Dancing with the Devil (Ravens Ruin MC 3)

“I had a bad night,” I mutter.

“You’ve had a lot of bad nights recently.” He leans in, but there’s something different in his eyes. It’s nothing like looking into the eyes of those frat assholes I’m so familiar with. It’s threatening all the same, but there’s also a thrill in his irises, an unexplainable promise of so many unspoken things.

“You were there that night.” The words leave my lips the second my brain knows it’s true.

“Which night?”

I don’t shy away from him when his fingertip traces a design on my cheek.

“You killed those men.” My voice is nothing but a rasp.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Terrified,” I confess.

He pulls back the very next second, giving me his back as he walks across the room, and I realize I’ve never felt fear before in my life until he turns back around with a gleaming knife in his hand.

“You’re a very smart woman then.”Chapter 16TJ

I have to look over at Kaci twice to make sure she’s still breathing. I haven’t hurt her or anything. Other than sweeping my fingers over her cheek ten minutes ago and helping her sit up in the bed, I haven’t touched her. Resisting the urge has become a full-body workout.

I know it’s the knife. Most smart people are terrified of it, as they should be. Her fear doesn’t keep me from twisting the tip into my palm, but I know she hasn’t taken her eyes off it for a single second.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” I almost follow up the statement with the truth but specifying today right now doesn’t seem like it would be very productive.

“You threatened me at the bar.” There’s more than fear in her voice right now, and I know immediately what she’s referencing.

I almost say the words out loud, almost taunt her with my delicious threat, but before I can get the words, I can make you come with just the tip of my blade out of my mouth, I’m reminded of her response that night.

You can cut me, but I won’t come. They never let me come.

I thought she was referring to the men she sought out at the frat houses and parties she went to, but after what Virus discovered, I can’t help but think it’s those ten months in captivity that she was speaking about.

My eyes refocus on the TV. Some stupid sitcom is playing, but neither one of us has made a move to turn up the volume. I haven’t because I’m enjoying the sound of her frantic breaths. She’s probably too afraid to move, but at the same time, I think she lives for the adrenaline she must be feeling.

“I woke up this morning planning to kill my sister’s lover.”

Lover.

What a simple word for something so fucking complicated.

Fuck, even after watching Briar so willing to die for Molly this morning, the thought of my kid sister having sex still kind of makes my skin crawl. I don’t even understand the sentiment, but I appreciate his dedication to her.

Kaci’s frantic breaths stop, but I don’t say another word until she’s near passing out and forced to gasp for oxygen.

“Lynch, that’s my older brother and the club president,” I explain, “had the rope around his neck, and I was just biding my time, waiting until I could sink my blade into his skin for not being man enough to confess his feelings to us. I had to wait. There’s a hierarchy in the club. Lynch is number one, but man was it a sight to see his number two, his best friend and VP, teetering on his toes with that rope around his neck.”

Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift back to this morning.

“What happened?”

My teeth scrape over my bottom lip to keep from smiling at her question. She’s a curious little kitty.

“The fucker was willing to kill himself so my sister wouldn’t feel the pain of knowing her brothers were responsible for his death.”

She huffs a humorless laugh, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. At this rate, I’ll have sores all over my mouth.

“What?” Turning my head, I look her in the eyes, hating the swollen lids and purple coloring on her cheeks. “You don’t believe in love?”

“Love doesn’t exist,” she replies without a second thought. “It’s all an illusion.”

“That’s not true.”

Her eyes widen as much as her injuries allow.

“What?”

“You just don’t seem to be the type to love.”

“I’m capable of love.” Her eyebrow rises. “I love my sister.”

The right corner of her lip tips up. It’s not a full smile, but I’ll take what I can get in the situation.

“What’s going to happen to your sister’s guy?” she asks after a long silence.

“Other than pissing blood for a couple of days and nursing some fractured ribs?”

An urge to bite her throat hits me when she swallows roughly.