by Lucian Bane
“I think you know,” Caliber turned and gave him a side glance with those gray eyes that matched his stringy silver hair. Ruin realized at that point its disarray. Like he’d been running.
“What’s going on?”
Caliber glanced at Isadore then him. “We have a problem.”
An emotion hit him that he recognized but wasn’t entirely familiar with, It made him want to shake the information out of the man instantly.
As though sensing it, Caliber leveled his gaze at him. “Best to not even think that if you value your human body functions.”
The threat registered loudly with his human instincts and he suddenly lacked the oxygen in the small space not intended for three adult bodies. “Outside. Isadore comes with us?” He had the sense to ask at the very least.
Caliber’s face erupted in a huge false grin. “Oh, of course.” He nodded too much it seemed with bright eyes. “Isadore most definitely comes with us.”
RUIN
REVELATIONS
By Lucian Bane
Chapter One
Caliber paced before them in the moonlight as they stood on the pier outside of Isadore’s home. It was better than the small bathroom the three of them had just vacated after Caliber had rudely interrupted him and Isadore, appearing out of nowhere like a lunatic tangled in the shower curtain.
But even now, Ruin found himself oddly distracted not by the lethal grooves lining Caliber’s face, nor the fact that he towered a head above him and two above Isadore, but rather the flush in Isadore’s cheeks. He wanted time to ponder all that it meant. The infuriating man loved showing up at the oddest moments, but this time, appearing in the bathroom with them when he was seconds from reaching a sexual milestone with Isadore had Ruin ready to hurt something. Him, preferably.
Caliber came to an abrupt stop before Isadore and pointed at her while glaring at Ruin. The power rolling from the man’s body wasn’t dangerous as much as it was annoying. Like a lot of wind in Ruin’s face when he could do without the nuisance. “Look at her,” he growled before pacing again.
It was a clear directive and Ruin did as he was told and looked at her. She stared at him in a way that made him want to hurt Caliber. Her fear, guilt, and shame made the fire inside roil with the need to torch the entire vicinity.
“Are you looking?” Caliber still paced, annoyance making his voice nearly shrill. “Because you need to see it or this mission is paused.”
Mission. Ruin looked at him finally. “What mission?” It was time he learned, wasn’t it?
Caliber’s face flashed with quite a few unspoken things, things he wanted to say but couldn’t and Ruin burned with curiosity. He jabbed a finger toward Ruin. “I’m The Chasm Guardian.” He placed his palms on his chest. “I keep the chasm free of crossover bullshit.”
“Why did you find me?”
“Because I was told to.”
“By who?”
“By your commander, the Seventh Carnificem of Daguires Guild.”
“Who is whom? Exactly?”
“The Seventh. Carnificem. Of Daguires Guild.”
The man’s exasperation hit Ruin’s last nerve. “I don’t know who that is!” Ruin stepped toward him, ready to blast the answers from him. “Why am I here, who am I, who is this commander—what is my mission? And why can’t I remember things, what about Isadore, what role does she play in my mission, my life?”
“I can’t tell you that!” Caliber roared then caught himself, giving a singular controlled sigh. “I cannot . . . tell you that. It is not my job. But you can figure that out. And you should. You really should.” His final words were light and came with a hand rake through that stringy gray hair then a soft command, “Look at her.”
His pressing insistence said there was something to see and Ruin needed to see it. Ruin turned to her.
“And I mean really look.”
Ruin stood just before her and was immediately drawn into the two glistening doorways on her upturned face in the moonlight. Focusing his supernatural vision, he searched for something, anything that would give him answers. Any answers.
A few seconds in, Caliber barked, “Well? Tell me you see it.”
“I see . . . ” he placed his hands on either side of her face only to provoke her arousal. He was soon fighting to hear, see, and feel, around her racing pulse.
“You see what, man!”
“A wall.”
Caliber growled loud enough to shake the air particles and startle Isadore. Her fear spiked the fire inside him and Ruin clamped his jaw, fighting the urge to retaliate. She grabbed hold of his hands, her pulse immediately calmed and Ruin stroked his thumbs along her face.
“A wall,” Caliber muttered, still pacing, still angry. Maybe even more so now. “Well, there’s nothing else to do.” He yanked Ruin toward him and pressed various tattoos on his body, sending coordinates to flash in his brain. “You’ll have to take care of this before any more real business continues.”
“Your . . . ” Isadore angled her head at Ruin’s chest. “Light isn’t working.” She reached out and tapped the last rune Caliber had pressed and without looking, Ruin knew why it flickered.
“There’s more than one destination.”
She looked up at him with the curiosity of a child and Ruin had to resist the flyby urge to kiss her deeply.
“How many?” she asked.
“Three,” Caliber answered, clearly appalled with the high number.
“Three,” Isadore looked at Caliber. “Why three?”
“Because that’s what it’s going to take.” He nodded repeatedly.
“What is what going to take?” Isadore’s bold tone with the giant man flooded Ruin with a strange feeling; a good one. Caliber pointed at Ruin while staring at Isadore. “For him to see.”
Ruin’s instincts said he was supposed to share the man’s frustration with this delay in the mission—that Ruin still had no clear understanding of apart from instincts driving him—and yet he wasn’t. Not even a little.
“See what?” she said.
“See what is behind that wall in you.”
“What wall?” She looked from Ruin to Caliber. “What kind of wall?”
The spike of her fear in the air cut Ruin’s gut while Caliber muttered his eternal impatience with humans. “Now I have to tell Commander Athens that we’re on hold.” He aimed his words at Ruin along with a furious steel gaze, like that was the worst punishment. Ruin didn’t feel the emotions that sometimes produced the allowance for him to say the “sorry” word. He placed himself between the man’s energy pounding the air like an angry headache, and Isadore. This wasn’t Ruin’s problem or fault and judging by Caliber’s perpetual stare as he continued to pace, he was aware of that and it only added to his anger. Which was really beginning to bother Ruin. Rather quickly.
Caliber paused with wide eyes. “Ohhhh, you’re pissed? Good, good. I’m glad.” He nodded and faced him, hands on hips. “And I see your pissed and raise you a little fury!”
Power shot out with Caliber’s words and Ruin’s fire leapt from his pores to devour it like an explosion in reverse.
The man continued to bark nonsense, head bobbing, his every word a sonic boom of power that Ruin’s fire gobbled like a hungry fire dragon.
Caliber came to a halt and gave Ruin a cautious angled gaze. “Oh shit.” Then he vanished.
Ruin fought to contain what could only be described like the need to belch. The ice inside Ruin jerked out of his body just as his arms flew out with the blast, a huge wave of dense hot energy that exploded the trees around them like bombs.
Terror made him dizzy as Ruin spun around to meet a wall of ice. Relief hit him and the ice dissolved with a loud hiss of white vapor that Ruin swiped away.
Isadore stood there with wide, confused eyes, and Ruin pulled her into his embrace. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” He vaguely realized the words had come instinctively as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I didn’t mean it.”
She wrapped her arms around him, making sounds that brought an amused smile to his lips. She was consoling him. He’d never encountered a more disillusioned person than this woman. She should be angry with him for the dangerous act. Then he realized she didn’t know. She had no idea he’d nearly killed her. But the ice had protected her on instinct. A wave of emotion washed through him, causing his muscles to relax and the need to thank something came with the feeling. “Thank you.” She was responsible somehow for that protection. He wasn’t sure how, but she was.
She turned her face up and the urge to kiss her deeply hit him again. And with Caliber gone, he submitted with a reckless hunger, her lips suddenly the source of life. Even as she moaned right into his mouth, even as his tongue demanded things he didn’t understand, as his fingers pressed and molded her softness to him—he was aware that tasting her was an infallible law. And his every fiber raced to obey it.
Chapter Two
“Soooo . . . ” Isadore whispered as she shouldered her way past Ruin with a third suitcase. Just in case our journey is a long one. “Which direction is our first location?” She tossed her luggage in the back and flashed him a smile that made him once again want to finish what he’d started in the bathroom the night before. Sneaking out of her own house and leaving Stacy a note, or free pass to house sit while they were gone, had Isadore glowing with mischief.
But just beyond her smile and light tone, dread and fear hid. The wall. What was the wall? Why was there a wall? What kind of wall? She didn’t like the not knowing and he understood that part. But that didn’t explain her instinct to fear and dread the wall.
Ruin climbed in the passenger side of the truck and shut the door a little too hard. “North.”
“Ohhh, north, okay.” She climbed into the driver seat and he couldn’t help notice the curve of her . . . ass, yes, in her pants. Jeans, she called them. Her hair was pulled back, held by a red band and swishing like a horse’s tail when she turned her head. So many words he needed to learn still. Slang especially. Inside jokes, innuendo, passive aggression . . . Isadore was good at all of it and he was quickly picking it up but not fast enough for him. “I have family north. Maybe we can stop for a visit.”
More of that strange air that always came after intimacy, settled between them as she worked the shift into reverse and grabbed hold of the backseat to drive. Again, he was distracted with the push of her breasts in her white T-shirt. She wore a well-padded bra, white, but after seeing her naked, it was more than tormenting how they begged for him. Begged for his lips and tongue and…teeth.
He clamped his jaw and stifled a growl of need, turning his focus to the quickly passing swamp trees. He remembered her words then. “What family do you have up north?” Was that where they were headed? To family? Was the wall in her mind a fracture? A roadblock forbidding traffic beyond that point? He recalled the various scenarios from the medical dictionary.
Regardless of what it was, trauma of some sort caused walls, blocks and other medical disconnections, etcetera. Trauma involving lots of unmanageable pain. Someone she was close to would have that power. Family. So yes, maybe they were headed back home.
He examined his own feelings in the matter. Where did his eagerness to discover what lay beyond that wall, originate? Why did he have the need? What was its purpose? Desire? Intention? Reason?
Mysteries about her were bad enough, but the ones about himself seemed more difficult to accept. Nagging. So many things nagged at him. Mystery after mystery, puzzle after puzzle, vying for his attention. Figure me. Explain me. Solve me. Crack me.
Finger me.
Those words she’d once gasped to him burned through his body, the vision of her naked, perfect ass squirming and begging, tormented his mind. Ruin rolled down the window and gulped in the air as the memory of her coming so perfectly undone on his finger gripped him.
How was he supposed to help her if he couldn’t think past giving her pleasure? She begged for it every second without words. Her entire being cried desperately for it. To be cleansed and purged with . . . fire. It was like fire, the power and hunger, very much like the fire inside him. Could he demolish that wall with pleasure? Maybe. And he was all too willing to test the overcoming bad memories with good ones theory. But the brain was a tricky thing, not always responding predictable ways.
He’d have to play that one carefully.
“Can I see it?”
He glanced at Isadore, his heart racing at her soft inquisitive tone.
“The tattoo. The one that’s flickering.”
He regarded the shields over her eyes that she called sunglasses. He didn’t like them. “You’re driving.”
Her top lip raised on the right. “I know how to drive and look for Pete’s sake.” She checked all her mirrors as though demonstrating.
Ruin watched the yellow lines on the two lane road disappear under the truck then appear again. “You’re not a good driver.”
She gasped. “What? I am too! I have zero infractions on my record. Not one accident… that was my fault.” She sliced the air dramatically, jerking the truck a little then laughing boisterously and pointing at him. “Got you. I meant to do that. I can drive just fine. You can show me the tattoo at the gas station coming up? I just want to touch it.” She jerked up a hand. “Not in a weird way. And we’ll fuel up and get ready for a long drive.”
“Or short,” Ruin said, wondering over her wanting to touch him not in a weird way. “We don’t know how far north yet.” What did she mean by weird way? He couldn’t think of a single way she could touch him that he’d find weird or strange. He couldn’t seem to think of anything that didn’t involve her touching him, though.
She shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to plan for the worst. Or the best, if you like long road trips.” Judging by her tone and smile, she liked long road trips. Isadore reached and turned a dial on the radio and began moving her entire body to a banging noise that crackled around a whiney voice from somewhere in the dashboard. The awful sound faded in and out and Isadore smacked her palm repeatedly on the dash. “Come on you hunk-a-junk, give it to me.” More intermittent whacking then she growled and spun the other dial, producing a hissing groan from those hellholes hiding near his feet.
Ruin covered his ears with his hands. “I’d rather hear you sing.”
She spun the knob and it clicked, ushering in a lovely silence. “What you wanna’ hear? I know a few oldies. How about something classic?”
Ruin turned clenched eyes away, fighting the urge to plug his ears with something as she yelled out a song. How could she possibly sound worse than that auditory torture device she’d just relieved him of? “Isn’t that a gas station?” He pointed to a sign coming up.
“Too expensive,” she said, getting back to belting out her torture.
“Tell me about your mother,” Ruin yelled.
She fell silent for many seconds before sighing. “What do you want to know?” Her wretched tone said she knew the question was bound to come and was resigned to get it over with. It convinced Ruin he needed to extract every detail he could about her mother. Likely the bulk of her wall.
“Everything.”
She pushed her shades tight to her head, checking her mirrors again. Definitely a nervous twitch when caution flared. Danger. Trouble. “Okay,” she said lightly. “Well, it all started for me in those swamps. Literally. My mother believed in water birthing and she had me right there in those nasty waters.” She shook her head, disgust twisting her mouth. “She always said I was a miracle baby and now I know why. Bloody miracle I didn’t contract some fatal disease.”
“Wow.” Seemed to be an acceptable and suitable response even though Ruin didn’t find the incident that strange.
“Yeah, right. My father wasn’t much better. He cut the umbilical cord with the same knife he used to gut fish. I was homeschooled up until I left the swamp at thirteen when my mother decided she’d had enough of the swamp life.” Her tone ended on a light happy note a
nd she hummed now, giving the impression the story was over with that.
“Why did your mother get tired of the swamp?”
“Eh,” she shrugged a little. “You can’t blame her. Look at the place. It’s not exactly an easy environment for a city woman.”
“She’s from the city?”
“Yes, Boston.” Isadore turned into a gas station, craning her neck at the sign. “This is the kind of bargain we need. Two dollars and fifty-five cents a gallon, my God, I can’t believe I’m calling that a bargain,” she mumbled, zipping through the crowded parking lot way too fast before coming to a whip-lashing halt at a gas pump. He needed to learn how to drive. He never contemplated death except when in a vehicle with her. He was pretty sure dying wasn’t going to work out with his plans, and he was pretty sure he would if he didn’t take that little privilege from her, first chance.
Ruin looked around at the busy stop, wondering where everybody was going in such a hurry. He got out of the truck, met Isadore at the gas pump and watched her.
“Uh, this is the thing we use to put gas in—”
“I know what it is. And what it’s for.”
She lifted her glasses up and rested them on top of her head and the sudden view of her blue eyes stole his breath. “Well excuse me Mr. Smarty-pants, I was just trying to ‘teach’ you.”
He didn’t like the mocking way she said that one word but let it go this time as he studied his environment and ascertained all that he could from sight and the data he’d learned. She placed a palm on the truck, cocked her hip, and watched the numbers move on the pump. At a glance, he understood what they were for and was sure she’d stop at fifty dollars even. His gaze strayed back to her, studying again how she looked not wearing her baggy overalls.
He glanced around when the instinct to protect rushed over him. He caught sight of a man at a neighboring pump, staring at her. At her body, to be precise. Her ass to be even more precise. Ruin was sure the man was violating a major law. Several. And the need to judge him suddenly rose up with a recklessness.