by Lucian Bane
Ruin swept her ankles and leaned into her, getting her on the ground only to have her legs locked around his head. He pried them apart with sheer force, making her roar in resistance. She was definitely fucking strong. He finally made his way on top and realized the mistake the second he did.
The link he fought so hard made more connections he didn’t want, translating the data of her body into his mind, creating images he’d not recover from. He clenched his eyes at the blasphemous thoughts just as Sam’s forehead slammed into his, breaking the connection.
Positions reversed now, she straddled him and peppered him with open handed whacks across his face, more humiliating than painful.
Ruin fought to catch her hands only to have her snake out of his hold every single time he did. He flipped her off of him when it was clear he couldn’t restrain those bands of reckless vipers. They both scrambled to their feet and at spotting blood on the edge of her mouth, more instincts slammed his stomach. He fought the protective urges and blocked her sudden explosion of punches and kicks that she landed more than not. Ruin realized he couldn’t fucking hurt her and was suddenly stuck letting her kick his ass until she was content.
But content was clearly no part of her dictionary when it came to ass kicking. Random lectures accompanied every blow, all amounting to him never daring to call her a woman again, or a liar, or anything else disrespectful, with those weird little non-curse words mixed in.
Ruin stumbled on something and fell and she stormed after him, again straddling him for more face smacking.
The fire inside him chose that moment to coordinate to her drive, her chemicals, her physical attributes in every facet. Once the process engaged full force, it was a hurricane inside him, storming his mind and body until he was fully subject to it, eager for it, blind to it, needing it. He discerned every injury she’d sustained while fighting at that demonic hollow, replaying how she’d tried so hard to help him and Isadore. The fire wrapped the injuries with perfect heat, the ice alternating in supersonic succession until they were healed.
She gasped and got off of him. “Y-you’re glowing. Your tattoos are glowing.”
He groaned and gasped as the changes took hold of him. Connecting, linking, hot, hard, irrevocable. Damn her. Damn the god that made him this way.
“Get away from me,” he gasped, balling up tight, fighting the feelings.
“Dude are you serious, I was just beeyotch slapping you. Look, I’m sorry, you want to hit me? Go ahead, do it.”
He felt her extended hand without looking and struck out at the offensive limb. She locked her forearm to his and tugged, forcing him to sit. Grabbing his other forearm, she pulled and Ruin yanked, throwing her down to the ground next to him.
“Okay you still want to fight?” she said, winded.
“No. Don’t touch me again.”
“Don’t be a dick and I won’t. But keep this attitude up and we’ll have lots of good times just like this, I can go all night long with any dude.”
“Shut up,” he gasped as his mind made more unwanted connections with her words, adding jealousy to the sick range of emotions that assaulted him.
“Fine. I’m going in. When you want real help, let me know.”
It took everything Ruin had not to stop her. Not to follow her. He focused on the rage inside, fed on it. He just needed to think of that and nothing else, nothing else.
That worked great until her laughter reached him minutes later. She had no right to be happy or laughing while he was dying. He got up and stormed toward the house, intent on making her as miserable as he had to be.
Chapter Nine
Ruin found her and Scriber chatting like life-long pals when he made it to the kitchen. They stopped at seeing him in the doorway, and Ruin didn’t miss the twinkle in the inky bastard’s eyes. He’d taken on his human form. For what? Ruin looked at the boy, annoyed with all the people he was forced to deal with. “Does this kid even have a name?”
“Luke,” the boy said, scratching his cheek.
Ruin eyed Sam’s raised brows and cool expression while Scriber lowered his head.
“The ink man has a human form,” Luke said.
“Yeah, I know,” Ruin said, glaring at Scriber.
“You should try taking a shower,” Sam said, casually. “You smell like hell. Are you hungry?”
The mention of food sent his stomach into convulsions but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of that information.
Sam pointed at the wall. “That box right there is full of food, help yourself.” She stood and tossed her head side to side, curious. “Wow, I feel…like I’ve slept a week. I’ll have that shower if you’re going to eat.”
“Yeah, whatever.” The sudden onslaught of unwanted shower images sent Ruin running to the box at the wall, tearing through it in a frenzy. “Did the boy even eat? Or were you too busy to think of that?”
“Of course he did,” Sam said as she walked out. “Fed him right off.” Her tone said she’d caught his attitude and didn’t appreciate it.
Good. Very good, he liked very much doing things she didn’t appreciate. It certainly brought a desperately needed balance to his miserable universe.
****
Caliber checked the area to make sure him and Scriber were alone. “How is he?”
Scriber let out a huge sigh. “A mess. Barely hanging on.”
Caliber matched his sigh and sat on the little porch of the safe house. “We cloaked?” He did not want to face Ruin at that moment.
Scriber nodded. “He’s sleeping.”
Caliber let out a breath and shook his head a little. “Glad you’re here to keep things in order.”
“Order is not at this place.”
“I know that,” Caliber hissed, hating that fact. Nothing was once in order since they began this little journey. “I mean it could be a lot worse. And we knew it might end the way it has.”
“You knew,” Scriber said.
“No, I wagered,” Caliber said, offended with his tone. “You think I wanted to make that wager, or wanted it to be true?”
Scriber sat in silence, looking around. “Sam is handling it well.”
“Of course she is, she’s a Syndesmos. I only wished I’d found her first,” Caliber whispered.
“Speaking of links, he’s not taking his.”
“But he is linking?”
“Technically, but he’s fighting it. We don’t know what that will do to the integrity of that connection. I can feel his rage, he’s even planning to revolt.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“As in…”
“As in premeditating his rebellion.”
“Holy…”
“Shit, yes,” Scriber whispered the finished thought.
“Then fix that,” Caliber whined quietly.
“Fix it?”
“I mean what’s it going to take?”
“It’ll take him loving her.”
“Then make that happen. What’s the current status of the link?”
“About ten percent.”
“Made up of what?”
“Protective urges and jealousy, which is feeding his rage.”
“Dammit,” Caliber said. “And we have no idea how long this little intermission is going to last.” He stood now and paced, raking a hand through his hair. “If they find him while he’s half-linked, they’re going to hit hard. You have to speed up that connection somehow.”
“I’m working on it.”
Caliber sat again, interested. “You have a plan? Anything I can help with?”
“Well it would help if she at least looked more like a woman. After that, the link should take over. Especially if I play on his jealousy.”
Hope filled Caliber. “Right! I’ll see what I can do to help that along. Meanwhile, is she cooperative? I mean with the entire mission?”
“Yes. Of what she knows. Her Negotiator has prepped her well over the years. She was nearly expecting all of it.
And the boy…”
“Right, the boy. How is he?” Caliber waited with worry over that answer. He was considered a mystery liability at this point.
“He’s good. I think he’ll help the process as much as he’ll complicate it at first.”
“As to be expected. We’ll keep an eye on him. But you need to convince her that if she wants to help, she needs to be a woman.”
Scriber gave a light groan.
“That bad?”
“She loathes being treated like anything but a man. I gave her a hint of a compliment and she clammed up.”
Caliber pointed at him, standing. “Use that angle. Use whatever you have to, but use it. This prophecy is unfolding on its own timeline and you know we’re not privy to it.”
Scriber doodled with a fingernail on the porch with a nod. “Understood.”
****
“What do you mean,” Sam whispered, glancing at the doorway to make sure Ruin wasn’t up yet. “Why does it have to matter if I’m a woman?” She sat across from Scriber, fighting not to stare at his naked torso, something another man would never do, nor would they be trying not to. But something happened to her last night. While she slept? No, before. When she’d had her little scrap with Big Guy. She could no longer say his name without feeling weird. And then she was having thoughts she never once had in her life. About men. And women. All in the same sentence
“Sam,” Scriber began, his voice softer than usual, making her stomach feel funny because of it. “The link only works with a woman.”
“But…I mean I’m technically that.” She kept her voice as low as she could next to whispering.
He shook his head a little and leaned forward, causing her to back away a bit. “I mean a real woman.”
She stared at him, not liking where he was going with that. “I’m not…I can’t,” she barely whispered, “do that kind of stuff with him. He’s in love with another woman.”
“Sam, if you don’t…this mission will be lost. The link isn’t final until…certain things happen. Do you understand the magnitude of this prophecy? The magnitude of the position you’re in at this moment?”
Shit. She swallowed and nodded. “But I can’t force that,” she whispered. “He has to…I mean…I don’t even know if I could even if he…” she glanced at the doorway then back at Scriber with wide eyes. “I’ve never been a woman. You understand what I mean by that?”
“With practice and the right clothes—“
She shook her head rapidly. “No, I mean I’ve neeeeever been a woman.” She angled her head to see if he was getting what she meant.
Realization slowly registered on Scriber’s face. “You’ve never…”
“Ne-ver,” she mouthed with wide eyes. “No plans to either.”
Scriber stood and paced a little, and Sam averted her gaze from the sleek muscular form. What was wrong with her? “This changes things.”
Hope filled her at hearing that. “Listen, I don’t mind being friends, I can be really good at that, it’s what I’m good at.”
He quickly sat and took her hands in his and she fought not to jerk them out. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “This changes things in a very good way.”
“Changes what?”
Sam yelped just like a scared girl, pulling her hands out of Scriber’s at the sudden booming voice of Ruin behind her.
“Morning,” Scriber said. “I was just talking to Sam about where I should shop for new clothes. To fit in better. I plan on staying in this form more.”
Sam fought to hold Ruin’s hard gaze and not flinch. The way a man would. She cleared the little scared pussy out of her throat and mumbled, “Coffee’s ready.”
“No thank you.” He turned and left the room, and Sam didn’t breathe again until the bathroom door shut.
“Listen to me,” Scriber whispered. “I need your help with him. He’s already started linking to you and I need you to help that along.”
“How,” she whispered feeling wrong talking about this, “everything I do is wrong.”
“Not wrong, no. He’s fighting the link, that’s why he’s angry. You said you felt better last night? That’s because he healed you, the link needs to protect you. That look he just had? He doesn’t like me talking to you. Protective. Jealous.”
Sam’s mouth opened more with each announcement until she was officially jaw-dropped. “Are you shiting me?”
“Not one bit.”
Sam was horrified. Horrified for him. “So this is like… forcing him?”
“Call it force, call it nature. It is what it is and I cannot change it and I need your help to make that connection. All you have to do is…be a woman.”
She gasped in more horror. “I don’t know how! I was not shiting you when I said I was raised to be a boy, a man, trained for it, practiced it, I’m good at it!”
“I realize that,” he whispered. “I just need you to try. Start with getting new clothes, wear a little make up or jewelry. Take me into town and shop with me,” Scriber angled a look around her then met her gaze. “We’ll get new clothes for both of us, he doesn’t need to know why you’re buying them. It’s not his business.”
“Got that right,” she whispered indignantly before eyeing him with worry.
“You can do this. All your life you were given things to become. This is just one more. I need you to become a woman.”
Sam flopped back in her chair in exasperation, hands hanging between her legs. “I’m going to suck at being a woman after practicing being a man all these years!”
“I don’t think he’ll notice.”
Sam made her eyes huge. “He notices everything and he’s quick to point out my every flaw! If I want to kick his ass for his insults while being a man, I’ll likely kill him as a woman! How will that play out in your great prophecy?”
“Sam, you’re changing your looks, not your attitude.”
She cocked her jaw slowly left, curious. “What you mean, just my looks?”
“As in your clothes, that’s all. Physical appearance.”
“So I can keep…who I am? The way I am?”
“Absolutely,” he whispered. “I think you’re quite sexy when you’re strong.” Heat filled her cheeks as Scriber got up and walked off. “Hey Ruin. I’ll grab a shower before Sam runs me into town.”
“For what,” he nearly barked, making Sam’s insides jolt.
“I told you. A new wardrobe. Maybe you can babysit the boy while we’re gone.”
Ohhh. Sam hurried and busied herself with making fresh coffee, scared to see how all this was affecting the Big Jealous Guy.
Become a woman. Become a woman. It was just another something to learn, that’s all. Like learning to dance. Or sing. Or fight. Or sew.
She turned with the coffee pot and ran into the wall of man with no shirt. What was it with the no shirts? A man wouldn’t mind, a man wouldn’t mind, she repeated to herself. “Making fresh coffee if you stand aside.”
He moved and she focused her gaze on the coffee pot, trying not to hurry. Casual. Cool. Relaxed. “You sleep okay?”
“Why are you nervous?”
Oh hell. “Half naked men with scary tattoos isn’t exactly the most common sight in a kitchen first thing in the morning.
“And did Scriber’s bother you that much?”
“Yes,” she said. “Just because I think of myself a man doesn’t mean I’m used to half naked ones running around.”
“Why is he getting a new wardrobe?” He said it like the idea was lame as fuck.
She shrugged. “Why should I know or care?”
“Good question.”
Sam felt his eyes following her around felt the burn of his accusation. Fighting to gain an upper hand with him, she sat at the table and met his hard gaze. “You sleep okay?”
“You asked that already.”
“And you never answered.”
“No, I didn’t sleep okay.”
She sipped her coffee. “That mattress is ha
rder than most.”
“My dick was harder than most.”
Sam nearly choked with raised her brows, fighting not to show the chaos that image caused in her body. “That’s good to know.” Shiiiiiite.
“Is it? You like knowing about that?”
“It was sarcasm.”
“Are you sure? Samantha?”
She kept her gaze lowered, biting her tongue, sure that what came out of her mouth would be used against her in a way she didn’t care to deal with.
“You know, for a woman who is all man, you sure do like men.”
“No I don’t,” she whispered.
“Lie,” he said evenly.
Sam was suddenly stuck in immobility, her anger brewing far slower than she needed. “You done talking about your dick?” She stood and met his gaze, held on to it like a Pit Bull. Sam called on fighting instincts and faced him like any number of her worst nightmares. “How about you get some clothes on. Instead of prancing around like a jealous lover.”
Sam braced for impact as Ruin stormed up to her in one stride. Staring down into her face, he crucified her with all the loathe and contempt in his stare. She was suddenly twelve years old again, staring up into the face of Jeremy Jones, just before she got her first official ass whipping. But instead of having a fist slammed into her stomach, he slowly closed his eyes and growled before stalking off.
Isadore’s body sagged with a huge gasp when he was out of range. She made her way to the counter on trembling legs. Dear God, what was it with that one? She slammed her fist onto the tile, vowing to become stronger. More ready just before she reminded herself that it was all new territory. That’s all. Just unfamiliar territory. She’d have to learn. Master it, in fact. Like she did anything and everything she set her mind to.
Chapter Ten
Ruin sat in the back seat of the car with Luke, glaring at the back of Sam’s head, hating her more than ever for being the one that engaged his stupid link instinct, forcing him to be things he did not want to ever be again in his fucking existence. He slid his gaze to Scriber, reminding himself where inky was in his hater list. Tippy top. If he thought Ruin didn’t know what he was up to, he was stupid. He had Scriber’s angle, his number, his slant. He and his God…Ruin lowered his head and shook it as fury gripped him hard. How could this God do this to him? What had he ever done to this benevolent Supreme Being? He’d barely taken a breath to mourn his wife’s death, and now this. Now, he was being forced to connect again. Another woman, of all blasphemous things. He’d never cooperate. He’d find a way to ruin it all, demolish every bit of their plans until the heavens trembled with his agony and rage.
