Ruckus (Sinners of Saint 2)

“How noble of you.” His chest bumped against mine, and we were going to war, now I knew. “Poor fucking Ruckus.” Vicious brought his fists to his eyes and pretended to wipe invisible tears. “Had a bad time with Emilia all those months?”

“Nah,” I said, pushing him away. He pushed me back. I grinned. “She was great, but then, you’d never know, right?” He swallowed hard.

“Maybe she ran off because you’re shit in bed,” he said. Real mature.

“Or maybe she ran off because she was tired of you,” I retorted. His face twisted in pain, and he was guilty. Of what, I didn’t know, but he was not innocent. That much was for sure. I decided to poke the subject. Get his angle on things.

“How does it feel, Vicious? To be the loser who would never know what the girl of his dream tastes like?”

“You would know, Cole. We’re in the same boat, and this ship is sinking.” Now it was his turn to get in my face and—again—I didn’t even blink. I wasn’t afraid of Vicious. I saw through his layers and knew exactly who he was.

A guy like me.

Who was hiding behind walls of muscle, good looks, fancy cars, perfect clothes, rich parents, and dark mystery. You can never be afraid of what you are. That was why I was the only one out of my friends to defy him repeatedly.

“You fucked up everything,” I whispered into his face, and I saw it in his ink-blue eyes that he knew I was right, because there was something whirling in them. Something that threatened to drown whoever dared to come close. “You fucked up, and now we’re all fucked.” I pushed him, turning around and stalking to Rosie’s door.

By the time she opened the door, Vicious was gone. Probably up in his room, smoking a fat one.

Rosie didn’t look surprised to see me. But she did gasp when I cupped both her cheeks, stepped into her house, and kissed the shit out of her without warning.

The kiss wasn’t just rough; it was downright brutal. It lacked affection in the same way it leaked desperation.

I was helpless.

Careless.

Ruined.

And not by the sister I was expected to love.

She gasped for air. I gasped for her. Our tongues swirled together, engaged, enamored, under a spell of black magic.

I held her by the back of her neck. Maybe too hard. How did I not know my body could respond to another person like this? Every nerve ending in my body was on fire. Her knees failed. She collapsed, but held onto my shirt at the very last minute, somehow holding herself together physically. Mentally, though…we were both in too deep.

Mentally, we were fucked.

It hadn’t even registered to me that she returned the kiss for a long, intoxicating minute before she pulled away, her eyes widening in shock and fear. She laced her fingers through the sides of her head and pulled at her roots, her beautiful, puffy lips falling open.

“Oh, my God.” She sucked in a breath. I felt her in that kiss, and the things she’d given me…she could never take them back. They were mine, and I was going to take the rest of her, even if it wasn’t that day. Even if it would take a fucking lifetime.

If she has a lifetime, asshole.

“Holy shit,” she croaked again. “What have I done? Get out!”

“Rosie…”

“Get. The. Hell. Out, Dean. Seriously, if you come here again…”

“You bet your ass I am,” I said firmly. “I’m going after you even if it takes me years to have you.”

“You won’t.” There was something in her voice, or maybe it was the way she pushed me away, that made it all very final. “I will make sure of it, one way or the other. You’re dead to me, Cole. Dead from the moment you put your hands on my sister. There won’t be a tomorrow for us. There won’t be a Bronze Horseman. And next time we see each other, Dean, we’re going to act like we don’t know one another. Because we don’t. You are nothing to me. Never were. Come here again, and I’m telling Daddy to pull out the shotgun.”

She slammed the door in my face.

And for the first time, she didn’t peek through the window to steal another moment with me.

Present

I loved watching Rosie dance.

She was so terrible at it, you couldn’t help but laugh. But she didn’t care. The girl didn’t fucking care, and that was what I loved about her the most. Her ability to sing out of tune and dance like no one was watching, when all eyes were on her as she struck a pose, a la Madonna, while jumping up and down like her feet were on fire.

She spun in place on the dance floor and found me, our eyes connecting. I was leaning against the bar, sipping bottled water, as promised, saluting the bottle in her direction.