“I’ll die without it, okay?”
With a snap, he straightened, blanking his expression. “Who cursed you?”
His words were soft, quiet, almost gentle—if anything about Ryker could ever be described in such a way. But his tone didn’t match the anger and promise flashing in his gaze. Why did I get the feeling he planned to hunt down and hurt anyone I named?
I stepped back involuntarily. His fingers dug into my arms and held me in place.
“Who, Sloane?”
“My mom and dad, I guess,” I answered. There was no harm in naming them. Ryker couldn’t hurt them, wherever they were. “If I don’t embrace my demon nature fully and take the throne, it will destroy my human side and kill me.”
“You don’t—” Ryker snapped his mouth shut. He blinked at me long enough for me to consider using force to free myself from this awkwardness. With a silent shake of his head, he relaxed his hold on my arm, and a slow smile tugged at his lips. “You better buckle up and prepare yourself then. I don’t plan to let your sob story sway me from taking what’s mine.”
“It’s not a sob story. It’s the truth.”
“If you say so.”