Page 27 of Vows of Ruin

“You mean they can’t leave. You really think I’ll ever be part of that? You think you’ll twist my hand and I’ll fold. Fuck. You.”

The woman rolls her eyes, then condescendingly says. “Princess, you should stay quiet and accept the deal.”

That nickname again, it hits like a slap. Princess. The name my father called me, before I shattered everything he built. Before I burned the legacy the tried to force on me. My vision goes sharp. The red comes fast. I move without hesitation.

The dagger leaves my hand with deadly precision and buries itself in the woman’s throat before she even realizes what’s happening. Her eyes go wide. She topples over backward, chair crashing to the floor beneath her.

Torque and Wrecker already have weapons drawn. I say nothing. I don’t need to. The man with Sebastian looks as if he might pass out. I wouldn’t mind if he did. But Sebastian? He just looks down at the growing pool of blood. Then back up at me, with a maddening calm.

“I suppose that was your answer,” he murmurs.

I clench my jaw so tight my teeth hurt. He smiles faintly and rises from his seat. “I will walk out of here alive. I showed you how I made sure of that. I know your love for our former nanny, sister.”

Sister.

He lets the word hang like rot in the air. Torque and Wrecker flank him instantly, guns raised, but he doesn’t flinch. As he nears the club doors, he glances back once more. His voice is low, soft, and almost loving.

“Your soul is blacker than I thought, baby sister. I’ll see you soon.”

The door clicks shut behind him, but I’m still staring, chest heaving. The scent of blood lingers thick in the air. My dagger is where I left it, gleaming in the neck of the woman I silenced. I should feel something like guilt. Regret. Horror. But I don’t. I feel alive, wired. Lit from within by something hot and vicious and aching for more.

I glance toward Wrecker and Torque. “Get Elias and Riot to Julie’s house. Now. I want eyes on her and I want a call the second they see her.”

Liam’s eyes find mine across the room, burning like they always do when I come undone in front of him, but this time it’s different. This time, I see the edge in him flare to life, the part of him he doesn’t show the others.

“Little warrior?” he murmurs. A question, a promise, a warning. I don’t answer. I move.

My mouth crashes into his like I’ve been waiting years to do it again. His hands grip my thighs hard enough to bruise as I jump, legs locking around his waist, his back slamming into the wall behind us.

The room stirs. Someone wolf whistles. Torque calls out, “Clear out.”

Boots shuffle. The door clicks again. We’re alone. Finally.

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t ask. His mouth takes mine again, deeper this time, rougher, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of me from the inside out.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he growls, voice raw.

“I think I do,” I whisper, tugging his shirt over his head.

He peels mine off just as fast, his fingers already skimming my ribs, my spine, the curve of my hips worshipping every detail of my body.

“You want this?” he breathes.

“I want you.” My voice is fire and desperation.

His hands tighten, and then he’s backing me towards the table I just threatened my brother from, where the world tilted sideways. He lifts me onto it without breaking the kiss. The wood is cool under my skin, but Liam is all heat, his mouth trailing down my neck, my collarbone, biting softly at the sensitive place where my shoulder meets my throat.

I arch into him. I need him. Every touch is rough, reverent, starving. He’s trying to erase everything that came before him and brand himself into my bones.

He drags my pants down and my legs wrap tighter around him. His hands push my knees apart, his breath catching as he looks down at me like he’s seeing something sacred.

“You’re mine,” he says, dark and certain.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m yours.”

He leans in again, biting my lower lip just enough to make me gasp. “Then say it louder.”

“I’m yours,” I repeat, louder now. Breathless. Wrecked. “Yours.”