Page 25 of Last Ride of the Umbra Fae

“Well, I guess I’m not the only evildoer around here.”

“You know what they said back in the good ol’ days: every evil queen needs a consort.” He pulled out a chair and playfully dusted off the seat as if shining it for me.

I scoffed. “Are you trying to butter me up?” I arched my brow.

“Yes.” He did not hesitate. It caught me off guard so much that it was likely obvious I was blushing.

“Your knife or mine?” He wiggled his brows in a way that had me giggling.

I pulled out my knife and served us a slice. I was just finishing my second piece when I bit something hard that nearly cracked my tooth. “What the fuck?” I rushed into the washroom, spitting out what was left in my mouth and immersing my hand into a small basin of water. I swished it around until something solid struck the bottom.

“You have to be kidding me,” I paused. My jaw hung open as the water revealed a ring; a silver band with a piece of our Eternal stone smoothed into the shape of a circle, its swirls of amber and bloodstone glinting in the light.

I walked out in pure silence.

“What is it?” Ryder slowly stood and walked toward me.

“I don’t think Molly was a widow. She was about to beproposed to.”

“Well I guess that explains why he was all fancied up,” Ryder said. A laugh rumbled in his chest as we stood outside thewashroom, staring at each other wide-eyed. He cupped a tanned hand over his mouth and then combed it through his hair. In unison, we erupted in laughter. My brows hit my hairline, still in disbelief.

“You are quite evil, Ryder.” I sat in the chair, eyeing the circular stone. As I looked, something started to take shape. The amber formed a crescent moon while the bloodstone emulated the dark side of it.

I hummed.

“Wait here,” I said. I felt his curious stare as I rummaged through my bag. When I sat in front of him, his eyes remained on the thin leather string I held in my hands, still following my every move. I hung it over his neck, measuring out the length until it stopped at the center of his chest, right between those sinful, hardened pecs. I ignored what the sight did to me as I pulled my knife out and cut the string, threading it through the band.

“Can I?”

“Now you suddenly have manners?” he playfully asked. “You may do anything you want to me, Desert Storm. Your imagination is the limit.” His husky voice sent my pulse thrumming. Again, he’d caught me off guard.

The ends of his dark, tousled hair gently brushed against the side of his neck as his head tipped back, watching me slowly rise with a lust-filled gaze. Licking my lower lip, I leaned closer. He tensed as I stood caged between his muscled thighs, the slight motion sending my heart fluttering.

I swallowed.

His thighs brushed against my hips, hard and sturdy from years of riding.

His fists clenched, the rough skin squeezing together as if he was stopping his hands from roaming. His breath fanned across my chest, dangerously close to where my heart lay. Withvery little effort, he slipped through the cracks while a warmth ignited deep below my belly, eliciting an ache between my thighs. As I tied the new necklace around his neck, I felt the cords in his muscles tighten and flex some more.

He looked down at the ring and held it in his hand.

“A little something to remember me by when your job is done.”

His smile waned into something unreadable—maybe sadness?

“Thank you,” was all he said. Words that sounded foreign on his lips.

“Since when are you a polite gentleman?” It was a loaded question.

“Who said I am?” His voice was sultry and full of smoke.

I leaned back slightly so our eyes met. My gaze swept across his beautiful face and that half grin. I finished tying the string, now hyperaware of what I had elicited within him. There was no time to hesitate; the flames were already ablaze in his eyes. I became the moth, drawn to him, wanting to lose myself in the entirety of who he was. To push aside the resistance I held between us. I wanted to know what it felt like to have his tongue trace the seam of my lips, to know if he would be rough, or soft and gentle. Maybe this whole tough-guy appearance was a façade. I wanted to break through because the curiosity was stronger than the desire to keep him at a distance.

The urgency for his embrace was like stepping into an overturned hourglass. Time was running out. I couldn’t place these emotions surging through me as I stared into his pale-blue eyes, watching the shadows lurking beneath his own hidden past. We were always on some sort of borrowed time. In this moment, I didn’t want to think about it any longer. I swung my leg over his hip, then the other, straddling him like I was ready to ride as the anticipation sent my body thrumming.

“Have you ever kissed the devil?” Ryder said, tilting his head back to meet my gaze.

The center of my chest skittered at his words, like the end of a blade along my mark, eliciting the umbra in challenge.

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