Page 44 of Unlocking Ruin

He bends down and kisses the blade against my neck. I can feel the gentle warmth of his breath on me.

“You want me to open the door so you can escape? Fine,” he concedes, taking my hand with the knife. He guides me slowly through the mansion to a door so big you could drive a car through it. He pushes a button, and it slowly swings open. A cold wind brushes over my sweaty brow.

“Run.” Steel-blue eyes loom over me, taunting and daring me to accept.

I stare at him, the knife shaking in my grip.

“Go on. Run, Rylan. Save yourself. I know you can, because you always have. But I want you to know this time, you don’t have to. You can make allies. Trust me, you’ll need many to survive our new world.”

“It’s a trick.”

“Halloween is over, Little Thief,” he purrs, smirking wickedly.

“I’m not a thief.”

“You’re a hacker.”

“I returned the money.”

“You still stole it in the first place. Go on, my Little Thief. Run for me.” His chin tips up; sunlight floods his face. His beauty makes me stumble back.

“Run!”

I take another step, bare feet meeting the chilly stone of his front steps. My ankle pings with pain, so I try to shift most of my weight to the other side.

“Run away from the answers.”

“Shut up!” I grunt, swinging my knife in the air. Turning, I begin to walk away from him. I keep glancing over my shoulder, but he remains in the doorway.

“Asshole,” I mutter, trudging down his winding driveway. The path meanders, and after what seems like five minutes, I mutter, “How large is this place?” Lifting my ankle, I try to roll it to relieve the pain, but there is no way I’m getting much farther.

Should I sit and slide? Try to roll? I study the sloping ground and question the best way forward.

A second glance over my shoulder causes me to stop. “What are you doing?” I shout.

Steffen followed me. He is moving with deliberate slowness. “I never said I wouldn’t chase you, Rylan.”

Fear jolts through me—mixed with something new: desire.

I veer off the driveway, trying to run; if not for my ankle, being good at track before would come in really handy right now. I limp and speed-walk through the trees, but the terrain abruptly gives way to a sharp incline.

I’m stuck.

The sound of rocks crunching behind me signals his approach. I spin around and stare daggers at him, but he continues his walk, that infuriating smirk still in place.

“You’re not chasing,” I bark.

He stops. “When you can run, I will hunt,” he rebuts. “Is that what you want?” He begins to walk faster. “Me to run after you, chase you? Oh,” he chides darkly, “it is. You want to be chased because you have been left behind. You want me to put in the effort so you know my desire for you is real.”

The sting of his words is worse than the knife I grip. Lifting it, I try to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” he says, coming face to face with my shaking knife. “I am sorry you had such shitty parents, and your natural defense is to push others away so you won’t get hurt. I don’t want to hurt you.” Reaching up, he takes the knife out of my hand and tosses it onto the ground.

My lips tremble; tears streak down my cheeks. “What do you want?” I whisper, tasting salt on my lips.

“You.” His hands wrap around my back, our hips colliding as he drags me into him. He bends down, his lips brushing against mine.

“Tell me,” he says in a deep lust-filled voice that sounds like a plea. The color of his eyes has deepened to resemble a dark horizon.