Page 69 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

Fuck, this was bad.

She shoved those illicit emotions and that awful desire she had no business feeling deep, deep, deep within her soul.

Brynleigh could do this. She’d once called herself a master of compartmentalization. She could keep everything separate and make it to their wedding night.

This was all an act. Like a masterful fisherwoman, Brynleigh was luring Ryker in. She was the predator and the bait. That must be why she felt like this. She was just very good fucking bait. Too good, if the twisting in her core and the dampness between her thighs were any sign.

Brynleigh’s body was just… reacting to Ryker’s. That was to be expected, right? She was a vampire, and he was a fae with a delectable scent, so naturally, she wanted to devour him.

It didn’t mean anything.

Saying the words was one thing. Convincing herself they were true was another matter entirely.

Brynleigh pictured her sister in her mind and held her there as she drew a series of deep breaths. By the third exhale, she felt more normal. Or at least, less… drawn to Ryker.

She could do this.

For her family.

For her revenge.

For herself.

The guard was still in the room. Brynleigh sensed the man behind her, but his masculine scent did nothing for her. Unlike Ryker’s.

You can end this now, a voice niggled at the back of Brynleigh’s mind. Get it over with.

She could do it. She was certainly strong enough to overpower two men. But that wasn’t the plan. If she acted now, she’d have no chance of escaping. No shot at freedom. Brynleigh was certain Jelisette would be displeased if she acted out of line.

Patience was key. She couldn’t throw away years of planning because the captain smelled good.

That would be completely and utterly ridiculous.

Killing Ryker on their wedding night would send a message to his family and all Representatives: the way they flaunted the Republic’s laws and acted without consequence had gone on long enough.

She had to stick to the plan, meaning she had to get out of her head and focus on the fae in front of her. Her mark.

Brynleigh reached out, intent on grabbing her glass of blood wine when her index finger grazed something warm.

She froze. Her heart stopped beating. Her lungs seized. Her shadows became ice in her veins.

They were touching.

And it…

Gods damn it all, but it did not feel bad. It did not feel like she was touching the man who murdered her family.

It felt like…

Home.

Brynleigh’s head swam as lightheadedness threatened to pull her under.

This was…

It was…

Too much.

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