Page 12 of Ravaged Devotion

Hated that his father seemed to have forgotten all about Ryder and was so obviously fitting Rue to take his place.

“I hate you.” Ryker hated himself more.

The day they lost Ryder and Uriel, Rue was meant to be there. He was meant to be the game monitor, but for some reason he’d been absent. Doctors had confirmed there was nothing he could have done even if he had been there watching, and Rue’s running off to Tulniri without a word had been explained away by a psychologist as unnecessary guilt.

The situation had been tied off with a pretty, and convenient, bow, but that wasn’t even the problem.

The issue wasn’t how questionable the whole ordeal was.

It was that Ryker didn’t care if it was true or not.

At the core of his being, where he was the most honest, he was forced to acknowledge that whether or not Rue had anything to do with Ryder’s situation was irrelevant.

He wasn’t hurt that Rue may have doomed his brother to a fate worse than death.

He was hurt that Rue had left him. Not his brother. Him.

Ryker was pathetic and he couldn’t be.

Harts weren’t weak.

They weren’t—

Rue sighed in his sleep, a full body exhale that had the muscles in his back shifting a second before he very obviously ground his hips down into the mattress, seeking friction.

The man was still unconscious, had no clue what was happening over him, and yet whatever he was dreaming of, it was making him horny.

Ryker blew his load, aiming low and painting Rue in splatters of opaque white. He hissed as his hot come squirted between those firm cheeks, dripped down to coat Rue’s balls. His hand continued to jerk himself until he’d wrung every last drop, ensuring he’d effectively created a wet, sticky mess over Rue’s backside, between his thighs, and over the sheets.

He released himself and removed his multi-slate—the body borne communication device that doubled as a computer—from his wrist, angling the rectangular device upright as he focused Rue’s form in the camera.

The flash was on, momentarily illuminating the scene, causing the drying come to glisten, and the picture was added to the hidden folder where he’d previously stored the rest. His own personal spank bank to get him through the next few weeks before they reconvened here for another forced family weekend together.

This room had always belonged to Rue.

But now it wasn’t just Rue’s room.

It was Ryker’s stepbrother’s room.

Maybe there really wasn’t anything Rue could have done to prevent what happened to Ryder. Maybe there was. But this? Their new titles? Their new familial ties?

“You ruin everything.” Ryker got off the bed, grabbed the comforter and tossed it back over Rue’s come-covered body. Then he tucked himself back into his pants and made his way to the door.

Rue ruined everything.

But he could never know he’d ruined Ryker as well.

* * *

The last weekend of every month, the offspring were summoned home. Appearances, and all that jazz. At first, Ryker had hated it. Despised coming and going at his father’s leisure like a dog. Was disgusted knowing he’d need to share a table with Rue and pretend they were one big happy family.

But as soon as he’d started coming all over him in his sleep, his reluctance had vanished.

Ryker hummed a tune as he waited at the breakfast table, his father at one end, step mother at the other. He flicked through a few news articles on his multi-slate as he sipped at his coffee, barely registering any of the words.

He’d spent two nights dirtying Rue’s body, and was eager to see the fruits of his labor. Even his father’s rigid disposition and Eulalie’s high-pitched giggling couldn’t ruin his good mood.

The second he heard footsteps from down the hall his heart skipped a beat, then started thumping wildly in his chest. It took all of his willpower not to glance expectantly at the doorway, to keep his eyes locked on the small screen of his device, his hand steady around the handle of his cup.