Page 30 of Unlocking Ruin

Pressure builds behind my eyes. I squeeze them shut again.

“Keep them open. You’ll adjust faster,” he mumbles. He grabs the bottle of water, snaps off the lid, and passes me the two pills as he kneels in front of me.

His position makes him feel a hair less scary, more like the knight he claims to be.

I shake my head.

He just shrugs, sets the pills aside, and presses the bottle’s rim to my lips. “You’re dehydrated. Drink.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Yours. You hacked, remember?”

I grab the bottle. “You’re not going to kill me?” I ask.

He remains kneeling in front of me. “We already established this.”

Good. I hurl the bottle at his face, water splattering down his sharp features. My breath catches in my throat as I wait for his retaliation.

“I should’ve known better since you’ve done that once before,” he mutters, with a hint of annoyance.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, then locks eyes with me. One second he’s silently fuming, the next his lips are on mine.

I feel the water I threw on his face soak my own lips as he presses his mouth over mine. I expect to feel his tongue next, but instead he pulls away, leaving droplets staining my face.

“You will drink one way or another. From the bottle, or if I have to pry your lips open with mine.” He looks at my curled fist. “Go ahead, hit me. I deserve it.”

I lick my lips, tasting a faint hint of him.

“Why do I get the feeling that would turn you on?” I snap, deciding to cross my arms and smirk arrogantly at him.

“Only you, Rylan,” he mutters, as he stands and wipes the rest of the water off his face.

“Hero my ass,” I mumble.

“Cooperate, and I’ll show you all my colors.”

“Release me, and I’ll forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t forgive that easily,” he grunts, sinking into the chair across from me.

Now that I’m upright, I really see him: devilishly handsome, broad-shouldered, all muscle and haunted, watchful eyes. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black: tactical pants and combat boots, but I spot no weapons.

My gaze drops to his scarred knuckles.

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, flushing it red.

“Rylan,” he says, uttering my name as if he’s shocked I’m here.

He presses his elbows into his thighs and leans forward. “The sooner you realize you’re stuck with me, the more comfortable you’ll be.”

“I don’t want comfort. I want freedom.”

“And I want vengeance,” he snaps. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he glances away, as if he’s annoyed with himself.

I follow his stare down the long navy-blue carpet to the back of the plane.

There are three doors, and my heart can’t handle what may be behind them. I’ve heard coffins are bigger than airplane restrooms. I’d rather clench my legs and risk a bladder infection than piss on a plane.