Page 128 of Ravaged Devotion

The one-year anniversary of the day they’d escaped from the resort was coming up. The press was all over the story, rehashing details of how a gas leak had taken out some of the planet’s most influential businessmen. Pictures of the burned remains of the building, as well as photos of the deceased—including his mother and Ryker’s father—took up practically every news station.

No one ever mentioned Bowie. As far as the world was concerned, he’d died in the explosion along with everyone else, just a poor university student with his future cut short.

“Don’t make a decision like that for anyone else,” Ryker said. “If you don’t want to go, we won’t. It’s as simple as that.”

It really was, which was something Rue was still getting used to.

“We weren’t close,” Rue sighed, “but she was still my mom.”

“Okay.” Ryker rested his chin on the top of Rue’s head.

“That’s it?”

He shrugged.

“Do you want to go?” Rue asked.

“It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other,” Ryker replied. “No matter where I’m standing, Rhys Hart is still dead to me.” He let go and then eased Rue into one of the office chairs. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.” Not that Rue was opposed to a topic change. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Marriage?” Ryker stood next to him, seemingly not in a rush to dig in the way Rue was.

The Black Hart had been correct. Whenever he felt anxious, Rue tended to stress eat.

“Oh, who’s getting married?” Rue stabbed a small sausage with his fork and brought it to his lips. It shouldn’t matter if he started before the others arrived.

“We are.”

He choked.

Ryker quickly grabbed one of the water bottles on the table and twisted it open, bringing it to Rue’s mouth.

After a sip, he frantically wiped his lips off on his sleeve and swiveled in the chair to better face the Black Hart. “Can you repeat that?”

“I’m telling you we’re getting married,” Ryker said.

“You’re asking me that now?”

“First of all,” he leaned in, setting a palm at either side of Rue, blocking him in, “I’m not asking. That implies you have the opportunity to reject me, which you do not. Second of all, seeing as how you’ve been the one clearing out the fridge and jumping me the second I walk through the door every night this past week, now seems like the perfect time.”

There was no point in denying it, because Rue had in fact been doing those things.

Sometimes, when he thought back on what they’d experienced in the lodge, he was filled with an overwhelming surge of energy, and the only way to rid himself of it was by getting his boyfriend to pound it out of him.

With his cock.

Ryker must have noticed things had gotten worse the closer to the anniversary they came.

Of course he had. He always noticed everything about Rue, half the time sooner than Rue did himself.

“My therapist says using sex as escapism isn’t healthy,” Rue said.

“Your therapist is correct.” Ryker nipped the tip of his nose playfully, laughing when Rue pulled back and glared. “But I don’t mind. Use my body whenever you need. That’s the perk of being my fiancé.”

“Made me your fiancé pretty quick,” Rue drawled. “You’re seriously not going to ask me? Not even for the sake of being romantic?”

Ryker tilted his head. “I just told you I’ll fuck you whenever you want me to. That isn’t romantic enough for you?”