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15
Ruin
I tried to sleep, I did. But between the weird conversation with Joker, my suspicions about why Devil’s Nightmare MC really sent us on this job and the rising stench in my room made it impossible. Someone must’ve died in that room, I swear. Or several someones. And they probably lay in there for days before anyone missed them. Once I started thinking about the possibility of that and how few people would notice if it happened to me, I couldn’t stay in there a moment later.
I probably should’ve checked with Edge before leaving. But he’d tell me to stay, and I didn’t want to hear that. I wanted to see Ariel. To watch her eyes fill with lighting and fire as she fired guns and let herself just be.
Lucky for me she was thinking the same thing.
I took her back to the compound in the woods. No one will look for us here. Hunter, Chance, Edge, and me, and sometimes some of the others, used to spend a lot of time here when we were younger and wanted to shoot guns and not have anyone find us. But that was a long time ago. I doubt any of them even remember this place exists.
“So, you’re letting me keep this gun, right?” Ariel asks, looking around while I load the .380 I’m having her use today. The Desert Eagle was too much gun for her. I sometimes find that thing too heavy, especially after a long day.
I laugh and hand her the loaded gun. “All yours. You’ll have no trouble fitting it in that huge purse of yours.”
I like talking to her, but I like touching her too. And I only get to do that when I’m helping her aim. It’s why we’ve been here for less than an hour or so and already burned through half my supply of ammo. My ears are ringing, all the shooting’s probably done us both permanent hearing damage, but I want more.
She doesn’t need my help aiming so much anymore. But I do it anyway. Her skin is warm and silky smooth under my fingers and soft like spring grass.
She squeezes the trigger before I even help her aim, while I’m still stuck on trying to find the perfect thoughts to describe the perfection of touching her. One of the bottles explodes with the bang.
“Whoa! That was pretty! Just like star dust,” she exclaims and twists in my arms to look at me. “Did you see?”
What I see are her perfect lips mere inches away from mine. And I can’t think of a single reason not to kiss her. There are plenty of reasons. I know that. But I can’t think of a single one right now.
So I lean in and touch my lips to hers. Perfection is not a strong enough word to describe the jolt of that passes through me. It feels like my whole body just hit a cement floor hard, but in a good way.
For a few glorious seconds she kisses me back. But then she pushes me away, looking hurt and shocked and sad and maybe a little angry all at the same time. But also like she’s thinking hard.
I’m enjoying the feel of her palm against my chest and don’t want to think beyond that. Nothing good is coming, I know that much.
“No,” she finally says. “I’m not ready.”
Then instead of pushing me all the way away, she stays cradled in my arms as she turns and raises the gun again. The sound of her next gunshot is deafeningly loud, yet I hardly hear it.
She didn’t push me away.
It’s a win. Not a big one, but a win is a win. I’ll take it.
16
Ariel
His kiss was amazing. Even before it came, my whole body was quivering from the closeness, from his touch, from the warmth of his body and his arms around me. And especially from the sheer elation of firing the gun. From hitting the target. From having the means to defend myself in my control and under my command. His kiss was better than all that combined.
But it was too soon. I’m not ready.
This is nice.
All those bad memories of kisses I didn’t want won’t be. And I was sure they’d come if we continued. So I said no.
I kind of regret it now, as we’re sitting side by side on one of the benches by the run-down shacks. The sun is barely making it through the canopy above us, but a ray is warming my arm. It’s not nicer than Ruin’s arms around me.
He’s sitting beside me, engrossed in cleaning his guns, which is what he’s been doing for the past twenty minutes or so. I let him do it, content to just watch him.
He’s like a cat cleaning its claws. Meticulous and thorough. A killer making sure his tools are always ready. Truly, I feel safe with him. Just like he promised I would be.
But I can’t tell how hard my rejection hit him. It didn’t seem like it was too bad, but what if I ruined all my chances with him? It’s an incredibly scary thought.
