Ruin Box Set (31 page)

Caliber shook his head at the body. “Well done. Now we need to bury him.”

Isadore tensed in his arms and Ruin whispered, “I can cremate him for you.”

“Cremate?” Her brows furrowed as she stared up at him, her gaze cloudy blue and confused.

“I can do it,” Ruin said, feeling again like the words should be spoken against her lips. “You can have his ashes.”

“Where is he?” she asked him. “His soul, I mean?”

Ruin shook his head, not caring about the eyes on him. “I don’t know this time.”

She looked around then at Mr. Thibodeaux. “I have something,” she whispered. “I’ll get it.”

“I’ll help.” He was suddenly aware of how stupid that was. What would he help with? It didn’t matter. He followed her upstairs regardless, and stood in the center of the room, watching her dig in the closet.

She turned with a small tin can and the sight of the pathetic container and the way she petted it like rare treasure, stirred something in him. “What is that?” he asked, moving close enough to touch her, only he didn’t. Something in him was making him wait.

“My…dad gave me this for my tenth birthday.” She stared down at it in her hands and the can began to tremble.

Ruin covered her hands with his and squeezed. At connecting to her turmoil, he realized it was from the trauma. The trauma behind her wall. “Isadore?”

“I’m fine,” she said, still looking down, still trembling. “I got it.” The last words were a hoarse whisper, frail and on the verge of losing control.

Ruin stared at the can, a sudden rage taking him. He snatched it and threw it across the room, making Isadore jump. She snapped a confused gaze at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ruin whispered, fighting the need to take the room apart and set fire to all her memories bloodied with the sins of her father! “I’m not the enemy here.”

She swallowed and held his gaze.

“That…” Ruin pointed in the direction of the can, “is your enemy. Your pain. Your rage. Your denial.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes.

“Yes, Isadore, yes. Yes it is. That’s the enemy, the one you need to hate.”

She shook her head more. “Hating is wrong, hating isn’t the answer.”

“Hating,” he whispered carefully, “is right, Angel.”

More head shaking, stronger. “Hating isn’t right. Loving is right. Forgiveness. Mercy.”

“Hating the wrong is right, forgiving sin where there has been no justification—is wrong! Loving what should not be loved—is wrong! Having mercy where judgement is called for—is wrong!”

She stormed to the can and dropped to all fours, collecting whatever items had been in it. Ruin was torn in two to see her that way. So pathetic and broken and confused.

He went to her and knelt to help and she slapped him away, continuing to pick up what appeared to be random nothings. Rocks, barrettes, bottle caps, fish hooks, marbles… He picked up one of the hooks and she snatched it out of his hand, ripping the skin on his palm open. She gasped at seeing the flow of blood and put a trembling hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m a mess, I’m a fucking mess. I’m so sorry, I’m so confused.”

Ruin pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “Shhh, Angel. I’m here for you.”

She struggled out of his embrace and pushed him away, then hit him in the chest. Once, then again. “Don’t touch me,” she gasped, wiping along her arms like his hands were something dirty. “Don’t you dare touch me. My daddy gave me these things because he loved me.” She jabbed her finger in his face now. “He. Loved. Me!”

“Okay, Angel.”

“He loved me!” She shoved him backwards with the scream and began beating on his chest again. “You son-of-a-bitch!” she gasped. “He loved me! How dare you!” she screamed again. “You fucking cruel bastard! Why would you try to take that from me?”

Ruin didn’t block the barrage of her fists, filled with so much pain and agony, he took it, absorbed it into him, sucking it from her.

“Why would you do that?! You’re just jealous! You’re jealous of that love, just like you’re jealous of anybody that loves me. You’re jealous of my father, of my boyfriends,” she screamed at him before pointing down, “You’re even jealous of Scriber! You’re jealous of everybody that is nice to me!”

Ruin realized everything she said was true. “I am.”

She shook her head, tears pouring from her eyes. “I need those things,” she whispered.

Ruin lowered his head, wanting to say what he thought and felt but no longer trusting they were right. They were certainly true, but he was far from certain if they were right. He didn’t want her to have those things. Not from others.

Pain stabbed Ruin’s side and he gasped, looking down at the homework given him. Time was up. Hardening his resolve, Ruin got the can and lid from the floor and hurried down-stairs. “Isadore,” he called, wanting her there for it.

“I’m… changing,” she called from upstairs. “Do what you have to.”

Ruin held his jaw shut, hating himself for always managing to ruin things with her. Maybe that was his purpose, after all it was his name.

“You’re out of time, son.” Caliber’s gruff tone was softer than usual and Ruin glanced at Scriber who seemed preoccupied with something in his hand.

Ruin took a breath and located the fire inside him, then closed his eyes, slowing his breath as he gave it the directive.

“Wait!” Isadore came running down the stairs. “I’m ready, wait, I want to be there.”

Chapter Five

Ruin waited as Isadore came to stand next to him. He was suddenly sure she was too close. “You… need to stand back.”

“What? Why? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean those things—”

“No, Angel. I mean you could get burned.”

The common sense hit her along with shame as she backed up a little. “Right. Backing up. Here fine? Or should I go in the kitchen?”

“I wouldn’t allow her to get burned.”

Ruin and Isadore turned at hearing the first audible speech from Scriber. The silky flow in the words was like an auditory slap in comparison to his dark essence. On top of that was the need to use his fire on the being in that second for just suggesting he’d protect her. Yet another urge that went against his judging instincts he realized. Was he faulty? Still tainted? No doubt.

“Thank you,” Isadore said.

Ruin didn’t miss the satisfaction in her tone. So she was angry with him. Again.

The weight of that notion was more grievous than the job before him and helped to call the fire forth in seconds. At feeling himself loaded and ready, Ruin muttered the word, “Katharísei,” releasing it.

The shot of light streaked from the air above and consumed the flesh, leaving… oh shit. Nothing.

“Tad too much padre,” Caliber muttered.

“Is it done?”

“He’s done alright,” Caliber raised his brows. “And I’ll be back later to check your homework.”

Caliber vanished and Isadore came to stand next to him, staring down at the spotless, ash-less floor. “Where…” She looked at him, perplexed.

Ruin slid his hand over his head, feeling like an idiot. “I used too much power. I’m sorry.”

She looked back at the floor. “You…burned his ashes too?” she gasped, realizing what he meant.

He may as well have burned the very last hope in all the world by her tone. “I’m sorry.” He was, it was the last thing he’d ever want to do.

“You burnt his ashes?” she repeated, like one in shock.

Ruin stared down at the floor, the feeling inside him angering him. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t mean it? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Ruin snapped. “Why would you think I’d want to burn up his ashes?”

“I don’t’ know,” she gasped incredulous. “Maybe because you don’t want me to have any memories that are good.”

“Isadore, you know that’s not true,” he said.

Scriber walked over to where Mr. Thibodeaux had laid and waved a hand. Smokey air emitted from his fingertip and slowly settled on the floor, outlining where his form had been. Scriber swirled his fingers and the black mist flowed through the air to the can clutched to Isadore’s chest, and entered it. She looked down at it then up him.

“His residual essence.”

The soft words sounded more like a caress and Ruin fought with the conflicting feelings inside him. What Scriber had done was right but felt very wrong. And Isadore’s smiling “thank you” added to the negative equation. His residual essence. The being’s words repeated in his mind in the same silky manner he’d spoken them. The idea he’d been mentally in her mind before that, rubbing her with his oh so smooth words, burned him. Burned him to the point of bad judgement. This wasn’t normal for him and he was sure the answer was staring at him and he just wasn’t seeing it.

The block.

Yes. Yes, that. He needed to do that homework. Soon. But first… “Can I talk to you Isadore? About my homework assignment?”

She snapped her gaze to him, appearing guarded. “Sure.”

At seeing she would talk right there, he said, “Upstairs, please.”

“I’ll be back.” Scriber said softly, turning for the door.

“Where are you going?” Isadore asked as the door shut. “Where’s he going?” she asked Ruin now.

Ruin managed a shrug, too angry to speak. Why did she care where he went? Why did he care that she cared? “Something is wrong with my powers.” With him, actually, but he was sure it was connected to his powers.

“What? Like what?”

He put a hand on his hip and glanced around for the exact words. “I’m having…strange thoughts.”

“How so? About what?”

“Not about what.”

Silence stretched and he met her worried gaze. “Who then?”

“Who do you think?”

“Scriber?”

“Partly.”

“Caliber?”

“No, Isadore.”

“Me?” she said, sounding doubtful.

“Yes. You.”

“And…Scriber.”

“Don’t’ say it that way.”

“What? What way?”

“Consecutively.”

“Consecutively?” She didn’t get it of course.

“I don’t like him.” He paced now, hating the feelings that had control of him.

“Why, you have no reason not to like him.”

“Exactly!” He stopped and faced her fully, arms out. “And yet, I do. I dislike him.”

“What exactly do you dislike about him? And why are you pacing so much, what is wrong with you, you’re making me need to mop.”

“I told you, something is wrong with my powers. That’s serious. I’m hating somebody who I shouldn’t.”

“Hating? That’s a strong word. You first said dislike.”

“I do dislike him. To that last degree I just mentioned.”

“Wow. But he’s only ever helped us. And he’s been kind and—“

“Stop!” He grabbed his head. “I get it, you don’t need to verbalize it.”

After a long silence she whispered, “I see.”

Ruin looked at her to see if what she saw was decipherable in her expression. What he found was a little smirk on her lips. He could hardly believe it. “You find this amusing?”

“Actually, yes. I do. Very.”

“Well thank you for the help, I really appreciate that.”

“And thank you for disintegrating Mr. Thibodeaux’s ashes.”

He pointed at her. “I said I was sorry, you know I don’t lie.”

She stared at him, smirk still on her lips, in her eyes even. “I think…” Isadore walked toward him then stopped exactly before, holding his gaze. “I think Scriber is… very sweet and…kinda cute actually.”

Blind fury hit him so hard, he growled and bared his teeth at her, like the stupid big bad wolf ready to tear the house down with his bare hands.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, covering her mouth. “You’re…jealous.”

The sparkle in her eyes affected him in a very negative way. “You like him!” he gritted.

To his utter disbelief, Isadore gave a light giggle and ran up the stairs leaving Ruin to boil in his fury. How could she do this? How dare she laugh at him while he was… in this… broken condition? He finally stormed upstairs to force the confession he couldn’t bear to hear, masochism at its finest. 

She wasn’t there. He hurried to the window and heard something in the closet. What the hell was she doing? Had she lost her mind finally?

“Don’t come in here,” she said, her voice muffled.

Ruin stormed over and threw open the door. His breath rushed out of him at finding her naked. He couldn’t speak as his eyes burned over her, wanting to know why she was doing that, not wanting to know, yet needing to know, but even more needing to smell and taste her.

“Isadore.” Her name blasted out, hoarse with need.

“Take off your clothes.” The order was whispered but firm.

Ruin obeyed without thought or hesitation until he stood entirely naked before her. She slowly walked out of the closet, her eyes locked to his before slowly lowering over him. When her gaze reached his cock, she drew her brows together and bit her lower lip with a little moan of…hunger. Her hand shot out toward him when he made a move for her. “You will do as I say. When I say. How I say. Is it clear?” she looked up at him and Ruin was suddenly captured by the heat in her eyes and tone.

He managed a nod. He would do as she said. Perfectly.

“Good,” she whispered, going to the bed and pointing at it. “I want you here. On your back.”

He wasted no time and eyed her breasts with hunger as he laid as she said.

“Hold on to the head board and draw your knees up.”

Ruin’s heart hammered in his chest as he did as told. What exactly did she have in mind? The confident command in her tone wasn’t entirely foreign, but connected to these instructions, yes. Yes, it was. Very much. And he liked it. Exceedingly. The world could fucking go to hell, assignments be damned, this, right here. That’s all that mattered.

“Very good,” she said, climbing on the foot of the bed. “I see you’re excited.” She straddled his hips and leaned forward, hands gripping his chest as she sat right on him, pressing his cock against his abs then sliding her hot silk along his length. Ruin let go of a hard groan, the head board creaking loudly from his grip, his gaze locked on her nipples, silently waiting, begging her to fill his mouth with one.

“You like my tits?” she gasped, continuing to stroke herself along his cock.

“Fuck, yes.” He looked down, watching what she looked like on him. “I smell you,” he strained, “I need to smell you. Taste you.”

“Mmmm.” She lowered her mouth to his but remained just out of reach, working herself on the head of his cock, making him dizzy. “You want to taste me?”

“Yes, I do. Sit on my mouth and grind yourself on me until you’re pulling my hair.” It was the closest thing to a sincere beg he could manage. 

“Sit on your mouth? That’s….very intimate, isn’t it?”

“Yes, very.” He reached for her lips with his.

“Not something you would just do with anybody,” she said, staying out of reach, only attempting to kiss him but never connecting. Teasing.

“Only with me.” He reached again and nipped her lips with his.

“And what about you?” she whispered, giving more of her lips for him to taste.

“What about me?”

“Are you only for me?”

“Yes, only you. Always.”

She gasped and kissed him fully, making him groan with hunger. “I want to touch you.”

“Soon. First…” She whimpered and twirled her hips over the swollen head of his cock.

“First what? You’re driving me crazy, Angel.”

She moaned and raked her nails along the insides of his arms. “First I want to watch you orgasm.”

He gasped, watching her lips kiss a hungry path down, nails raking his sides now. She licked along the center of his abs. “Angel, fuck, do it” he whispered. 

“I love when you say fuck,” she licked at his navel, and Ruin opened his legs for her. “Love when you want me like this.” She forced his legs to the bed and raked her nails along his inner thighs before gliding them over his balls, locking gazes with him.

“Do it,” he whispered, gripping the headboard and thrusting his cock toward her. “Suck my cock Angel. Deep. Suck it until I feel the back of your throat. Now.” He bared his teeth with a long hiss as she flicked the ridge of his cock with her tongue, giving delicate moans, giving herself entirely to her torment. “Tell me you want this,” he gasped, thrusting.

“I want this,” she whispered back, kissing along the length then sucking the head into her mouth. “I want this.”

“What else, what else Isadore.”

“I want you,” she gasped, sucking him all the way in.

Ruin let go of the head board and grabbed hold of her head, giving several rapid pumps and groans, his heart hammering with the heat filling his body. “You want me, Isadore? Say it, say you want me.”

She let him pop from her lips and locked her eyes on his. “I want you, Ruin. I need you.”

Ruin sat up and pulled her by the shoulders, claiming her lips in a passionate kiss, putting her beneath him. “I want you too, I need you too, just you, only you. Do you understand?”

She deepened the kiss, her legs wrapping his waist, nails digging into his shoulders. “Because you love me,” she gasped. “You do. Say it, say you love me.”

Ruin stroked his hand over her body, fighting the feeling inside him, the one that rebelled against that word, that incorrigibly elusive word. “I…”

“Love me, say it. I know you do.”

“I do?”

She paused briefly then jerked her head right with a huff, putting her hand over her mouth. Ruin kissed the palm and she fisted her fingers. “Why won’t you say it?”

Ruin stared down at her, thinking about that answer. “Because…I can’t lie.”

She shoved at him until he rolled off of her. “Can’t lie? Really?” She scooted out of the bed and stormed to her dresser.

He went to her, stopping a few feet away as she threw clothes out of her drawer. “I can’t say what I don’t know to be true.”

She spun to him. “How can you not know that?” She punched him in the chest then shoved him. “How can you not know that?”

He shook his head, hating for the first time that he couldn’t lie. Because he would. Right then. To remove the look of hurt from her face, to fill the desperate need in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Angel.”

Her eyes slowly became slits of revenge, her jaw cocked, head nodding. “Kay. Fine.” Ruin stared at her body with longing and she gave an incredulous laugh. “Don’t even think you’re getting close to me. Ever. Again. Not until you know you love me.”