Page 76 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. Two

“Like hell we are,” Andrew grouses.

Glancing around, I realize Oliver and Wren have disappeared. “Yeah, I want to make sure she’s okay. Andrew, I know this isn’t what you want, but you’ve gotta deal with it. If you try to fight your way out of here again, I won’t stop Rhett from doing whatever he wants to you.”

Not true. But obviously Andrew isn’t going to cooperate voluntarily.

With a huff, Andrew throws himself onto the couch and crosses his arms. He’s pouting like a five-year-old, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. I’m already halfway out of the room, praying Rhett can find the willpower to control himself.

In the bathroom, Wren is sitting on the counter, and Oliver is gently dabbing at her cut with a cotton ball. Disinfectant and bandages litter the area next to the sink.

“I’ve got it.”

The way I say it holds no room for discussion, so Oliver moves out of my way. He touches my arm, right above my own cut. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’ll deal with it in a minute. Can you make sure Rhett doesn’t hurt Andrew too much?”

As Oliver leaves, his hand trails across my back, but I barely feel it. My only focus is on Wren.

She attempts a wobbly smile. “I’m okay, Ell. The cut isn’t that deep.”

I step in between her legs and grab onto her waist to hide the way my hands are shaking. Seeing that knife flying toward her—realizing I didn’t have enough time to get her out of the way—fuck. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve felt that mind-numbing, no-thoughts-just-act kind of panic.

My eyes lock onto hers. “Never again, Wren.”

“What?”

“Don’t youeverput yourself in harm’s way to protect me. If one of us is going to get hurt, it’s going to be me. Every goddamn time. You got it?”

“Ell—”

“No, I mean it. I never want to see a weapon aimed at you when it should be pointed at me. Never step in front of me like that again.”

She tilts her head down and stays silent.

“Wren. Promise me.”

“I can’t,” she whispers.

“You can,” I grit out, “and you fucking will.”

She shakes her head.

“Why not?” I demand, fighting the urge to shake her until she sees some sense.

“Because I can’t bear the thought of seeing you hurt!” She pokes her finger into my chest. “You don’t like seeing a weapon pointed at me? I don’t like seeing a weapon pointed at you! How am I supposed to stand by and just watch you get hurt? Or die? Fuck, Ell, I love you too much to do that. I know it’s scary—I was terrified. But I was more scared of losing you than I was of getting hurt.”

My heart fucking stops. I don’t even think she realizes she said it. I stare at her, waiting for it to register, but it doesn’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.

“Like what?”

“Like… like you’re afraid but also happy.”

I hesitate, willing my heart to stop pounding wildly, but my pulse only races more. Leaning down, I keep my eyes locked on hers and whisper, “Because I love you, too.”

Her lips part from a mixture of shock and realization. When she releases a breathy, “Oh,” and slowly blinks, I think that means her mind has caught up with what she said.

Moving my hands from her waist, I hold her face gently and kiss her. Her arms wrap around my neck, and there’s something about the way she does it that has goosebumps spreading across my skin.