Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3)(77)

Matt’s lips move, but they can’t seem to form words, just a slow series of motions that carry no sound.

But Fionn seems to decipher the plea, his focus still locked on Matt. He laughs, a callous and cold delight that quickly dies. “Help? You want someone to help you?” Fionn shakes his head. “Do you really think I would ever, ever let you threaten her and walk away? Do you seriously think you could hurt her, and I would just let you live? You don’t deserve mercy. When have you ever given that to anyone else? So the only thing I’ll give to you is suffering.”

With his final word, Fionn delivers a punch to Matt’s face that renders him unconscious. His head drops forward. His breathing is shallow, a liquid rumble. And then it goes quiet.

We’re both staring at the man on the wall when excited voices come from a few rooms away. Fionn turns to me and I’m sure my face is an identical mask of panic. “Get under the covers,” I hiss, pointing to the bed before I rush to the mannequin lying on the floor. I whip the burlap sack from its head and pull it down over Matt’s instead, cringing when I catch a glimpse of the bulging eye. With a few deep breaths to recenter myself, I turn to check on Fionn’s progress. But he still hasn’t moved.




“Come on, Doc. Under the covers. Make some creepy sounds.” I take him by the hand and lead him there, forcing him to lie beneath the stained white sheet. His face is expressionless when I cover him over just in time to creep out a pair of couples who clutch each other and laugh. I keep them moving toward the exit, and as soon as they’re gone, I take the walkie-talkie from my pocket and turn it on.

“Wendy, it’s Rose, come in.”

Static crackles on the line. And then, “I’m here, over.”

“I’m on the second level of the haunted house. Someone puked all over the floor,” I say, casting a glance to the dead man hanging from the wall as Fionn casts the blanket aside and rises from the bed. “I’ll clean it up, but can you shut it down? Over.”

“Yeah, the last group just went through for the night anyway. Do you need help? Over.”

“No, I’m all good, thanks. It’ll take a while, but I can finish here. I’ve got keys so I can do a final lockup. I’ll see you tomorrow. Over and out.”

I turn down my walkie-talkie, sliding it into my pocket as I let out a long stream of air through pursed lips. My arms tremble. My heart slams so hard against my sternum that it could break bone. Fionn is standing in the center of the room, unmoving, eerily still. He watches as I pull the jester hat from my head and let it fall to the floor. I must look fucking deranged with my hair in wonky pigtails and my black-and-white makeup probably smeared with sweat and my clown costume streaked and stained. Maybe I am as unhinged as I look. Maybe that’s what he’s thinking as he looks at me, his expression unreadable. The music and screams stop, plunging us into silence so abrupt and all-consuming it nearly hurts.

This has gone too far. This time, there’s no coming back. I just don’t know how to be anything but what I am. Mayhem.

“I started it,” I whisper. But I think we both know that I’m not talking about Matt Cranwell. And for the first time, I feel remorse for what I’ve done. The choices I make might suit me, but maybe this life is only meant to be lived alone.

A tear breaches my lashes. Another quickly follows.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Fionn breaks his haunted, motionless vigil. He strides toward me.

And the moment his lips touch mine, I know I’ll never be the same.





DARK CORNERS


Fionn



This isn’t just a kiss.

This is what it feels like to break wide open.

I frame Rose’s face with my bloody hands. I devour her with need. She grips the back of my neck and consumes me with equal desire. This kiss is all bite. It’s teeth clashing. Moans and whimpers and sweeping tongues. It’s urgency and demand. It’s an unleashing of desire that we’ve pushed beneath unraveling rules and conditions for far too long.

I’m drowning in her, swept away in a current I couldn’t escape if I wanted to. Her scent. Her taste. The more I take, the more I want. The more she gives, the more I need. I don’t know how I ever lived without the feel of her mouth on mine or the vibration of her moan on my lips. Her electric touch hums in my flesh. It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt.

I slide a hand down her face, her makeup smearing beneath my fingertips, deepening the kiss as I push her toward the bed. We both fumble with our clothes, me with the buttons of her costume and her with my belt. When we make it to the bed, I break the kiss just long enough to push the top sheet and mannequin off the edge and onto the floor.




“Anyone could walk in here,” Rose says, her tone breathless as I guide her down to the mattress.

“I don’t fucking care.” I catch a glimpse of her smile before I dive back into the kiss, pulling her baggy pants down and then the leggings and thong beneath. I bite her neck just hard enough to make her gasp. I soothe the nip with a kiss as I run a finger over her pussy, trailing the liquid heat of her arousal over her clit. I swallow her moan, lavish her tongue with mine, consume every sound of pleasure she makes as I swirl my touch over her swollen bundle of nerves. She writhes beneath me. She hums at my touch. She breaks the kiss to frame my face with her hands, her eyes dancing between mine.