Ruin (Rhodes #1) by Rina Kent

                             She’s asleep now, unaware of what has befallen upon her. I cleaned and bandaged her forehead wound when I carried her into the dungeons. A cube-like room with faint yellow light, controlled by a remote switch.

                             Her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, drawing my attention to her delicate form. She’s so pale, it’s almost inhuman. I would probably bruise her if I touch her the wrong way.

                             To my surprise, and utter confusion, that’s not what I want right now.

                             Do I even know what I want?

                             ‘Sure you do. Kill the damn girl, Aaron.’

                             ‘Her blood would look exotic against that skin.’

                             ‘You still didn’t give us blood in case you have forgotten.’

                             ‘Do it, Aaron. Snatch the life out of her. Cut the arteries of her neck, then—’

                             A soft moan interrupts the demons’ schemes. I sink back into the shadows of the dusty corner, thankful for the distraction.

                             Mae raises shaky hands to her forehead. Her fingertips brush against the bandage and she winces. Most likely due to a hangover, since her injury is a mere scratch.

                             She cracks her eyes open and uses her elbows to get up, but her body fails her. With an exaggerated groan, she closes her eyes and collapses back on the metallic bed with clean sheets.

                             Once again, the dungeon room is submerged in total silence. Only the faint sound of our breathing echoes.

                             Her eyes shoot open and she sits in bed, with ease this time. She looks down on herself and releases a puff of air. Then, she scans the dimly lit room with a haunted look, like she’s expecting a monster to pop out any second.

                             Placing one hand in my trousers’ pocket, I push out of the corner, granting her what she’s searching.

                             Mae’s movements freeze. Her mouth hangs open and her pupils dilate, decreasing their blueness. She swallows and stares at me for what seems like hours, assessing every inch of me. All the while, her fists clench the mattress’s material.

                             It’s visible. The realisation that she no longer has her princess-like life and bright entourage. That her dreams are substituted by a dungeon and me.

                             Typical reaction.

                             You see them struggle to make out the reality of things. Then, they resort to bargaining with their little heads, trying to draw a magical escape. When that doesn’t work, their world shatters to bloody pieces. Their beliefs scatter all around them and their minds bombard with ‘why me?’ and ‘who is he?’

                             It’s wonderful.

                             Their reactions make my heartbeat rush. My hand yearns to plunge a knife into their skin. Listen to the sound of steel infiltrating the fresh. Feel tendons rip under my grip. Watch blood pool around them as life leaves their eyes.

                             Until now.

                             Do I really want the blueness of her eyes to fade away?