away. “You can do this. Trust in us.”
His fingers caressed my cheeks for an endless moment. “I don’t—” His chest rose and fell as he sucked in a heavy breath. “Okay.”
I shivered. Such a simple word but it held such a weighty promise.
“I’m ready to understand.”
My heart wedged itself in my throat.
Please, let everything become clear.
“What did you see to make you believe?”
A flash of agony filled his face then was gone. His jaw clenched. “I’ll give you the answers you need, but first, I need to hear it from you.” Bowing his head, so his forehead brushed against mine, he whispered, “How and when did we meet? Tell me.”
Ow. It hurt. So much.
My eyes filled with tears at the oozing blood and gravel on my kneecap. I couldn’t stop my wobbling lip as pain lanced. The bike rested beside me, the bright pink frame dusty and scratched. Daddy would be so mad at me.
“You okay?”
I looked up, clutching my kneecap with white fingers. A boy I’d seen living across the courtyard from me smiled, squatting in front of my bike.
“Who are you?” I asked, wincing from another heat-wash of pain.
“Art. And you?”
“Hurt.”
He laughed. “I saw you fall. You were going too fast.”
I pouted. “No, I wasn’t.”
Shuffling closer, his grubby hands reached for my wound. “Better get your mom to fix you. I see germs in there already.”
My mouth plopped open in horror. “Really?”
Standing, he awkwardly leaned down and grabbed my arm. Wrapping it around his bony shoulders, he smiled. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
I blinked. My knee still throbbed with the phantom pain of the past. “I don’t know how old I was, maybe four or five. You took me home after I scraped my knee—”
“From falling off your bike,” Kill finished. His face twisted with heartbreaking amazement. “How—how is this possible?”