Page 52 of Ravaged Devotion

Told him that his one-sided crush on Ryker Hart had to come to an end once and for all, because they were about to be brothers.

For years since, a part of Rue had hated her. Resented her.

And now she was dead.

Worse than dead. She’d been torn apart by—

Good Light. He didn’t even know what.

His mother was dead, and Rue didn’t have the first clue what the culprit was. Calling that thing a bear was too plain. Bears didn’t smell like rotting flesh, or ooze, or have naked skulls and empty eye sockets.

Monsters on the other hand…

Or maybe it was a demonic entity.

A ghost.

Light knew the people here had done enough evil in their lifetimes to warrant such a haunting.

Eulalie Vadim had hardly been a saint, but she hadn’t deserved that. Not her. She’d been a neglectful mother, and a vicious corporate heir who’d climbed the ladder to get to the position she was in today, but she wasn’t merciless or outwardly cruel.

Not like Darae Corvina or the Smiths.

Rue was too caught up in his head to notice when his clothes were carefully stripped off, only starting to surface when his body registered the water pouring from the faucet, slowly filling the basin, was icy.

“Breathe,” a soft voice whispered next to his ear, and Rue realized there was someone else in the tub with him. One arm around his waist, a hand massaging his nape. The other person was fully clothed, their legs up around Rue, so the larger body supported his from the sides and the back.

He lifted his head, sucking in a deep breath, and blinked past the tears. Everything was cloudy, and he couldn’t focus, giving up on trying. Cold water lapped at his skin, at mid-shin and rising, and he shivered, the almost stinging sensation cutting through more of his dark thoughts.

The image of his mother slowly began to fade as he was forced to process the physical feel of the icy water. The way it stung and made his muscles tense. His teeth began to chatter, shoulders caving inward even more, even when the hand on the back of his head moved into view to shut the tap off.

They sat like that for a long moment, Rue still crying, though not nearly as intensely, and then he found himself eased backward, until he was resting over the other person’s chest.

Blinking through tears, he caught sight of the underside of the man’s chin.

“Ryker.”

The Black Hart didn’t respond, free hand sweeping down Rue’s chest, until his fingers found the patch of curly hairs above his dick. He tugged on them lightly, hushing Rue when he let out a gasp.

“What are you doing?” Rue frowned. “Don’t.”

“Focus,” Ryker spoke softly, palm slipping lower.

“Don’t.” It shouldn’t be possible for him to get turned on in this situation, and yet Rue’s head tipped back the second those fingers wrapped around his root, tight and warm against the freezing water.

Ryker stroked him languidly, transferring the heat of his skin down Rue’s length, then back again. He worked him until Rue’s dick was solid, flushed crown curved slightly upward, his hips lifting with the motions just enough to cause the water to splash around them.

The Black Hart pulled the plug on the drain and then resituated so he could reach around Rue with his other arm as well, his left hand finding his balls. He cupped them and rolled them gently as he went back to jerking him off, his breaths coming in quick bursts against the side of Rue’s face.

He could feel Ryker’s hard-on pressed against his lower spine, as well as the outline of his zipper. The man’s wet clothing stuck to both of them in places, but he made no moves to undress, resting all of his attention on taking care of Rue.

And he was.

Taking care of him.

Distracting him.

Ensuring Rue’s mind couldn’t function long enough to conjure those horrendous images, not with the cold and the pleasure zapping his nerves in equal measure.