Page 68 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

The longer Brynleigh looked at the image, the angrier she got. Her shadows vibrated in her veins, red seeped into her vision, and she clenched her fists.

This emotion, this bone-deep anger, she kept. It was safe. Good, even. It wouldn’t hurt her or break her heart.

Brynleigh let the anger grow until it was all she felt. She would not fail. She hated Ryker Waterborn for what he did, and he deserved what was coming to him.

Eventually, Brynleigh glanced at the clock. Over half an hour had passed, and she needed to finish getting dressed. She carefully refolded the picture and slipped it into her bag.

Rummaging through her things, she found the perfect dress. It was tight and hugged her curves in all the right ways. The sleeves were long, and the scoop neckline allowed her pendant to settle freely between her breasts. The hem fell midway down her thighs. She slipped on black heels and stepped into the bathroom to admire her handiwork.

Brynleigh tilted her head, her gaze assessing. A beautiful, deadly vampire smiled back at her. Her hair tumbled over her left shoulder. Black eyes stared back at her. Red lips highlighted her fangs.

All vampires were almost painfully beautiful—it was one of their gifts from the goddess of the moon—but the spark in Brynleigh’s eyes had nothing to do with her beauty and everything to do with her impending revenge.

Crossing her legs, Brynleigh tapped the air with her foot. When it was time for Brynleigh’s date, Matron Lilith had been waiting for her with Harper, one of the guards. He’d blindfolded Brynleigh before leading her to this room.

That was ten minutes ago.

Most vampires were patient, but that wasn’t a skill Brynleigh excelled at. As a human, she’d never been good at waiting. That trait had carried over into her vampiric life.

Matron Lilith had handed Brynleigh a glass of blood wine before she left. Brynleigh sipped it now, letting the stillness of the room settle around her. She wasn’t sure what their date would be, but she was certain Ryker had put a lot of thought into it.

If there was one thing Brynleigh knew for certain after a month of nearly daily conversations with the captain, the fae didn’t do anything halfway.

Neither did she.

It was fitting. He truly was a worthy opponent in the game she was playing. Too bad he would have to lose.

Two heavy sets of footsteps came from the hallway.

Brynleigh tilted her head in the direction of the sound. The blindfold amplified her other already strong senses. Their heartbeats were steady, rhythmic drums in their chests as they approached, beating nearly twice as fast as hers.

The door creaked open, the hinges proclaiming their need for oil to the world.

Brynleigh moved gingerly, feeling for a space on the table for her wine before letting go. When it didn’t spill, she exhaled and turned her head towards the entrance.

“Right this way, Captain.” She recognized Harper’s voice.

Her spine tingled, and her shadows flared within her. Ryker was here.

If his scent had been a mighty river on the day he sneaked into the infirmary, tonight, it was an Isvana-damned tsunami. There was no barrier between them. No wall to protect her from him. No AI to filter his voice.

The flimsy black blindfold was the only thing keeping her from experiencing all of him. It was hardly anything at all.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she flushed.

An adverse reaction to his presence. That’s what that was.

More emotions had the gall to rise within Brynleigh. She struggled to rein them in. She didn’t give herself time to think about what they were or what they meant before she pushed them down. It was far more difficult than before. Nearly impossible.

Ryker smelled so fucking good. So right. So delicious.

There wasn’t a single part of Brynleigh that didn’t light up at the familiar aroma. Her skin prickled. Her shadows sang. Her eyes widened beneath the blindfold. And her fangs.

Her goddess-damned fangs.

Had she thought they ached when she first heard his voice? This was a hundred times worse than that. Now they were twin flames, burning in her gums. An overwhelming urge to leap from her seat and sink her fangs into his neck coursed through her. She gripped the table, the wood cracking beneath her touch.

Under no circumstances could Brynleigh ever taste Ryker.

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