Chapter 11
Half of her had been missing.
From the waist down, there’d just been—
Rue heaved forward and threw up the contents of his stomach. The mess splattered on the floor, seeping into the thin carpet of his room, though he hardly registered it through the thick tears blinding him and the way his chest tightened to the point of pain.
Someone held him through it, strong arms banded around his waist, holding him upright while he hacked, even when there was nothing left for him to vomit up.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her flayed body, the bloody ends—Rue sobbed even harder, not having the energy to resist or worry when he found himself swept up into those arms and carried.
The second he was set into the bathtub, he caved in on himself, pressing his face between his knees, rocking as he desperately fought against those gruesome images.
He didn’t want the last memory he had of the woman who’d raised him to be that. Even if they hadn’t been the closest. Even if she’d preferred the picture-perfect family image over him and his wants.
Rue had begged her not to go through with the marriage when he’d found out about it. Had broken down over the phone and pleaded with all that he had.
But she’d refused.
Told him to get over it.
Told him that his one-sided crush on Ryker Hart had to come to an end once and for all, because they were about to be brothers.
For years since, a part of Rue had hated her. Resented her.
And now she was dead.
Worse than dead. She’d been torn apart by—
Good Light. He didn’t even know what.
His mother was dead, and Rue didn’t have the first clue what the culprit was. Calling that thing a bear was too plain. Bears didn’t smell like rotting flesh, or ooze, or have naked skulls and empty eye sockets.
Monsters on the other hand…
Or maybe it was a demonic entity.
A ghost.
Light knew the people here had done enough evil in their lifetimes to warrant such a haunting.
Eulalie Vadim had hardly been a saint, but she hadn’t deserved that. Not her. She’d been a neglectful mother, and a vicious corporate heir who’d climbed the ladder to get to the position she was in today, but she wasn’t merciless or outwardly cruel.
Not like Darae Corvina or the Smiths.
Rue was too caught up in his head to notice when his clothes were carefully stripped off, only starting to surface when his body registered the water pouring from the faucet, slowly filling the basin, was icy.
“Breathe,” a soft voice whispered next to his ear, and Rue realized there was someone else in the tub with him. One arm around his waist, a hand massaging his nape. The other person was fully clothed, their legs up around Rue, so the larger body supported his from the sides and the back.
He lifted his head, sucking in a deep breath, and blinked past the tears. Everything was cloudy, and he couldn’t focus, giving up on trying. Cold water lapped at his skin, at mid-shin and rising, and he shivered, the almost stinging sensation cutting through more of his dark thoughts.
The image of his mother slowly began to fade as he was forced to process the physical feel of the icy water. The way it stung and made his muscles tense. His teeth began to chatter, shoulders caving inward even more, even when the hand on the back of his head moved into view to shut the tap off.
They sat like that for a long moment, Rue still crying, though not nearly as intensely, and then he found himself eased backward, until he was resting over the other person’s chest.
Blinking through tears, he caught sight of the underside of the man’s chin.
“Ryker.”
The Black Hart didn’t respond, free hand sweeping down Rue’s chest, until his fingers found the patch of curly hairs above his dick. He tugged on them lightly, hushing Rue when he let out a gasp.
“What are you doing?” Rue frowned. “Don’t.”
“Focus,” Ryker spoke softly, palm slipping lower.
“Don’t.” It shouldn’t be possible for him to get turned on in this situation, and yet Rue’s head tipped back the second those fingers wrapped around his root, tight and warm against the freezing water.
Ryker stroked him languidly, transferring the heat of his skin down Rue’s length, then back again. He worked him until Rue’s dick was solid, flushed crown curved slightly upward, his hips lifting with the motions just enough to cause the water to splash around them.
The Black Hart pulled the plug on the drain and then resituated so he could reach around Rue with his other arm as well, his left hand finding his balls. He cupped them and rolled them gently as he went back to jerking him off, his breaths coming in quick bursts against the side of Rue’s face.
He could feel Ryker’s hard-on pressed against his lower spine, as well as the outline of his zipper. The man’s wet clothing stuck to both of them in places, but he made no moves to undress, resting all of his attention on taking care of Rue.
And he was.
Taking care of him.
Distracting him.
Ensuring Rue’s mind couldn’t function long enough to conjure those horrendous images, not with the cold and the pleasure zapping his nerves in equal measure.
A whimper traveled up his throat, and Ryker’s lips pressed against his temple almost chastely.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he reassured, one hand quickening around his dick, the other squeezing and releasing his balls in measured motions that ended up driving Rue crazy.
The orgasm had him writhing and grabbing onto the edges of the tub, and he was stroked through it, until he was reduced to twitching and then lost control of his body entirely.
The second he went lax, Ryker stopped, holding him through the aftershocks, kissing the top of his head and the rise of his cheek.
At some point, Ryker collected a hand towel he must have moved nearby, running the faucet to dampen it, before using it clean the drying spunk off of Rue’s stomach and from between his thighs.
When he was finished, he tossed rag and then flicked the water on again, this time adjusting it so it was warm.
Rue turned and pressed his face against Ryker’s neck, curled against him as the bath filled and the soothing water coaxed his body into relaxing further.
“Sleep,” the Black Heart whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Gods, Rue was exhausted. It was as though all the rest he’d gotten last night never happened. His eyes slipped shut and he was certain he could pass out right then and there, but…
He grabbed a fistful of Ryker’s shirt. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.
Rue thought of the library. How Ryker had touched him, gotten him off, and then left.
Or the forest just yesterday.
“Trust me,” Ryker urged.
He didn’t have the strength to argue.
* * *
Rue was snuggled under the covers when he woke later in the day. He was facing the window, déjà vu momentarily getting the best of him when his eyes focused on Ryker standing in front of the large pane of glass.
When he stirred, the Black Hart turned, glancing at him over his shoulder.
He didn’t stare for long, seemingly checking Rue, found him fine, and then went back to staring outside at the darkening gray sky.
The sound of pattering rain, and the rumble of thunder in the distance did nothing to brighten the mood.
Shifting into an upright position, Rue pushed himself against the headboard, watching the material of the blankets pool in his lap. He was dressed in his own clothes, a new pair of sweatpants and a pullover sweatshirt, but they were no longer in his room.
“The fog doesn’t reach as high as this floor,” Ryker spoke first, cutting through the silence.
He kept his voice low, as though afraid to spook Rue, his tone calm and even.
“You can see the top of it from here.” He leaned forward slightly, staring off to the right.
“I can also see the pool house. The lights are on.”
That’s where Tod had been headed before he’d been attacked.
Thinking about what was out there caused bile to rise up the back of his throat, and Rue took a second to calm his nerves and prevent that from happening a second time before responding.
“Doesn’t mean they have a connection,” he said, and Ryker hummed in agreement.
“Only way to know for sure is if someone goes out there to check.”
Rue was on his feet in a flash, standing at Ryker’s side, clinging to his arm in a grip that might even leave bruises. “You can’t.”
Ryker didn’t seem too concerned over his outburst, merely turning to him and sighing. “Relax, sweetheart. I didn’t say it had to be me. And it sure as hell isn’t going to be you. Sit back down before you fall over. You still don’t look right. Your coloring is off.”
They stared one another down for a lengthy moment, and then Rue let him go and retreated back to the bed, perching on the edge of it.
He dropped his gaze to his hands in his lap, fidgeting his fingers as he recalled the bathroom and what had transpired between them. What the Black Hart had initiated.
“How did you learn how to do that?” he asked.
“What?”
He scowled, somehow knowing Ryker was playing dumb on purpose, but unable to lift his eyes and look at him again. “With the tub.”
“Cold water can help reset your nervous system,” he stated matter-of-factly. “The trick is getting the temperature just right.”
“And you just happened to know that?”
“I had a lot of panic attacks after you and Ryder discarded me.”
Rue winced. “That’s not…”
“You can’t even bring yourself to deny it.” He snorted, then leaned back against the windowsill. “Guess I really shouldn’t be surprised. You two have always been selfish. So, what happened? Ryder break up with you, so you ran away?”
“No.” How did he confess that the reason he’d left was because of Ryker instead? How was he supposed to put it into words without dying of embarrassment? “I thought…”
“You thought what, sweetheart?”