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Chapter Twenty-Two: The Motel
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2025-12-13 22:37:09
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The Sound Of Ruin Chapter Twenty-Five: The Rooftops
I did not follow her inside. Not with mortal eyes on her, not with laughter spilling over the doorway like a net I refused to walk into. Instead I took the heights—the roof of the bar, the black edge of brick and rain-slick stone. Up here, I could see everything: the glow of neon painting her hair when she leaned too close to her friends, the curve of her mouth around a glass, the flicker of her pulse at her throat when she thought herself hidden in shadow.She believed she had slipped from me when Marianne called her back. She believed the noise of music and mortals could drown me out. But I was above her, and every beat of her heart carried up into my bones. Even across distance, I felt it. Even when she laughed too loudly, even when she danced to forget, the rhythm was mine.A man brushed her hip. He didn’t even know the danger of the act, but I did. My claws bit into the ledge until stone cracked. I held myself still—barely. Her friends pulled her back before I could tear him from
The Sound Of Ruin Chapter Twenty-Four: Ink and Ash
The moment I stepped inside the archive building, the air felt different. Too clean, too ordinary, like it wanted to scrub away what still clung to my skin. I tried to let it. I tried to breathe like I hadn’t just walked through the rain with him at my side, like I hadn’t felt his hand on my throat when I told him no, like I hadn’t admitted I wanted him even while I hated him for it.The receptionist said something I didn’t catch. I mumbled a greeting, dropped my bag on the counter, and hurried past. My body moved out of habit—unlock the records room, stack the boxes, smooth the papers—but everything felt foreign, like my own hands didn’t belong to me anymore. They still remembered him, even here, surrounded by ink and dust.I shut the door behind me and pressed my back against it, sliding down until I sat on the cold floor. My pulse was wild in my throat, my breath uneven. I pressed my palms hard over my face as if I could push him out that way, force him back into stone and shadow w
The Sound Of Ruin Chapter Twenty-Three: Hunger’s Echo
She lay wrecked beneath me, sobbing against the stale sheets, but still clinging, still taking. My seed leaked warm around me, her body milking every drop as if she wanted proof she couldn’t wash away. Two thousand years of restraint and ruin, and somehow she made me feel as if I had only just begun.I didn’t pull out this time. I stayed buried, grinding slow circles that made her twitch and gasp, keeping her full because I could not stand the thought of emptying her without owning the absence too. My hand cupped her throat, not squeezing, only feeling the wild flutter of her pulse—a mortal rhythm that should have disgusted me but only made me harder.The chamber reeked of us, sweat and sex overlaying the sour air of the rented den. If anyone walked past, they’d hear it—the broken breaths, the low growl in my chest, the ruin of a woman who had invited me in every way that mattered. Let them hear. Let them know she was mine.And yet, as her heartbeat slowed under my palm, the hunger in
The Sound Of Ruin Chapter Twenty-Two: The Motel
The motel bed sagged under us, the sheets scratchy, the air conditioner rattling in the corner like it was dying. I didn’t care. My body was still trembling from the shower, every nerve rung out and bruised. He lay flat on his back, chest rising and falling like something that had run too far, too hard. I sprawled across him, my cheek pressed to his skin, listening to a heartbeat that wasn’t mine but thundered like it could be.For a long while, neither of us spoke. The water still dripped from my hair onto him, streaking his chest in little rivers. He didn’t seem to notice. His arm was around me, heavy, possessive, but there was a looseness to him I’d never felt before, as if exhaustion had pried his claws open just a little.“Tell me,” I whispered, tracing a scar across his ribs with the tip of my finger. “Who are you really? Not the monster you keep throwing at me. You. The man. Where you came from. How old you are.”His body went still under me, breath caught. I tilted my head up
The Sound Of Ruin Chapter Twenty-One: The Door
We left Willow House in silence, but not in distance. For the first time, I did not trail her like a shadow—I walked at her side. Our steps matched, her smaller stride forcing me to shorten mine, and still it felt unnatural, dangerous, like pretending I belonged in her world of lit streets and quiet houses. She didn’t look at me often, but when she did, her eyes held the storm we had left behind in the archives, the fire and fury that hadn’t gone out. I wore the echoes of it in my chest, each glance from her a fresh brand.The city hushed around us, emptied by night. I could hear her heart with every block we passed, steady but slower than it had been—still weakened, still mine. I didn’t like how fragile it sounded, and I liked even less how much I wanted to break it all over again.When we reached her door, she turned to me. Her hand hovered near the frame, lips parting on the words I knew were coming. Invite me in. I felt the air shift, the old rule stirring, ready to bend if she ga
The Sound Of Ruin Chapter Twenty: Bruises and Defiance
The first thing I noticed when I woke again was the ache. It was everywhere—my thighs, my throat, the deep pull in my core where he had been. Bruises bloomed under my skin like fingerprints of fire, and every breath reminded me I had been emptied and filled until there was nothing left but him.The second thing I noticed was the bed. Willow House was supposed to be my workplace, not a ruin of bloodstains and sweat. My catalog notes and notebooks were still stacked neatly in the next room, waiting for a woman who no longer felt like me to finish them. I had come here to archive history. Instead, I had written a new one with my body.He had already risen, pacing near the tall windows like he was measuring the light for threat. The sight of him there, bare-chested, his mouth still pink where my blood had stained it, made my pulse stutter between fear and hunger. He turned at the sound of me shifting, eyes narrowing like he expected me to collapse.“I’m not glass,” I said hoarsely, though
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