19. You Cant Do This to Me
Selene
I lean my back against the door Ron just bolted shut. My mind is a frantic whirlwind, an overturned chessboard where none of the pieces make sense anymore.
I don't know what to think. I can't process it.
The blood. The dark pool spreading across the hardwood. The leather mask. The axe.
And that head. The hair soaked in red.
My brain, which is used to birthing horrors on paper, categorically refuses to process a horror so tangible and real. I'm shaking. I'm shaking so hard I can hear my teeth chattering together.
In the heavy silence of the locked room, I hear the rustle of Ron's clothes. Then, his voice. Low, broken by adrenaline, but soft.
"How about a hug?"
The question hangs in the air.
I don't answer. I don't have the strength to, nor the words. But my body moves before my mind does. I push off the wooden door and take a step toward him. Then another.
He immediately takes that as a yes. Two massive, strong, warm arms wrap around my shoulders and my back, engulfing me completely.
He pulls me against him with a protective force that makes my knees buckle.
I cling to his t-shirt, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
His scent saturates my lungs. He's a lifeline dropped into a sea of madness.
"I think..." he whispers into my hair, "I needed that."
I close my eyes, letting his heat melt the ice gripping my bones.
"Me too," I answer in a broken whisper, admitting, for once, to a vulnerability that terrifies me.
We stay like that for an indeterminate amount of time. But then, I feel the muscle of his jaw tense against my forehead. His grip shifts imperceptibly.
"Selene... listen to me carefully now."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heartbeat quickens.
Instinct freezes my blood.
"No." It's an instinctive, desperate denial.
"You don't know what I'm going to say," he murmurs, his voice terrifyingly calm.
Pure panic takes over.
"I already know what you're going to say," I shoot back, my voice rising half an octave.
His right hand lifts and begins to slowly stroke the back of my neck.
His fingers slide through my hair. I know this isn't a good sign.
This caress is a silent goodbye, the gesture of someone about to do something incredibly stupid and noble.
I hold him tighter. I dig my fingers into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, trying to keep him anchored to me, to stop him from moving.
"Listen..." Ron whispers, dipping his face toward mine. "It's just a human being out there. Monsters don't exist."
I cut him off. "Human beings can be worse than monsters, Willers."
I feel a heavy sigh lift his chest. "I'm not going to just wait in here for that psycho to pick us off one by one, Selene. And, more importantly, I am not going to put you in danger."
I squeeze him even tighter, locking my arms around his waist.
The idea that he wants to protect me, that he is willing to go out there against an axe-wielding killer just to keep me safe... is staggering. It's a direct hit to my soul. No one has ever protected me. No one has ever put themselves between me and danger.
"Come on," he starts again, trying to use his usual breezy tone to defuse my terror. "I was a college athlete, you know? I've got a pretty good chance of kicking his ass."
Despite myself, my lips tremble and a tiny, desperate smile forms against his shoulder. Only Ron Willers could make me laugh at a time like this.
"Are you making fun of me?" he grumbles, feigning offense. A warm vibration runs through his chest. "I'm not in that bad of shape, come on."
"I can see that," I whisper, the words slipping out without a filter. "But you're the one kidding yourself if you think I'm going to let you go."
His arms tighten even more around me. He ducks his head and presses a kiss into my hair. A long, firm, disarming kiss.
No. I'm shaking again. He can't do this. He can't play the hero for me and get himself killed.
"I'm just asking you for one thing..." he murmurs, his voice suddenly sounding incredibly fragile. "I'm just asking you to... take care of Ollie... he doesn't have anyone else."
The world crumbles.
A hot tear escapes, sliding quickly down my cheek.
He's the one who doesn't have anyone else. And yet he still takes care of everyone. He keeps smiling and being upbeat and I... I am sobbing now.
A horrible, strangled sob bursts from my chest, tearing at my throat.
I'm crying because of his goodness, I'm crying because of his past, I'm crying because I'm terrified of losing him.
I'm crying because I'm just an idiot barricaded behind useless fears and I didn't see—no, I stubbornly refused to see—how rare and wonderful this man is.
"Hey..." he whispers.
With infinite gentleness, he takes my face in his hands, lifting it. His rough thumbs wipe away the tears that keep falling relentlessly.
He still has that half-smile on his face.
In the middle of all this shit, in the middle of the horror, the blood, and the death... he is stubbornly continuing to smile at me.
And I can't resist him anymore.
I can't lose him. I can't let him walk out that door, I can't let him go. My heart is already irreparably shattered into a thousand pieces... how much more damage could I possibly do to myself by giving in to him?
I lean forward. And, with nothing left to lose, I close the distance.
My lips crash into his, molding against his mouth in a desperate need for life, as I lift my hands and sink my fingers into his hair.
I have very few certainties right now, and all of them have to do with Ron Willers.
The first: yeah, I could never live another day without kissing him again.
The second: yeah, his hair really is as soft as it looks.
And the third, the most important: no, he is absolutely never leaving this room alone.
A guttural, surprised but scorching sound vibrates in his chest.
Ron doesn't hesitate for a second. He returns the kiss with the exact same fervor and desperation as mine.
His hands slide behind my back and pull me flush against him.
He kisses me like he wants to devour me, like he's been waiting for nothing but this moment for weeks.
And, exactly like last time, all his sweetness slips into the background, instantly burned away to release only his raw, ravenous passion.
Ron Willers is a man who gives his all, holding nothing back. His lips are soft and hot. His hands are scorching brands on my body, touching me and holding me like his life depends on it. He is gentle, attentive, but at the same time, he is pure fire.
I part my lips with a sigh and he takes control. His tongue slips into my mouth with a delicious dominance, tasting me, while his teeth tease my lower lip, pulling a moan from my throat.
And I... I realize with bitter and total clarity that I don't think I've ever written a decent kiss in my entire career. Because what I'm feeling right now is simply indescribable. Words aren't enough.
"Don't do it," I whisper against his lips, my voice shaking, my hands still clinging to his shoulders.
Ron slides his thumbs over my cheeks, caressing me, wiping away the tears I can't stop. Damn new-cowboy. I want to scream in frustration, but instead only more silent sobs escape.
"Please," I whisper.
He stops for a second, stroking my jawline, and an imperceptible, brazen, gorgeous smirk pulls at his lips.
"You don't strike me as the praying type, Dusk."
"Don't joke around, Ron."
"I'm serious," he murmurs, resting his forehead against mine.
His breath tickles my face. "I have zero desire to play the martyr tonight. I'll be the first one to make sure I make it back in one piece, I promise you. I absolutely want to continue..."
He drops his gaze, and one of his fingers brushes my chest, pointing to the electric, burning space between us. "...our unfinished business."
I let out a low sound, halfway between a desperate whine and a grunt of protest.
I shake my head, wiping my face with the back of my hand, and take a step back, squaring my shoulders. The crying stops, replaced by an icy, burning determination.
"No way," I declare.
"Selene..." he tries to warn me, his tone suddenly going protective and authoritative.
"I am not your damsel in distress, new-cowboy," I cut him off, locking my eyes on his. I clench my fists at my sides. "Let's go kick this asshole's ass."