Butcher & Blackbird (The Ruinous Love Trilogy #1)

by Brynne Weaver

And then his lips are pressed to my neck where my pulse surges. My breath catches as the kiss lingers for a moment just long enough to etch itself into my memory for eternity.

Rowan scoffs and rolls his eyes. “No, you don’t. You drive a silver BMW 3 Series.” “Stalker.” “You’re overdue for an oil change, by the way.” “Am not.” “Liar. The car has literally been telling you Change my fucking oil, you heathen for the last three weeks.”

Love this

“You know I have not been able to eat ice cream since then?” he asks as I giggle with the onslaught of jabs. “I used to love ice cream, thankyouverymuch.”

Rowan is in his element, shining, glowing brighter than the splashes of color that shift overhead. His smile is easy, his laugh warm. His energy is infectious. Even though he’s capable of killing any one of them without remorse, he still puts people at ease, his mask infallible.

And the whole time, his gentle touch is an anchor. My lower back when we stand. My elbow or my hand when we move. And throughout dinner he continues to check in even though we’re sitting right next to one another, with a smile or a glance or a single finger that glides over the inside of my wrist.

lay a hand on Rowan’s sleeve, my mind seemingly cleaved in two, like I’m watching myself from outside

I start to retreat but Rowan catches my wrist.

“Would you like to dance? With me …?” Rowan’s momentary surprise evaporates as his attention flicks to the dance floor, a spark igniting in his eyes as his lips lift at one corner.

“Absolutely,” he says.

Just synchronicity, like we fit to one another, to the music.

I got it all wrong. It was just in my head. I was wrong about everything.

It’s the first time that I can think of when I’ve not been excited at the prospect of killing another killer. It’s just not what I expected, I guess. Not where I wanted this evening to go.

and no matter how much I want to be sucked into a void, Rowan anchors me right here.

I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.

Same???

He draws away, the would-be kiss lost to another dimension, another Butcher and Blackbird who finally collide.

“Bye, Blackbird.” “Bye, Butcher.”

Because he hates this part

With a final, defeated glance in my direction, he accepts another call and turns on his heel to stride away.

I miss you already

I miss you too Are we still on for August? No pressure if you can’t, truly. I know you have a lot going on

Blackbird…

will blow this restaurant up myself before I miss it. I’ll see you in August. And change your oil, you bloody heathen!

I want to make him suffer. Rowan releases a heavy sigh, glancing down his shoulder at me. “We’re not going for beers, are we.” “Sure we are. But after.”

Our gazes collide and my heart folds in on itself. No one has ever looked at me like this, with so much caged worry and fear. And for the first time, it’s not fear of me.

It’s fear for me.

“Rock-paper-scissors. Loser takes the front door,” I say with a dark grin.

But it certainly does give me some ideas …

At this rate, I don’t care who wins. I just want Harvey dead.

Me too girl, im getting nervous

I see Rowan, entering the living room. And then I see Harvey, stalking down the hall toward him. The blood drains from my limbs. Ice infuses my skin. “Rowan,” I whisper. I yell his name as I run from the room …

… straight into Harvey Mead’s boot.

This. Is. So. Sick. And. Twisted. SICK AND TWISTED!!!

Water pelts my throbbing face. Nausea swirls in my stomach. Blood coats my tongue. The world spins around me. Rolling. I’m rolling down a steep hill. Rolling and falling.

I open my mouth to groan Rowan’s name when a hand twists into my hair and tugs me from the comforting scent of earth and wet grass. I come face-to-face with Harvey Mead.

Im gonna throw up

And then I spit in his fuck-ugly face.

A slow grin pulls his lips back to reveal decaying teeth in a smile that’s unnervingly disconnected from the rest of his apathetic mask.

The contents of my stomach spill across the floor. It isn’t until I’ve stopped retching that it registers that I’m not alone. Someone is sobbing in the dark.

“After my father attacked us for the last time, when Lachlan and I killed him, I realized I didn’t feel what I probably should about doing something like that. Most people would feel guilt. But I felt a rush of excitement when it was happening. Accomplishment when it was over. There was peace in knowing he would never come back. And when I met someone else that reminded me of him a short while later, I realized there was nothing stopping me from doing it again. There was always a next person. Someone worse. Eventually, it became a kind of sport, to find the worst person I could and wipe them off the planet forever.”

And then I stop dead, all the world narrowing to the point of her nipple. Her pierced nipple.

Get it gurl

I think my hands have stopped moving. Can’t really be sure. I’m just staring at that little heart as my mouth goes dry and my cock goes hard as fucking stone.

That fucking smirk.

Thats like one of my favorite cliches

“Christ alive. Let me just survive the next two hours and then we’re going to have some words.”

Ooooo

Unlocked. I roll my eyes—of all people, Fionn Kane should know better.

Dont like where this is going

“Peckerhead,” I call out to the silent house. “Stop dicking around.”

“Dick this, motherfucker!”

Wtf is happening

“He just nudged you with his foot, did he? Just a love tap? You don’t need to protect this piece of shit, honey. I’ll fucking cut his balls off,”

Seriously wtf is going on

“He’s my f-fr … boy. Guy. A man-guy. I’m … with. Here.”

Shes so real for that

“He’s asking to confirm your childhood nickname.” Blood drains from my extremities as my gaze darts to Sloane. I shake my head. “No.”

This is gonna be good

“Fuck. Fine.” Both women watch me with unwavering stares, their eyebrows hiked in anticipation. “Shitflicker.” They face one another. There’s a moment of blessed silence. And then a fit of giggles.

Great. These two are going to be best friends now. Just what I need.

Its what i need for sure

“Maybe I’m Fionn’s Girl-chick, Mr. Man-guy Flick-a-shit.”

“Because I’d bend you over my knee and spank that perfect ass of yours until it glows. And then do you wanna know what I’d do?” She gives me a shaky nod. Three uneven breaths. “Yes,” she whispers. “I’d teach you a lesson about wanting. About wanting to come so badly you have to beg for it.” My cock hardens as Sloane’s blood surges against my fingertips. “And once I was sure you’d learned that lesson, I’d teach you about wanting to stop coming so badly you beg for that too.”

“You’re trembling, little bird.”