Page 111 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

Space. That’s what she needed. Space to breathe. To recover. To just… be away from all this.

“Of course.” He smiled and pointed down the hall. “First door on the right.”

Brynleigh thanked him and hurried down the corridor. She didn’t slow down to look at the pictures on the walls. She slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Gods, there was even a blacked-out window in here, right above the tub. Was there no escaping Ryker’s kindness?

Closing her eyes, Brynleigh leaned against the bathroom door and released her shadows. They’d been thrumming incessantly in her veins since the incident in the car. As soon as she permitted them to slip from her hands, they whipped out of her violently, darkening the room until the night surrounded her.

Breathe. She forced her lungs to take in air.

Inhale. Exhale.

So, Ryker had a huge, cuddly dog that he seemed to love. That didn’t inherently mean he wasn’t evil. Even bad men could care about dogs. She’d probably be more concerned if he didn’t like animals. What kind of psychopath didn’t care about pets?

And the windows. Admittedly, the unexpected gesture was nice, but Ryker was still the same man who’d called down a tempest and drowned everyone she knew. He was still a cold-blooded killer.

Brynleigh twisted the necklace her parents had given her on her eighteenth birthday. It was a constant reminder of their loss. Right now, she desperately needed that reminder.

Opening her eyes, she met her reflection’s gaze in the mirror. “They’re gone because of him,” she hissed, careful to keep her voice low. “Pull yourself together.”

Captain Ryker Waterborn put on a good show, but he was still the cause of all her heartbreak. He still deserved to die.

The front door clicked open, and two male voices murmured. Claws scratched on the floor. A bark.

Atlas was back with Marlowe.

Turning on the tap, Brynleigh splashed her face with cold water. The frigid temperature was good for her. It helped snap her back to reality.

She was a doubly blessed vampire, for Isvana’s sake. She thrived on blood and darkness and shadows. She wouldn’t let something as trivial as a few considerate, kind gestures deter her from her goal. Gripping the countertop, Brynleigh hardened her eyes and glared at herself.

“You are strong and will not crack,” she told herself sternly. “Remember why you’re here. Respect your boundaries, and you’ll be fine.”

Confident in her renewed ability to keep emotions out of this, Brynleigh rejoined the others.

She could do this.

Fuck.

She couldn’t do this.

By the time the clock struck four in the afternoon, and they were set to leave Marlowe behind in Atlas’s capable hands, Brynleigh was a ball of nerves.

At least those emotions, she could keep. There was nothing wrong with nerves. Thank the gods they were safe because she had many of them. Apprehension gnawed at her stomach, eating her up from the inside out. It was those damned tendrils of doubt. They had exploded within her and were now a tangle of knots.

Brynleigh had always assumed that the Ryker she got to know during the Choosing was an act. A show he put on to attract a wife.

No one could actually be that good of a guy, right?

Except it didn’t seem to be an act. Atlas shared story after story about his friend, even after Ryker asked him to stop, and though the words varied, the theme was the same. Ryker had saved Atlas from a life on the streets, giving him a home when he had none. Ryker had backed Atlas up when someone from his past came calling for blood.

Ryker did this. Ryker did that. Story after story painted the captain in the same light: he didn’t seem to have a bad bone in his body.

And that was just… not fair.

Not fair at all.

And Marlowe? The big dog had leaped on Brynleigh the moment she’d left the bathroom, and he’d been glued to her side ever since. He was the sweetest animal, cuddling beside her on the couch and placing his head in her lap as she absentmindedly petted him.

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