Page 5 of Ravaged Devotion

People he hadn’t seen in years, some friends, most merely acquaintances, had spent the first couple of hours lingering, making small talk, showing an interest. When it became apparent that Rue wasn’t keen on engaging, they’d wandered off in search of better company.

Black Harts, children of the world’s elite, and those Rue had grown up with, mostly kept their distance.

Rue knew why.

He pretended he didn’t.

The group of close friends outside of this collection of affluent individuals he’d left behind weren’t in attendance. Despite his mother’s irritation, Rue had befriended kids who weren’t a usual part of their social circle, not elites, like she would have preferred. The only upper-class members Rue had kept constant companionship with as he’d grown had been the Harts.

A sick twist in his gut had him spinning on his heels, abandoning the charade. He sprinted to the back doors, entering the main house in a flurry of motion, almost knocking over a server balancing two trays of hors d'oeuvres. He mumbled an apology, but didn’t stop, tugging at the tie around his neck.

At the stairs, he got the damn thing off, tossing it over the banister, not bothering to check where it landed. His feet carried him in a panic, memories leading him through the massive building, the ghosts of the past sparing no mercy.

He just needed a space away from it all. A spot he could be alone, without fear of running into him.

Months of carrying this self-loathing, this guilt, had worn Rue down to practically nothing. He’d always been quiet, shy even, in comparison to his friends, but now…There were times at university where he could go weeks only speaking a handful of sentences to other people.

He knew what he’d done wrong. Knew better than to ask for forgiveness—especially from a person who had never learned the meaning of the word. Not once in all the years they’d known each other, not even on those lonely nights when the frustration had overcome him and he’d touched himself to thoughts of the Black Hart, had Rue ever been disillusioned.

But that also meant he understood eventual capture was inevitable, especially now that their parents had wed and made them one big fucked up family.

The smart thing to do would be to go back out there, find Ryker and confront him. Let him get his licks in.

It would be the smart thing.

But Rue was a coward.

The library where they used to study as kids didn’t seem as inviting as it once had. Memories of them racing down this corridor, chasing one another to see who could make it first, rushed through his mind as Rue planted a palm against one of the double doors and pushed.

It was like stepping into a time capsule, rows upon rows of books on either side, with a straight path leading to the back where a window seat could be seen. He moved toward it, planning on waiting at the long table that was currently hidden by the stacks, figuring he had maybe another precious minute or two to collect himself and think about what he was going to say when—

He turned the corner at the end of the rows and froze.

The library wasn’t empty.

Ryker’s hair had grown since the last time he’d seen him, the black strands wavy with a few falling over his forehead. The suit he was in was immaculate, not a wrinkle or speck of dust, navy, with a white pinstriped shirt and a crimson bowtie that was perfectly centered. He’d almost look as though he’d just stepped from a magazine spread even.

If not for the man kneeling between his spread thighs, currently sucking Ryker’s engorged cock deep enough into his mouth that he made gagging sounds.

Rue’s foot slid back, but his breath hitched, and he ended up doing the one thing he’d desperately been trying to avoid this entire day.

He caught the attention of the monster.

Ryker lifted his head, the tight, lust-filled expression that’d been on his face vanishing in a flash, replaced by a pure, undiluted hatred that actually had Rue’s entire body locking up.

Long fingers delved through the hairs at the base of the skull of whoever was giving Ryker head, that person completely oblivious that they were no longer alone. Instead of stopping him, however, Ryker used that grip to push the man harder onto himself, choking him on his dick.

The kneeling man began to struggle, clearly panicking. He slapped at Ryker’s thighs, tried to shove away, but he was no match for the Black Hart.

“Well?” Ryker’s voice cracked in the air like a whip, his vicious expression twisting when Rue flinched. “Going to stand there and watch me come?”

Rue shook his head before he’d even fully processed the question.

“Get the hell out!” With his free hand, Ryker snatched a heavy book from the table and threw it at him.

The book whacked against Rue’s arm, pain shooting up it to radiate through his neck, but it did the trick and snapped him out of it.

Rue spun on his heels and ran.