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A whole new set of problems would arise when—if—I finally shifted. Feeling the powerful, intoxicating darkness pulsating from the Infernal Sol was bad enough. What would happen if the shifter inside of me started to make an appearance?
Would the two supernatural sides fight for dominance against my human side? Or would they blend together to form some horrible, hybrid beast?
Ruin’s finger slid over my tattoo, and a sharp sting crackled. He yanked his hand back, cursing. “Fane sure likes to claim things,” he muttered.
“Excuse me? Fane Maverick didn’t claim any part of me. I am no one’s possession.” The demon lord thought he owned me, or at least the amulet inside of me, but I’d escape when presented with the chance no matter how charming he was.
His mouth curved into a slanted smile. “I just meant that his presence doesn’t seem to leave you even when he isn’t here.” He motioned toward the tattoo that shocked him.
He didn’t know the half of it.
“Which is my reason for making that deal with you.” I crossed my arms to put more of a barrier between us since the demon lord was so comfortable touching me. “Any progress with that?”
He reached into the pocket of his black slacks and pulled out a small silver tin. “This is called Draught of Serenity. Spread this on the tattoo, and it should scramble the link. Temporarily of course.” He grabbed my hand and placed it in the center. “You should probably do the honors. Unless you want me to. I’d endure the pain for the chance to touch you more.”
I pulled my hand from his to examine the container. “I can get it.”
Ruin shrugged and leaned back into the tufted cushions of the couch. “Just let me know if you’d like some help.”
This guy was relentless. He was worse than Roxie.
A bitter taste coated my tongue thinking of my former friend. Was she still throwing herself at Hawk, or had he grown bored of her? I hoped he’d tossed her aside for someone new already.
I shook the thoughts of them off before they could crack the layer of steel around my heart, and I opened the tin. A flowery scent drifted from the thick, rosy cream. “How long will it last?”
“Not sure. It’s a trial-and-error thing.” He grabbed his drink and sipped the amber liquid. “It may not work at all.”
I dug my finger into it and then spread a glob over the tattoo. “Let’s hope it works.” A burning sensation crawled over the mark like I’d stuck a match to it.
Son of a bitch.
“You could have warned me it would hurt,” I gritted out.
Ruin arched his eyebrow, the golden lighting catching on his piercing. “I didn’t think it would.” He leaned into my space again, his finger reaching toward my tattoo.
My hand snapped up—with unusually fast reflexes—and I gripped his wrist. “Let’s not do that.”
“Sure thing.” Ruin backed off as he scrutinized me.
I shifted in the seat and grabbed my drink, averting my gaze to the glass. A pit of dread opened in my gut, and my dinner threatened to reappear. What in the hell was that? I’d never moved that fast.
“Want to have some fun, Tatum Teague?” He leaned over, opened a drawer in the table on his side of the couch, and pulled out a silver vial. “We could do a little Rapture to relax.”
Fire hemorrhaged through my veins, and my hand tightened around the crystal tumbler, threatening to crack it. “If you invited me in here to get wasted off that shit and fall into your bed, you made a monumental mistake. I don’t give a damn what you’re the lord of.” He’d made it a point to mention his bedroom was just behind the door on the left.
“Whoa, don’t go all first-generation raven on me.” Ruin chuckled. “They started out trying to kill us all in Chicago.”
Memories of what happened in his very club bombarded my mind. I could still feel Vox grinding against me and Danica groping me. “I’m beginning to channel their rage right now.”
“I wasn’t suggesting anything like that, Tate, I promise.” He slowly plucked the glass out of my hand before I shattered it. “Mixing one or two drops into a drink has a calming effect. I thought it might help after your rough day in the lab. That’s all.” He set my glass on the coffee table, tossed the Rapture back in the drawer, and closed it.
“I don’t have fond memories of Rapture.” Not only did the guy I like decide to screw my supposed friend when they ingested that crap, but demons forced it on me.
The humor faded from Ruin, and he pushed his dark hair out of his face. “I’m sorry for what happened to you at my club. If you and Fane hadn’t ended those involved, I would have.”
I leaned back on the cushions, absentmindedly studying the large marble columns across the room, the gold trim at the top glittering in the soft light. “Does that kind of shit happen at your club a lot? Vox and those guys tried to drag me into the basement.”
“Absolutely not.” Frost coiled over his words. “And that room has been locked. I never condone doing anything like that against someone’s will in my place of business or anywhere.”
