Page 55 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

Now, he had to wait. Leaning against a tree, he allowed the forest to conceal him until the right opportunity arose.

Minutes went by.

The temperature dropped. He rubbed his arms in an effort to conserve heat, although the action didn’t do much good. His teeth chattered, and his skin prickled.

He refused to let the temperature bother him. He could warm up later. Something as trivial as being cold could not force him to abandon his post. He would wait as long as necessary.

Finally, after an hour, Ryker saw his chance.

“Mind if I grab a smoke and make a call?” The shorter guard stretched his arms above his head and cracked his back. “I should check on Marie. You know how pregnant women get when they don’t hear from us.”

The other man snorted. “Yes, I remember my sister’s pregnancy. Thank all the gods, Justinian and I don’t have to worry about that.”

“Thanks, man. Be back soon.” The first guard jumped off the porch and strode into the woods away from Ryker.

As soon as his companion was gone, the second guard relaxed and leaned against the wall.

This was Ryker’s moment. He hurried to the back of the cabin and placed his dagger on the ground next to him. Though far more vigilant than the ones in the house, the guards hadn’t bothered to check the back door in the time he’d been here.

Drawing another stream of water from his palms, Ryker froze it into a pick and angled it into the lock. If this were a regular icicle, it would have snapped as soon as he put pressure on it. Thank the gods; Ryker was one of the strongest water fae in the entire Republic of Balance. His powerful magic was malleable and would serve him well in this task.

Feeding strengthening magic into his improvised tool, Ryker jiggled the pick around in the lock. They didn’t teach these kinds of tricks in the military academy, but he’d picked up a few things hanging around with Atlas.

The earth fae grew up in the streets and had several less-than-reputable, but helpful, skills. Ryker made a mental note to thank Atlas for teaching him how to pick locks when the Choosing ended.

Pressing his pointed ear against the frigid door, Ryker slowly moved his pick until the tell-tale click of locks tumbling filled his ears. “I owe you a beer, Atlas,” he murmured.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, he allowed the pick to melt back into liquid form. He rose to his feet, keeping a small sphere of water in his palm in case something awaited him on the other side.

Ryker slid the door open.

It was…

A supply closet.

“Damn.” He slipped inside, careful not to jostle the broom and mop that were haphazardly placed near the door. The confined space was dark except for the artificial yellow glow of fluorescent lighting running along the gap between the door and the floor.

Ryker dropped to his knees and ran his hands carefully down the walls. Then he felt it. A grate, roughly the size of his head, intended to allow air to flow through the cabin, was on the left side of the door. He felt his way to the edges and worked on the exposed screws with his fingers.

Thank the gods, whoever had installed the grate had done so in a lackadaisical manner. The screws were already loose, and it only took a few minutes to remove all four of them. Ryker held his breath as he pried the grate off the wall and placed it beside him.

Drawing in his shoulders, which was a feat in this small space, he contorted himself and peered through the opening.

His breath caught. Resting on a cot not far from him was a woman. She faced the door, her back to him. Like shards of sunlight, long, wavy blonde hair fell over her pillow. A brown blanket was tucked under her chin. He wasn’t certain whether she was sleeping or glaring at the front door, but she wasn’t moving.

On the other side of the room was a desk. A woman in a medical coat and pink scrubs typed on a laptop, her fingers flying over the keys. Ryker studied her briefly before determining she wasn’t an immediate threat.

Ryker’s gaze returned to the cot. Something about this woman drew him like a moth to a flame. An unexpected, pulsing need burned within him. He wanted to go to her, draw her into his arms, and never release her.

Beyond the shadow of a doubt, Ryker knew this was her.

Brynleigh de la Point.

His vampire.

They’d only known each other for a month, but it felt like a lifetime. They’d spent hours talking about everything and nothing, but this was the first time he was putting a body to her voice.

And gods, what a body it was. Ryker would be lying if he said he hadn’t frequently dreamed of Brynleigh since their first date. He’d fantasized about being alone with her. He’d thought about how he’d make her his. He would taste her mouth, then have her writhing beneath him as he licked and suckled every sensitive part of her until she shattered. Then he would claim her.

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