Page 104 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

Watching his sister wrestle with the burden of her magic pained Ryker. He helped as much as he could, but he knew River struggled with the weight of her gods-given gifts. Her piercings, her fashion choices, and even her attitude towards their mother were all ways of coping with the hand she’d been dealt.

River’s phone rang, the upbeat, boisterous pop tune shattering the silence. Ryker didn’t recognize the song. Moments like these reminded him that nearly two decades separated the two of them.

River glanced at the screen before shoving her phone in her pocket. The heaviness from a few moments ago dissolved as River stood on her tiptoes and kissed Ryker’s cheek. “Got to go; my ride’s here. See you at dinner.”

She bent to pick up her suitcases, but Ryker grabbed them before she could. What kind of man would he be if he let his little sister carry her own bags out of the hotel? “Go on, I’ve got them.”

River grinned and grabbed her purse—black, like the rest of her outfit—before holding the door for him. She chattered as they rode the elevator to the main floor, explaining more about the new drug their father was on.

The captain helped his sister into the taxi and loaded the suitcases in the back. She smiled as she closed the door, opening the window to shout one final reminder to come to dinner tonight.

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Ryker strolled into The Lily. He felt lighter than he had in years. His sister was happy and safe; her magic wasn’t causing any problems, and tonight, he would introduce Brynleigh to the family.

What could go wrong?

One of the first lessons Ryker had learned as a youngling was that staring was rude, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Brynleigh sat beside him in the car, silently gazing out the window, and his eyes were locked on her.

His bride-to-be was stunning. Like him, she was dressed casually. Unlike him, she looked like she’d walked off the pages of a magazine.

She wore an oversized maroon sweater that fell to mid-thigh and black leggings that hugged her legs. There were two slits in her sweater, which he assumed was an accommodation for her wings, although they weren’t visible. Her chin rested on her hand as she looked out the blackened car window. Her blonde hair hung over her shoulders, and she wore a minimal amount of makeup.

He couldn’t believe she was marrying him. She was a goddess of the night, and he was… himself. Barely worthy of being in her presence. Gods, he loved this woman. Now that he had said the words, he couldn’t seem to stop.

Ryker held Brynleigh’s other hand, and he rubbed his thumb over the back of her palm. She hadn’t spoken much since he’d helped her into the darkened vehicle half an hour ago. The silence didn’t bother him. He was at ease in Brynleigh’s presence, and the quiet lacked all traces of awkwardness. It was companionable, peaceful, and everything he had hoped for.

Davis, the driver Ryker’s mother insisted on paying for, had picked the couple up in The Lily’s underground parking garage to avoid the sun. Admittedly, it would take time for Ryker to get used to staying out of the sun, but he was willing to do whatever it took to keep Brynleigh in his life. If she asked him to become fully nocturnal, he would do it. He certainly wouldn’t be the first person in history to alter his lifestyle for vampires.

Besides, what was a bit of change when the person you were changing for was your whole world?

And Brynleigh was Ryker’s entire world. In the six weeks since they met, she’d catapulted into the first-place position in his life. He couldn’t imagine living without her. Watching her bleeding out on the ballroom floor had solidified how important she was to him.

Brynleigh was meant to be Ryker’s. There was something so profoundly right about the two of them. Their connection was deep and wasn’t built on superficial things like appearances. He had the Choosing to thank for that.

He felt like he knew everything about Brynleigh. Her likes and dislikes. Things she missed (the sun, no surprise there) and things she enjoyed doing (playing chess.) He knew her birth family was dead, although she never spoke of what happened to them, and her Maker was her only real connection to the world.

He hoped she would come to see his family as her own.

Ryker had many dreams for the future, and they all revolved around the blonde vampire beside him.

The car slowed, and the familiar sights of Ryker’s neighbourhood came into view. He tugged Brynleigh’s hand. “We’re here, sweetheart.”

The car stopped in front of a ten-story apartment building complex surrounded by flourishing gardens.

Brynleigh looked out the window, then back at Ryker. “This is your home?”

“Our home,” he corrected softly, squeezing her hand. “Or at least, it can be if you like it. If not, I’m sure we can find something else. It’s just… this is a good location. We’re halfway to the base and halfway to my family home. But if you want to move, we’ll move. We can do whatever you want after we’re married.”

Something dark flickered in Brynleigh’s eyes. It was too quick for Ryker to be certain, but he could have sworn he glimpsed intense longing and regret in her black gaze. But that couldn’t be right. It was gone before he could decipher it.

“How long have you lived here?” She looked back at the apartment complex, but her grip tightened on his hand.

“Just over a decade.”

He’d moved here after his Maturation, eager to have his own place. Tertia had protested, of course. She wasn’t delighted by the idea of her son, a future Representative of the Fae, living in such “downtrodden” conditions. He hadn’t given in. He needed his privacy.

Besides, it wasn’t like Ryker lived in a shack. His one-bedroom apartment was nice and clean, and he could afford it on his military salary without dipping into the family coffers. It was in a good part of Golden City but not in the luxurious neighborhood where his parents lived.

Even though Tertia was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and believed everyone in her family should live in a mansion filled with servants, Ryker disagreed. He didn’t hate how he grew up—on the contrary, he’d had a good childhood—but he loved his apartment. This, and his hunting cabin, were his safe spaces.

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