Ruin Me
The bus came to a halt, the dense forest surrounding the resort whispering secrets in the evening wind. Anya stepped out, pulling her jacket tighter around her. The trip was supposed to be fun—laughter, games, and bonfire nights. But none of that mattered. Not when he was here.
Kian.
The one boy who unsettled her. The one who watched her like she was a puzzle he’d already solved. His presence was an unspoken threat, a promise of something dangerously tempting.
“Careful, Anya. The night belongs to the hunters,” Kian murmured beside her, his voice dripping with something dark.
She turned sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He smirked, stepping closer. “You’re smart enough to figure that out.”
His fingers brushed against hers for the briefest second before he walked ahead, leaving her breathless.
---
Night fell.
The bonfire crackled, laughter echoing in the open field, but Anya wasn’t paying attention. She needed space, air—anything to escape the way Kian’s gaze kept burning into her.
She wandered deeper into the woods, the music fading behind her. The cold air sent shivers down her spine, but she refused to turn back.
Until she heard footsteps.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She wasn’t alone.
“Leaving the party so soon, little dove?”
Kian.
She turned, her breath hitching as he stepped out of the shadows. Moonlight cast sharp angles on his face, making him look almost otherworldly.
“You’re following me?”
He chuckled, low and dark. “You walked into my territory. I’m just… claiming what’s mine.”
Her pulse spiked. “I’m not yours.”
He closed the distance between them in one swift move, his fingers grazing her jaw. “Aren’t you?”
His touch was fire against her cold skin. She should’ve pushed him away, should’ve said something cutting—but she couldn’t. She was trapped in his gravity, in the way his thumb traced her lower lip, in the intensity of his gaze.
“You drive me insane, Anya,” he whispered, tilting her chin up. “You think I don’t notice the way you look at me? Like you’re scared of what you feel?”
“I don’t—”
“Liar.” His breath ghosted over her lips, teasing, taunting. “Tell me to stop.”
Silence.
Anya should’ve said it. Stop. But the word never came.
Kian took her silence as permission. His lips crashed onto hers—raw, demanding, desperate. She gasped, but he swallowed the sound, pressing her against the rough bark of a tree. His hands framed her face like she was something fragile, even as his kiss told a different story.
Possession. Obsession. A hunger that had been caged for too long.
Anya’s fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. He groaned against her lips, his hands sliding down to her waist, gripping like he was afraid she’d disappear.
“I shouldn’t want you like this,” he muttered against her skin, his lips trailing down her jaw.
“But you do,” she whispered, nails digging into his shoulders.
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own filled with something dangerously close to devotion. “I do.”
A part of her knew this was wrong—too dark, too intense, too inevitable. But another part of her?
She wanted to get lost in him.
And as Kian pressed another feverish kiss against her lips, claiming her in the dark, she knew she already was..
