Page 95 of Reaper's Ruin
My back hit the wall, and Rhyker’s body pressed against mine, sheltering me from view. In an instant, the world narrowed to the points where our bodies touched—his chest against mine, his thigh between my legs, his breath warm against my hair.
“Don’t move,” he whispered as the guard approached, his lips accidentally brushing the edge of my ear.
A shiver ran through me, having nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way his powerful body felt against mine. I was dizzy with his closeness, with the scent of him—something dark and male that made my pulse race.
My hands rested against his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady but slightly faster than normal. Was he affected by our proximity too? Or was it just the adrenaline of our mission?
The guard passed, oblivious to our presence in the darkness, but Rhyker remained frozen, his body still pressing mine into the wall. I looked up at him, our faces inches apart, and found his eyes locked on mine, dark with an intensity that made my breath catch.
For an endless moment, neither of us moved. I was afraid to breathe, afraid to break whatever spell had fallen over us. The air between us felt charged, electric with possibility.
“Rhyker,” I breathed, my voice barely audible. “The guard is gone.”
He blinked, as if coming out of a trance, then stepped back with visible reluctance. I immediately missed his warmth, the solid strength of him against me.
We continued on, only to repeat the torturous process twice more. Each time we hid together, pressed into dark corners of the hallway, the tension between us grew more unbearable. His hands lingered longer on my waist. My fingers curled more tightly in the fabric of his jacket. His eyes held mine for heartbeats longer than necessary.
By the time we reached Lord Cassius’s chambers, I was half-convinced that if we had to hide in one more dark corner together, one of us would snap and, we’d end up banging against a wall with no cares in the world of who saw us or that we’d likely get tossed in the dungeon when we got caught sneaking into the royal corridor.
Part of me thought it would be worth it to finally,finally,get to feel the full force of that powerful man.
But somehow I managed to stop myself from assaulting him with my tongue again, and we reached the ornate door marked with Lord Cassius’s personal crest—a lightning bolt crossed with a sword.
Rhyker quickly picked the lock then pulled me inside, closing the door silently behind us, and locking it again. The chamber was dark save for the faint glow of embers in the hearth, but my eyes gradually adjusted to reveal a space dripping with opulence—plush carpets, ornate furniture, and walls adorned with tapestries depicting Storm Court victories.
“Wow,” I whispered, taking in the luxury surrounding us. “Somebody likes to live large.”
My murderer. My murderer likes to live large. And possibly my father.
It felt strange standing in his space.
“Focus,” Rhyker reminded me, his voice a low rumble in the darkness. “We need to find that list.”
I nodded, pushing aside my distraction. We moved methodically through the sitting room, checking bookshelves and cabinets while being careful to leave everything exactly as we found it. I ran my fingers along ornate carvings, searching for hidden compartments, for anything that might conceal a secret document.
Rhyker crossed to a massive desk at the far end of the room, his movements silent and purposeful as he examined its drawers and edges.
I bumped into a small table concealed in a shadow.
“Careful!” Rhyker snapped at me.
That was it. I’d had it with the hot and the cold, the kind and the cruel. I planted my hands on my hips, sighing as my frustration built. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or are we just going to keep pretending everything’s fine?”
He didn’t look up from his search. “I’m not pretending anything.”
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice. “Because you’ve been acting strange since the moment Lord Destan approached me. You looked like you wanted to tear his arm off when he’d touched me.”
“He was being inappropriately familiar.”
“He was being polite. It’s what people do here.” I paused, then added more softly, “Were you jealous?”
His hands stilled for a fraction of a second before resuming their methodical search. “What? No. Of course not.”
“Then why are you so angry right now?”
“I’m not angry.”
“Your face says otherwise.” I moved closer, noticing how his shoulders tensed at my approach. “Is it because I’m half-fae? Is that what’s bothering you? Because ever since Elira mentioned it, you’ve been even more distant than usual.”
