Page 16 of Blind Devotion (Letters of Ruin #1)

Six Years Ago

Color replaced the darkness. Blue skies with scattered clouds.

Brown tree trunks, some with emerald foliage and others with pink cherry blossoms. Yellow dandelions poked out from the mowed lawn, swaying with the breeze.

The green grass tickled my legs as I ran through the yard toward the boy, or should I say ‘man’ of my dreams, now that he was over nineteen and all.

“Tessa, where are you going?” one of my friends loudly hissed from behind me. “The game’s not over.”

It was for me. Adrien was hunkered down at the picnic table, carefully bent over his origami while the adults barbecued closer to the house and most of us younger people played hide-and-seek.

His dark hair shaded his gaze from the world, and all I wanted was to tuck the strands behind his ear and stroke my finger down his facial scar.

He only played when I was the seeker. The moment anyone else took that role, he sat the game out. My girlfriends grumbled about the unfairness, but I loved it.

“Paper boy,” I called out on approach.

My friends giggled and shrieked playfully in the distance. The birds chirped in the trees. The scent of grilled filet mignon and sausages in the air made my mouth water. Everything was just perfect, especially him.

He lifted his head and rolled his eyes at me, even though a smile teased at his lips.

“Do not call me that.”

“Got you to pay attention.”

“You little brat.”

If I were anyone else, those words would probably be a threat, but not to me.

Man, I loved his accent. Smooth and breathy, it gave me the best goose bumps.

Dark hair that was just a little too long, dark-blue eyes you could get lost in, a sharp jawline made to rest on my head, a scar on his face that gave him that touch of danger his family was known for, abs for days, and tattoos down his arm and back that just made me want to fan myself.

He was the most attractive man I had ever seen.

My human-sized Gilly. My paper boy mafia man. My future husband, and I wasn’t just saying that because he was dreamy.

He was technically my fiancé ever since Babbo and his dad signed the alliance contract about eight years ago, even though none of my friends knew it yet.

To them, he was just my pen pal and close friend who came to visit from Europe every so often.

I made the mistake of trying to push the issue with them almost a year ago, just after I turned thirteen, and the delusional comments were off the charts.

Rosa even told me that since he had never even kissed me, there was no way I meant anything more to him than a kid friend, or worse, a kid sister.

Well, I was going to get that kiss by the end of the summer or at least before he turned twenty in January, no matter what it took.

“Whatcha making?” I sidled up into the place next to him on the bench. The orange paper in his hands crackled and rustled as he scratched its folds into the shape he wanted.

He side-eyed me with a smirk before turning his attention back to his creation.

No flinch. No aggressive response. No irritation.

Not like what Rosa’s older sister got, not thirty minutes ago when she tried to flirt with what was mine.

I bit my lips together to avoid bursting out in giggles at the memory of the face she made when he turned his back on her and walked away without a single word.

“This.” He handed over his latest origami creation. “What?”

“Nothing.” I nudged his shoulder with my own and gazed up at him between my eyelashes. Did it bring me immeasurable pleasure to know he was only ever so unguarded with me? Heck yes, it did. Proud and loving it.

“What do you think?” He nodded at the not-quite three-dimensional shape.

“I’m guessing…” I twisted the paper figure around in my hands. Four legs. A tail. A mane and a snout. “A lion? Who’s this one for?”

“You, of course. You still have the butterfly I gave you?”

“Duh.”

“Keep them together. The lion will keep your butterfly safe, princesse .”

I loved it when he called me that. “Why?”

“Do you know what the lion symbolizes?”

I shook my head.

“It means protection, courage, power. It fights to keep what it has and treasures what it cares for. Its loyalty is bound by nature. Its fierceness keeps the monster at bay, and with every battle it fights, it grows stronger.”

“Everything a butterfly isn’t.” I fake-pouted.

He tugged me into his chest with a chuckle, and I relaxed against his chiseled pecs. He probably meant nothing by this, being so much older. He had never done more than peck my cheek, but I hoped he held me forever. Don’t let me go, please. I would beg if I had to.

“Do you know why I call you butterfly?”

I shook my head against his chest, not speaking in case it broke the spell. He pulled away and brushed his knuckles through my hair.

“You soar over the world, mon papillon , precious and beautiful. You take in the light. You spread it. Happiness follows wherever you are. You are the hope of new beginnings.”

I smiled against his chest and sucked in his scent—woodsy and smoky with a tinge of fruit. I could get lost in that. “What are you?”

“I’m your lion, and nothing can harm you because I will always protect you.”

“What about when you’re not with me?”

“No matter where I am, you will be safe. Always. That is my promise to you. My lion to your butterfly. Wherever you are, a part of me will be too.”