God dammit, I hated when he called me that. And he knew I did. That was why he insisted on doing it more.
Despite my irritation, my stomach did that little flip thing it always did when he was around. And like always, I ignored it. “If you’re so good, then help me unlock my magic.”
When his grin grew, I knew immediately I made a mistake. Sliding his hands up my arms, his fingertips caressed my bare skin until they rested on my shoulders. I tugged on my bound hands, but the knots didn’t budge.
Without a word, he slowly turned me back toward Zane.
“Ryker…” Zane said in warning with the limp tortilla drooping in his hand, but Ryker shushed him.
With his hands resting on my shoulders, and his body almost flush with mine, he asked, “Are you sure you want my help?”
I tried for a nonchalant shrug, not quite trusting my voice with the heat rolling off Ryker caressing my back. Memories of my dream spiraled up and more heat spread across my chest.
“Say it, Sloane,” he growled in my ear. “Tell me you need me.”
“I think I need a drink,” Zane muttered.
Chupey whined.
I didn’t want to hear what my demon familiar had to say about this, and Slade’s silence near the doorway somewhere behind me felt very much like disapproval. “Okay, fine. Please help me.”
Ryker’s fingers dug into my shoulder a little, the only acknowledgement that he heard me. In the next breath, his magic poured over me. Hot and wet, like melted honey, his power coated my skin until it sunk in.
Ryker must’ve given Zane some silent signal, because my buddy started smacking me in the face again with that tortilla.
“Stop him, Sloane. Stop him with your magic.” Ryker’s order dissolved into his magic and surrounded me.
Smack.
This entire situation was ridiculous.
Smack.
Why on earth was I letting this jackass help me?
Smack.
His magic might feel good but he’d totally hold this over me later.
Smack.
I didn’t want to owe him.
Smack.
I certainly didn’t want his magic penetrating me.
Smack.
With a new drive of anger and Ryker’s power to manipulate emotion amplifying my rage, I reached down and gripped my magic, throwing it out toward Zane.
“Ooo,” the demon guard said with satisfaction. “That tickles.”
I opened my eyes to find Zane’s arm frozen mid-strike, tortilla in hand. He never landed the slap. The wide grin spread across his face told me I’d successfully accomplished using my magic. Now, could I do it again, without assistance, without being completely fired up with anger? That was the real question.
“Your father could freeze a legion of demons and slaughter them before they regained control,” Ryker whispered near my ear, his breath fanning my hair and tickling my skin.
“I still don’t get why you’re helping me,” I said.