Page 30 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

By the Sands, he wished he knew.

“I lost someone,” she whispered. “And this is… it’s the…”

Her voice trailed off, but he had heard enough. Ryker recognized the grief in her voice, the depth of hurt, the old wounds. He was deeply familiar with the kind of pain that rooted itself so deeply within oneself that there was nothing one could do except live with it.

“The anniversary?” he guessed, wishing he was wrong. Hoping he was wrong.

More silence.

He returned to his hammock, letting his head fall into his hands.

Eventually, she sighed, “Yes.”

He rubbed his temples. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

She drew in a shuddering breath. “Me too. I’m so fucking sorry. I wish… they should still be here.”

“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he offered.

Sometimes, when the Stillness got worse, talking about his dad helped. Reliving old memories or sharing something simple. On other days, words were impossible. Grief stole them from him, and he could barely get out of bed, let alone talk.

He would do whatever Brynleigh needed.

Another long moment passed before she said, “Can we be quiet?”

Her request was soft, and it went straight to his heart. He wished he could see her. Hold her. Embrace her until her grief passed. But he couldn’t.

This, though, he could do. “Of course.”

The rest of the date went by in contemplative, heavy silence.

That night, when Ryker went to bed, he realized there had been a comfort he’d never experienced before, even in that quiet. He hated that Brynleigh was hurting, hated that she’d gone through an entire day of dates with grief in her heart, but she’d opened up to him. Shared it with him.

And that made him feel… good.

CHAPTER 9

More Than She’d Bargained For

Red, puffy eyes stared back at Brynleigh in the mirror. She hadn’t slept last night. She hadn’t done anything after her dates except go to her room and cry. Once they had started, the tears had flowed and flowed and flowed.

She’d never cried on this day before. Never shed a single fucking tear.

It was him. The captain. His presence here. He was doing things to her. Twisting her up. She could feel it—even her shadows were responding to him.

When she woke up yesterday, she knew it would be a bad day. Her heart had been heavy, and she’d wanted to do nothing more than stay in bed all day and grieve.

Six years had passed since that fateful midsummer storm. Six years of being utterly and completely alone. Seventy-two months. Two thousand, one hundred and ninety days since she’d said goodbye to her family.

He’d stolen them from her.

After their date, where she’d revealed something she never wanted to reveal—not to him or anyone—she ran back to her room and wept. She hadn’t known it was possible to have so many tears, hadn’t known grief could slam into her like an unmovable wall and crush her.

She’d skipped dinner, forgoing nutrition in favor of sitting on the floor of her shower fully clothed.

Hours had passed, and even with her vampire blood, Brynleigh had been a freezing, frigid mess by the time her door creaked open. Hallie had cautiously poked her head into the bathroom and frowned.

“I Saw that you might want this,” the Fortune Elf had murmured, holding out a bag of blood in Brynleigh’s direction. “Let me know if you need anything.”

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