Page 9 of A Story of Sinners

“There you are. I’ve been waiting,” a deep, male voice said, and I tensed.

I slowly turned to face the source of that husky voice and groaned. My mind had conjured Ryken nearly every time I dreamt, and the sight of him felt like a punch to the gut. I never knew the right words to say, so I ignored him each time.

That damned bite mark wouldn’t let me rest without thoughts of him.

“Still refusing to speak with me, I see.” Ryken sat down next to me and crossed his legs, leaning against the tree. His arm brushed against mine, and it felt so real, so tangible. “That’s all right. We can enjoy the scenery again. We don’t need to talk.”

All these nights, all these dreams, and I still couldn’t figure out how to address the ghost of him. Should I rage? Should I cry? Should I simply enjoy his false presence and allow myself to die in his arms?

I didn’t know.

I was ignorant to how the mate bond worked, but I understood it was very much real. The constant, uncontrollable yearning was proof enough.

It was a strange thing to feel the loss of something I never had in the first place, but there was nothing to lose, not anymore. So, after all the nights of ignoring my minds machinations, I finally met his gaze.

My eyes watered at the sight of him, a crown of silver leaves entwined with gold thorns lay nestled over his slicked back, silver hair. Gone were the black leathers and hood. Instead, he wore a blue and black jacket, accented with silver swirls. His arms and hands were free of weapons, as if fighting was no longer necessary.

A faint smile crossed my face. I’d been so angry when he left, but all of that seemed so far away. I wanted him to know peace because I never would.

His eyebrows drew together when he noted my expression, and his silver eyes hazed over, heartbreak in his eyes.

But Ryken was the true heartbreaker.

Dream Ryken gripped my hand and cradled my face, the feel of his touch so incredibly realistic, I had to pinch my leg. “What’s wrong? Why do you look so…lost? What happened?”

There was no point in ignoring him anymore, as he was simply a figment of my imagination. Though I hated to admit it, after all the wrongs he’d committed—all the wrongs I’d committed—spending my final moments with him felt right. So, I leaned into his touch, absorbing his warmth.

When I finally spoke my voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. “Everything. Everything happened. Everything wrong that you could possibly imagine. It’s my fault, all my fault.”

He swallowed and caressed my jaw. My eyes squeezed shut at his touch, wishing more than anything that this moment was real—but it wasn’t real.Hewasn’t real.

I shook some sense into myself and pulled away.

“Tell me,” he begged. “What happened?”

“There’s no point. Just leave, Ryken. I think I deserve these last moments of peace without being haunted by the memory of you.” I tilted my head and watched the clouds as they passed overhead. Yet, he remained. “Please go.”

The sound of his steady breathing persisted as he refused to grant my wish. A moment of silence stretched between us as the clouds danced overhead, and then his voice came out darker, deeper than before. “What do you mean by your ‘last moments’?”

My eyes squeezed shut. Warmth pressed over top of me, and my eyes opened of their own accord. He was crouched over me, his gaze locked onto mine. “I’m coming for you. I’ll be there soon. Whatever it is you’re going through, just hold on.”

“I wish,” I sighed, reaching up to touch his face. It was odd that his skin felt so real—so warm—when this was just a dream. A soft smile graced my lips.

“It’s too late, Ryken. By the time you get here, I’ll be dead and gone.”

His eyes darkened, and he gripped me tight, as if he could tear me from my dream.

I snorted at the thought, and his eyebrows furrowed. My mate—the true Ryken—would probably never care half as much. My fingers brushed against his cheek. “Consider this our farewell, Dream Ryken.”

The thudding of footsteps charging down the stairwell tore me from my dream, and my senses automatically went on high alert. Nobody ventured down into this cold pit of a dungeon, at least not anymore. My eyes scanned the darkness, and my body tensed as the glowing light of a bouncing torch burned against my pupils.

Someone was here, and it wasn’t Redmond—he would have whistled as a warning.

The torch dipped along each sconce, lighting them one at a time, and my vision went wild, blinded by the fire.

Someone was finally here to kill me.

The footsteps halted at the bars in front of me, and I peered into the blinding light, striving to see past the flames. The grating of metal on metal shifted before my cage, indicating armor. A soldier of Cambriel.

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