Page 38 of Ruin
Cassius curses as I shatter around him—low, rough, the control in his voice finally splintering. His forehead drops to mine, breath harsh between us. “Selene—” It’s half warning, half surrender.
He follows seconds later.
His hips drive upward, his grip at my throat tightening for one perfect, claiming beat, and he finishes inside me with a groan that isn’t contained this time—deep, feral, loud enough to prove that kings fall hard, too.
We stay like that, tangled in the chair at the head of the table, surrounded by empty glasses and burned-down candles and the ghost of a meeting that just changed everything.
His hand slides from my throat to my jaw, tilts my face down to his, and kisses me.
Slow this time. Tender. The kind of kiss that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with something neither of us is ready to name.
"They'll follow you," he says against my mouth.
"They don't have a choice."
He pulls back and studies me. The candlelight throws shadows across his face and for a moment, he looks like something ancient.
A king in a dark hall, looking at the woman who just earned her place beside him.
"No," he says. "They don't."
I climb off his lap, smooth the dress down, and check the collar in the reflection of a whiskey glass.
Every hair in place. Every seam straight. Like nothing happened. Like a queen.
Cassius watches me put myself back together with an expression I'm starting to recognize. It's the one that means he's thinking about the future, running scenarios, calculating odds.
"Natalia's on your side," he says. "That matters. She has influence."
"I know."
"Marco will come around. He respects results more than rank."
"I know that too."
"And the rest of them will fall in line once they see what you can do over the next few weeks."
I turn to face him. He's still in the chair. Belt unbuckled. Shirt untucked. Looking thoroughly ruined and completely in control at the same time.
"Is that what tonight was?" I ask. "A test?"
"Everything is a test."
"Did I pass?"
He stands, buttons his pants, straightens his shirt and walks to me and hooks a finger through the collar the way he always does, pulling me close until our foreheads nearly touch.
"You did more than pass." His voice is quiet. Just for me. "You made them believe."
I press my palm flat against his chest. Feel his heartbeat. Still fast. Still settling.
"I didn't make them believe anything," I say. "I showed them the truth."
He smiles. It's small. Real. The rarest thing in his arsenal.
"Same thing," he says.
We leave Hell together. His hand on the small of my back.
