Page 45 of Fated In Ruin
“I don’t hate flowers. Now answer the question. Why?”
“Evie, you don’t want to do this.” Sorrow glimmered in his face, a sadness that seemed as ancient as he was. “Regret is something you don’t handle well, and this is a road…let me put you to sleep, we’ll talk again in a few hours, when your head is clear.”
“The roses are from your garden. You grew them yourself, didn’t you? Youpicked them yourself?”
He looked away, jaw clenching, but he nodded. “Yes. They once…were beloved by someone I was very close to. I still keep them here…in her memory.”
Oh.Oh. Some of my libido cooled.
“So why give them to me?” I sank deeper into the pillows, wishing I hadn’t asked, but now I needed to know the answer. “They are beautiful. Unusual. And the smell…” I glanced at the overflowing vase on my nightstand, the spicy scent filling the room, “I’ve grown to enjoy it.”
“Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you alone in that room, cooped up like a prisoner.” His voice thrummed with repressed anger; every line of his body taut. “Nobody shouldeverkeep you trapped, Vicious. You’re meant to lead the battle charge, not be trapped within a gilded cage. Even under the guise of protection.”
“And…after? There werealwaysflowers.”
“Because I wanted you to see something beautiful when you woke, especially when things were so grim.”
“You made them grim,” I reminded him, my voice softer than I intended, a raw hint of vulnerability slipping through.
“They would have been grim anyway. Collum was aligned with your sire long before Tyrell died—who do you think convinced him to return to the clan? Valaine became a threat the moment he laid eyes on you. I spent more time than you know trying…” He looked away, cleared his throat.
“I just wanted to make things a little better,” he murmured, turning toward the door.
“Why the kiss?” I asked, just as softly. “You could have demanded anything from me that night in exchange for Eldric’s life. A kiss seemed…insignificant.”
Insignificant. That’s what I’d told Blake. What I’d tried so hard to convince myself that moment was, but I hadn’t stopped thinking about the way he’d come apart afterwards, like I’d unraveled him down to his core. Nobody—not Riordan, not even Blake—had ever looked at me like that.
Like I was the foundation of their entire world.
I still couldn’t see his face and he shrugged his wide shoulders, taking another step away. “A token, nothing that meant anything. You got what you wanted and the scribe lived to read another day.”
My fingers twisted into the sheets.
I could let him walk through that door and this moment would be over.
We’d go to Sleepy Hollow tomorrow and face Ravok, then I’d go back to Crimson House and my life would settle into some sort of routine—if vampires had routines—and Malachi would keep his word and leave these shores for good.
We would never see each other again, just like I’d hoped.
That would have been the safe choice. The choice Old-Evie would have made, because she didn’t have time for romantic entanglements andfeelings.
“Then kiss me again,” I challenged, tipping up my chin. “If it meant nothing, then another kiss wouldn’t matter at all, right?” Those wide shoulders tensed into a rigid line, his hands slowly clenching into fists.
The air in the room tightened dangerously, tension thrumming between us like a live wire. “Unless you’re scared itdidmean something, and that’s why you can’t even turn around and face me, because…”
Everything disappeared and Malachi was all I saw, rising above me, pressing me deep into the pillows before his mouth crashed down on mine, not asking, not teasing, buttaking, like a male who had denied himself for far too long.
And was done waiting.
20
MALACHI
Fucking hell, Vicious tasted like absolute heaven.
A desperate, almost animal noise crawled up my throat as I plundered her mouth, tasting the lips I’d been dreaming about for weeks, her body grinding against me, the friction between us unbearable.
I drove my tongue between her lips again, tracing her teeth, exploring every nook and cranny before pressing the tip to one of her sharp fangs, the prick of pain followed by a flood of blood, filling her mouth with more of my essence.
