Page 79 of Burning Daylight
There’s movement to the side, next to the brick columns that house the entry gate, and it’s only then I notice there’s another person with them. He’s wearing all black, hidden in the shadows of the setting sun as if he doesn’twantto be seen. He’s got what looks like an unlit joint in his mouth, and he’s flipping a lighter on and off, the flame lighting up his face just enough to make out some of his features.
Icy blue eyes: ones currently fixed on me.
My heart stumbles, and my stomach flips.
Ryder.
I step in closer, because surely I’m seeing things, but Paxton grips my arm and holds me back.
“Ow,” I complain, glaring at him. “What’s your problem?”
Paxton shakes his head. “Nothing for you?—”
“Little Rose.”
The air stutters and mutates, like it bends for Ryder’s voice alone.
He’s off the brick pillar now, walking directly in front of Lance. I don’t miss the way Rosalie’s eyes follow him with a wistful glaze.
Ryder smirks, looking at me. “Having a party and didn’t invite me? I’m hurt.”
“Who the fuck areyou?” Lance interjects, moving until he’s shielding me better, his body taut.
Paxton’s grip on my arm tightens. “Why is he calling you that?”
I don’t answer him. Ican’t, because I’m too busy staring at Ryder.
What is he doing here? And with people like Benjamin Voltaire?
He’s here, I think again. And he doesn’t look surprised to see me.
Which means he knew who I was.
He knew.
And didn’t tell me.
The realization is like ice sliding down my spine, chilling me from the inside out. Every touch, every flirtatious word, every moment of stolen intimacy feels like a trap now.
Ryder’s eyes flash, and he doesn’t so much as glance at Lance. “Welcome home.”
A strange, weightless sensation hits my stomach, like when I miss a step on the stairs and think I’m about to fall.
His voice is calm and a touch flirty, like we’re stillus.
But we’re not.
I guess, really, we never were.
Paxton leans down and whispers sharply, “Do you know him?”
Before I can reply, Lance’s voice cuts in. “Don’t talk to my sister. In fact, don’t evenlookat her.”
“Lance, we don’t want any problems,” Rosalie finally says, moving to stand next to Ryder. “You know as well as I do that I was invited here. They’re just my guests.”
“Bullshit,” Lance snaps. “If you didn’t want problems, you wouldn’t be with them at all, Rosalie, let alone at our front gates. Let’s not be willfully obtuse.”
I rip myself from Paxton’s hold, ignoring the way it makes my forearm burn, my focus still on Ryder.
