Ruin: The Waking (6 page)

Chapter Six

Ruin watched Isadore from the foot of her bed, trying to process all of the
new
things he’d learned in the past four hours. He couldn’t sleep so, he chose to study the data in his head while he
watched
her sleep. His original intention was to gain more understanding while she wasn’t provoking him, and he seemed to need to do that in close proximity to the subject.

Only, she was provoking him still
, even in her sleep, but not in a way he’d ever have guessed. He carefully draped the sheet over her exposed foot only to watch her kick it off immediately—as she had done the previous ten times. Why would she not want her foot covered while cocooning the rest of her body, minus her arms, in the despised barrier? He paced around the bed again. There was a lot about her that affected him. He was sure there wasn’t
one
thing that didn’t, in fact.

S
he slept with no clothes, and two hours ago, that wouldn’t have been an issue for him. But it was
clearly
a huge issue. He dared not touch said huge issue, feeling like it would only cause more trouble. He was sure of it. Already, he simply had to relive the stroke of her small finger along his length and he was filled with fire all over again. Disdain shuddered through him at the thought of having any part of his body
not
respond to his will. That was a problem. The
cock,
as she’d called it, had a mind of its own, and it had Isadore all
over
its mind. Ruin couldn’t seem to resist the odd fascination that came when he considered the amount of power and influence the phallus exacted on him.

Since he couldn’t think about a thing
he’d learned, he instead focused on that sheet. Was there a point during the night that she kicked it off entirely? Visions of her touching herself from that first night he’d watched her, brought that fire in his lungs. The curve of her spine when she arched into her touch and the way she’d held her knees back. He clearly recalled the way her breasts rose up, the peaks tight and hard. And how they bowed beneath her fingers when she ran them over them. At the time, he had no idea what she’d been doing. And now that he did… and that he’d
felt
her desire
for him,
he was beyond driven.

Ruin’s gaze rested on that sheet until
it occurred to him—a lot like realizing where a light switch was—that he could get the barrier off. He blew softly, filling the room with hot air, careful to do it slowly and not wake her. But not because he feared getting caught, he feared not seeing her. He’d never been so hungry for anything.

The moment came when she did as he’d hoped. She kicked the sheet off, and Ruin’s legs literally weakened from what that did to him. This was bad. So very bad. Even as he thought it, he angled his head, etching her every silky curve into his mind like the security of the world rested on it. And it did, in his world.

As he stared at her naked breasts, it occurred to him. Out of all the wretched things he’d observed thus far in his limited time, he’d finally found something perfect. A cool breath filled his lungs and he blew gently over her, watching in rapture as her nipple hardened to yet another perfection. He swept his tongue over his lip. Everything he’d learned said it wasn’t normal to hunger for a human. And yet, with a near brutal intensity, he hungered for this one.

He
held back his breath when she turned on her side, presenting her back and… Ruin leaned his head, looking to see what was between her legs that she’d touched. He hadn’t gotten a look at that and now he was ready to kill for that data. No, not data. To see what she guarded so vehemently from his mind and eyes, was hardly
data.
It was… privilege. Possibly a
fucking
privilege if he understood the slang correctly.

She suddenly jerked up in bed and he spun around. “What are you
doing?!
”

“I…” He suddenly found himself unable to utter the words
checking on you.
“I was watching you sleep.”

She gasped. “
Oh my
God!
What did you
see?”

“I…” Again there was no lying. “Saw your breasts.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’m…” He let out a breath of exasperation. “Want to say I’m sorry but I can’t seem to.”

“Because you’re
not sorry!
”

“That
is absolutely correct.”

She stormed out of the bed and made her way around to look at
him, holding her sheet tight. “And why
wouldn’t
you be? What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know
.” He did know if he looked at her that he’d do something worse, so he turned his head away.

“You-you come watch me, you’re not sorry, and ohhhh, now you can’t look at me.” She gasped. “And I’m just supposed to tolerate all of this?” she shrilled. “I’m supposed to be the all accommodating swamp slut host to the maleficent… hominid voyeur with the ever hard penis but not from ever touching it, are you seeing the
freaky
in this yet?” Her voice had gradually gotten higher and higher. “And for fucksake!
What is your DAMN NAME?
”

He looked at her, breathing through the need that had spiked to dangerous
levels from her anger, and now her close proximity to him in only that sheet. “Back up, Isadore. Now.”

“Back up?” She stepped closer. “Well while you’re watching my tits, Mister, I was having a
dream
about a
man
who was in dire need and God told me to
help
him!” She nodded incessantly with crazy looking wide eyes. “That’s right, I was ready to get rid of you and so I go out of my way, go the
extra mile
and pray for your sorry ass only to wake up to you watching my tits!” she screamed the last.

“You…prayed? For me?”

“What?” Like that was the stupidest of stupid questions.

“Why would you even do that?”

“Because I’m
Christian.
That’s what we do, we pray for people who need prayer and you
clearly
need it, don’t you agree?”

“So…you believe in God?” Already his disgust had reached massive levels and he couldn’t even keep the sick reaction from twisting his face.

“I said I prayed and you’re asking if I believe in God? Are you stupid, JD?”

“What?” He looked perplexed. “JD?”

“John Doe, that’s your name until you tell me your real one. Right now. And don’t tell me you don’t know it, either.”

“
What if I don’t know it?”

“Do you not know it?”

“I’m not sure what my name is.”

“Not sure?”

“Am I not speaking clearly?”

She pointed in his face. “Don’t’ get smart.”

“Isadore? If you don’t quit being this way with me, I’m going to remove your sheet and do things that will make you scream and I won’t stop until I’m done. I don’t even know what I’d do, but something tells me I’d take all the time in the world to figure that out until it’s entirely and perfectly done.”

She stood with her mouth open. “You’re threatening to
rape
me?”

“
Forcing you to pleasure until you’re screaming for it is not exactly rape.”

She gave a huge exasperated single laugh.
“Welllll aren’t you the perfect and astute virgin lover!”

Ruin
closed his eyes tight and focused the ice in his veins to push back the heat. “Just ask me to show you, and I will. I may be a virgin, a first time lover, but every second I can’t do what burns in me to do, is an eternal fucking torment.”

She gasped and when he finally looked at her for fear of her silence, she just stared at him. “You said fucking,” she whispered, dazed looking.

Ruin jerked his head at hearing a distant sound, his senses suddenly amplified. “Listen,” he whispered.

“What?
What’s—”

“Shh!”
Ruin hurried to the window and placed his hands on it. The air beyond transferred into his fingers, carrying the sound he’d heard. He glanced at Isadore, the ice inside him becoming unbearably cold.

Isadore slowly came to him, eyes wide on his face. “You’re… skin is turning white.”

“Something’s coming.”

Fear struck her and he latched his hand to her arm, jerking back at feeling how hot she was. Or cold he was.
“Don’t fear. Please.” He needed her to be calm, so he could keep control. Something said he’d need it.

“Get dressed. Now.” He turned her toward the dresser
, shoving a little. Another something said he needed to cover his tattoos and he stormed to her drawers, searching. Yanking out a pretty large looking t-shirt, he forced his body into it. “Meet me downstairs.” He hurried to ensure everything was locked down tight. But the feeling in his body said that whatever was coming was coming. And coming to him. And it seemed to call to that mysterious cold inside him. Too many mysteries to unravel.

He paced up and down the kitchen,
listening with his heightened senses, measuring the distance of what was coming. It came at a slow speed, walking. Perfectly calculated steps. Judging by the sound of the gravel in his ears, it was a tall man with a size twelve foot, bearing the weight of two-hundred twenty-seven pounds of solid muscle. Ruin discerned a discrepancy in the weight ratio and paused in his pacing. He carried something.

I
sadore came down the stairs in his peripheral vision and Ruin whispered, “He’s here.” Putting his finger to his lips, he pointed to the door.

Isadore crept to the mantle next to the wood stove and slowly retrieved her shot gun off of the rack just as
three measured knocks sounded on the wood door. She drew her brows together in puzzlement as Ruin walked to the door, holding his hand up when Isadore shook her head. He nodded to her, trying to convey he had to. He was supposed to.

The deadbolt
released with a thonk and the door opened with a deep creaking. The figure of a tall man, his front shadowed by the dense swamp night, filled the entire doorway. “I’m looking for a man.”

The hard grate of his voice certainly matched his size and Ruin couldn’t resist the compelling and foolish words, “Come in.”

The man stepped forward into the light, ducking slightly as he entered the doorway. A black wool coat brushed the floor as matching knee high boots thonked ominously against the wood planks as he moved to the center of the room.

“I’ll put on coffee.” Isadore hurried to the kitchen, taking a wide arc around the man to get there.

“Much obliged, Ms. Isadore.”

He knew her name.
Ruin closely watched the hard gray eyes that matched scraggly hair, laying in disarray on broad shoulders. Moving in a slow circle around him, Ruin didn’t miss that those eyes watched him too. “Are you carrying anything?”

A silver beard neatly covered his chin and obscured his mouth, until he smiled.
“Does it look like I’m carrying anything?”

Ruin noticed the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Are you?”

The man s
lid aside his coat and reached behind him, producing a hunk of onyx metal in the shape of a crude knife. “Only this.” In a flash, he threw the knife into the door and a light exploded into the room. Isadore screamed and things crashed to the floor, with Ruin gasping for breath on the floor.

The man walked over to him then. “Yep. You’re the one I’m looking for.” He held a hand out to Ruin and again, he was compelled to act contrary to his instinct.

Pulling him to his feet, the man pointed to Ruin’s torso. Ruin realized the t-shirt was gone and the tattoos on his body glowed white.

“Sorry it took so long,” the man mumbled, twirling his fingers over the tattoo
s like he was making a selection. “Damn Olethros are like cockroaches around here. I did my best to remain concealed,” he touched several tattoos like they were buttons, finger roaming over them, “but no guarantees I wasn’t followed. There, that should do it.” One last press on a tattoo and Ruin suddenly had exact coordinates to a location, burned into his brain like a beacon.

Ruin
stumbled back in confusion, fear, and a million questions. “What is that, what are you—“ he couldn’t seem to breathe and speak now. “What am I?”

“Woe,” the man said.

Ruin gasped, not getting him. “Do you mean whoa, or woe.”

The man stepped back with his hands on broad hips, and angled his head. “Kind of both, I guess. Now, time to take a breath. I just gave you the coordinates to y
our first assignment.” He pointed to himself. “I am Caliber Creed, Messenger of the seventh district in the third heaven. And you, are Ruin, the chosen Carnificem, and
woe
is what you’re all about, it’s your purpose. Doom and gloom.” He shot his arm out and peered down at a watch on his wrist, “And you’re late to your first party. Sorry about the mess, Ms. Isadore,” he headed to the door. “But I had to make sure he was the one.”