But I wouldn’t let him use me that way, and I wouldn’t use him.
I couldn’t. Not when—
“I love Bren,” I blurted.
It took all of one second for him to register the statement.
Then, before I could do little more than gasp, he whirled us around. We were halfway across the room and nearing the hallway when I realized where he was taking me. Fear drained the blood from my face.
“Ryker, no.” I pried at his fingers on my arm. They were cemented in place. We were only a few steps from our destination now. I peered into the inky darkness, a wall of panic bearing down on my chest. “Ryker. No.”
I was about to start fighting in earnest when he grabbed both my arms and pressed me against the wall. I jerked a knee up, but he anticipated the move and I struck his outer thigh instead.
“Lune, stop. Stop,” he hissed. “I would never hurt you like that.”
“Why else would you be dragging me into a dark room, huh?” I yelled. “You’re mad that I’m not giving in to your charms or whatever, so now you’ll force yourself on me.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back. I’d never seen Ryker so angry. My returning glare shriveled up, and I struggled not to cower. His fiery gaze quickly shifted to the wall beside me. “I am not my father,” he said, his voice deathly quiet. “I will never be like him.”
I stilled and waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I broke the tense silence. “Then why—?”
He held up a hand. “I’ll tell you once we’re on the other side of that door. Not a moment sooner. If you want answers, you’ll have to trust me with your honor.”
The urge to sass bubbled up. The need to remind him that he’d given me no reason to trust him. Besides, if he didn’t trust anyone, then trusting him was probably stupid. He had released me from that cell though and promised to let me see Bren. I had to hope that there was more to this than becoming his intended mate. “Fine. But if you make a move on me while we’re in there, you can say goodbye to your jewels.”
The anger on his face faded to confusion, but he stepped back anyway, allowing me to enter the room on my own. I rolled my eyes. How chivalrous. When the door sealed shut behind us with a soft click, the room plunged into darkness. I readied for his attack. None came.
A switch flicked on. Near the bed, an ancient-looking lamp made of multi-colored glass illuminated Ryker’s expression. It was back to being unreadable. “I’m not going to touch you,” he said. Then added, “Unless you allow it.”
“Fine,” I replied curtly, crossing my arms. Ryker’s attention drifted to my legs. Crap! I lunged for the pants still draped over the bed and tugged them on. They must be his, judging by the material pooling at my feet. I tied the waist string as tight as I could, placing hands on my hips in case the pants slid off. “Now start talking.”
He gestured around the room. “It’s soundproof in here, a precaution I made several years ago. Our kind has keen hearing, and I’m not the only one living in this apartment building. Spouting your undying love for the clan’s number one traitor could ruin everything we’re trying to do.”
Okay, that made sense. “Why did you kiss me?” I was done with vague responses. Either he told me the truth or I was going to take matters into my own hands.
“Proclaiming you as my intended mate was the only way I could think of to prove my renewed allegiance to the clan. But they needed to see the genuineness of my claim, and what better way than public affection? The boss has every reason to doubt my loyalty. When things went south a few years back, I left for Tatum City shortly afterward without explanation. He thought I’d chosen a new alpha, forsaking his legacy—like Bren did. I’m lucky he didn’t throw me in a cell too.”
I squinted at him, trying to figure out his angle. “Is that why you handed Bren over to him? To gain back his trust?”
“That’s one of the reasons. Yes.”
“How come it didn’t work then?”
“Because he thinks we’re secretly conspiring together.”
“Are you?”
Ryker snorted. “Hardly. Bren hates me.”
“Why?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw and the floor received his undivided attention.
“Ryker, just tell me. If you want me to cooperate, this is the price. Answers.”
“I can’t tell you everything.”
“Why not?”
He looked at me, his stare hard. “Because I don’t trust you.”
I gave him a hard look of my own. “That makes two of us. But if we’re going to get out of this craphole, we have to.”
He huffed his annoyance but didn’t disagree. In fact, I was struck mute when he opened his mouth and said, “Bren blames me for what happened to his sister three years ago. I transferred her to a new location in the city for safekeeping, but a few clansmen with a vendetta against Bren found her while I was away. They—”
He heaved a sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing Bren caught her scent when he did. He found her at the house several minutes before I did. By the time I got there, Bren had already set his plan of escape into motion. Blood was everywhere. Broken furniture. I thought the clansmen were trying to kill them both. Not thinking, I told him to take his sister and run.”
Ryker’s face pinched, as if the memory pained him. Perhaps angered him, too. “While I killed the three men for crimes they hadn’t actually committed, Bren ran. But I didn’t expect him to leave the city for good, and I never saw Isabella again after that. It’s why the boss still doesn’t trust me. She was my responsibility and I lost her. Therefore, he lost Bren, his greatest asset. At first, he thought I’d killed them and hidden their bodies. Now he thinks I helped orchestrate their escape. On top of that, most of the clan is still ticked off at me for killing those three men and wouldn’t mind putting a bullet in my head.”
Deafening silence settled between us. I couldn’t speak, not when my brain was so busy putting the pieces together. He must have brought Bells to that white house we’d holed up in on the outskirts of Asheville. Bren must have told Jaxon and the others at Blue Ridge Sector that Ryker was the boss’s son, which explained why he’d been locked up and questioned. Did Bells know he was at The Ridge for two months? And if Rollie had been using her to blackmail Bren into doing his dirty work, then why had Ryker been allowed to move her?
The pieces clicked into place.
Oh. Oh.
“Holy crap,” I whispered. My eyes flew wide. “Did you choose Bren’s sister as your intended mate?” Holy. Crap. “Wha—How old was she? Like . . . twelve?”
Gross.
Ryker had the audacity to roll his eyes at me. As if I were being dramatic! “She was almost fourteen. And think of it more as a betrothal. A promise. We hadn’t completed the bonding ritual though, so technically, I had no claim on her. Plus, the men were jealous of Bren’s standing with the boss. When they found Isabella unprotected for the first time in eight years . . . Well, use your imagination.”
Stars, I didn’t want to use my imagination. No wonder Bren, who so desperately tried to protect his sister, was so mad at Ryker. At the same time, I knew the feeling was mutual. Did Ryker actually care about Bells?
I plopped onto the bed. What a messed up situation. I was about to ask him if Bells had been forced into this “betrothal” when I remembered something she’d told me. I can’t help but be drawn to the tortured soul types though. They feel everything so intensely under all that dark brooding.
No way. Had she been referring to Ryker? And then I was laughing. Loudly. Deep belly chuckles. I fell back onto the mattress, clutching at my stomach. It was so screwed up that I found the whole thing hilarious. When I was able to pry open my watery eyes again, an irate Ryker was hovering over me.
Oops.
“I’m sorry,” I wheezed. “I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with—” I sat up and cleared my throat, struggling for control. “Ne
ver mind. Um, so can you take me to Bren now?” I winced. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that question so soon after laughing in his face.
“No.”
Great. Now he was going to punish me for—
“We have to do the tattoo first. That way the boss won’t question your intentions if you’re found in restricted areas. Hopefully not, anyway. And the men will think twice about bothering you. It was . . . it was smart thinking, offering to accept our clan’s mark.”
I fiddled with the bed’s musty blanket as guilt pricked at me for some reason. Maybe because I wasn’t used to being the deceiver. “I’m not accepting your clan’s mark. Not really,” I admitted. “I’m accepting my own.” Telling him the truth about it was the least I could do after everything he’d told me. And I still planned on prying many more answers out of him before we left this city.
When he didn’t respond, the urge to peek at his face almost strangled me. Instead, I jumped up, feigning excitement. “So, what lucky person gets to jab a needle into my flesh? Can’t wait.” Crap. Needles. Needles! Maybe I couldn’t do this after all.
“Me.”
“You?” I squeaked. I tried to swallow and failed. A delusional part of me had assumed the clan’s doctor would do it. Had thought anyone, anyone but Ryker would. Because the thought of him so close to me after all we’d done . . .
Smart thinking, indeed.
I finally managed to swallow. “Fine, let’s get this over with. So—” I waved a hand around like an awkward idiot. “Where will this torture session take place?”
“Here.”
“Here?” I blinked at him dumbly.
He gestured at the bed. “Have a seat. Soundproof room, remember? This way no one will hear if you scream.” With that, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me to gape like a stupid fish. Was this payback for laughing at him? Because it was good. He came back with a small kit and unrolled the contents on the bed. A shallow dish, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls and cloths, a jar of black ink, a box of matches, and . . . needles.
I looked away, inhaling slowly to steady my heartbeat, but it was too late. My pulse was soaring through the roof.
“You sure you want to do this?”
I nodded, crossing my arms, then quickly uncrossed them. “Just don’t make it too big.”
“Where do you want it?”
Oh. I probably should have thought about that. Heat warmed my face. The tattoo needed to be in a location Ryker could reach without removing any of my clothes. A crazy idea popped into my head. I shoved it away, but it only came back, persistent and decisive. My delusional mind was officially broken.
Here goes nothing.
“Can you . . . can you tattoo over a scar?” I picked at my nails to distract myself from the needles winking in my peripheral.
“Yes. I’ve done it several times.”
Right. He had at least ten tattoos scattered over his body—and maybe more that I hadn’t seen. Any number of them could be hiding the countless scars on his torso and back. I dragged in a breath and spoke my request before I could lose the nerve. “Then I want it right here, directly over the C shape.” I pulled back my hair from the left side of my face, revealing the scar Catanna had given me.
I almost bolted from the room when he blurted, “Your face? You want a tattoo on your face? I wouldn’t even go that far.”
“Oh, that’s good to know, thanks,” I deadpanned. “Anyway, a mark I purposefully choose is preferable to one I had no control over.”
Whoa. Where had that come from?
Apparently, Ryker was just as shocked. And, ah crap, why was he staring at me like that? Like he completely understood and couldn’t believe I felt the same. Okay, this was getting awkward really fast.
I sat on the bed, careful not to send the needles rolling my way. “Okay, so inside the crescent moon shape, could you add star constellations? Should I draw it for you or something?” Not that I could draw.
“No, I’ve got this.” He came around and sat to my left. Reaching toward my face, he paused, silently asking for permission to touch me. Surprised that he kept his word, I nodded without rolling my eyes. He tucked the hair behind my ear, inspecting the scar on my temple. Tension thrummed through me. If he noticed my stiff posture, he didn’t let on. He also didn’t shy away from touching me now that I’d given him permission.
We were alone. On a bed. And my emotions were still heightened and confused.
Stars above, this was the worst idea I’d ever had.
I flinched as he disinfected my skin, the sharp bite of rubbing alcohol stinging my nose. Silence settled between us—the very uncomfortable kind. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to sketch the tattoo’s shape over my scar, only a couple inches in height and width. Rollie and his men should have no problem spotting the mark, though. If I tied my hair back, the tattoo would stand out nicely against my pale skin.
What came next was a blur. A flash of needle. A spark of flame. A swirl of ink. Blue, black-rimmed eyes steadily focused on the needle tip dangerously close to my—
“Wait! Wait, wait.” I leaned a safe distance from the needle, waving it away. Ryker had the audacity to look annoyed. “How badly will this hurt?”
“Bad,” he said without inflection.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, that’s so comforting.”
“I’ve reached my empathy level for the day. There’s not much room for it in my DNA.”
“That’s interesting. Bren’s a Sensor too and he’s plenty empathetic.”
He scowled. “Don’t start comparing me to Bren. You’ll be sorely disappointed.”
“I’m not. I just don’t think you should use your mutated genes as an excuse to be a jerk.”
His eyes narrowed in warning, and I bit the inside of my cheek. I really shouldn’t be antagonizing him right now. “You know nothing about me,” he said, quiet anger in his tone.
“You’re right, I don’t. Just like you don’t know much about me, only what you’ve observed.”
“Apparently.” He paused, slowly cocking his head in that dog-like way of his. “Why did you allow me to kiss you?”
My jaw slackened. Really? Really? Was he going to press that sore spot until he got what he wanted? What did he want anyway? “First, promise to tell me why you brought Bren here instead of directly heading back to Tatum City, and how you plan to leave this place.”
“I promise.”
I raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“I promise to tell you right after you tell me about the kiss,” he amended.
Ugh!
“Fine. At first I allowed it because I’ll do anything to see Bren again. But then I allowed it because . . .” Heat rolled up my neck as the truth settled into my bones. Crap. This was going to suck. Better to just rip it off like a bandaid. “I allowed the kiss because I’m reckless and drawn to dangerous things. You’re like a shot of adrenaline, and for a moment, I gave in to the temptation. I wanted to feel something besides pain. But . . . but you’re bad for me, Ryker Jones. And I’m bad for you.”
And now I needed to crawl beneath the bed and burrow under the floorboards.
This was the perfect time for him to use my confession of weakness against me. If he was looking for revenge against Bren, all he had to do was press the issue. Maybe I’d stay strong . . . but maybe I wouldn’t. My mask was paper thin, my walls even thinner. I had always thought fear was my biggest weakness, but maybe I had an even greater one.
I shot off the bed, but Ryker’s hand was already around mine, keeping me from running. “I—I can’t,” I stammered. “This is not—”
He tugged me down to the mattress again. I sat, my back ramrod straight, my stomach tied into knots. He reached for my chin. Instead of turning my head toward him though, he faced it forward. “Hold still,” he simply said.
Then poked the needle through my skin.
I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip as hot pain spiked through my temple. When the needle retreated, I sucked in a ra
gged breath, thoughts of kissing Ryker long gone. I swore loudly. He snickered. Now I wanted to punch him. “Holy crap, that majorly sucked.”
He shrugged, then poked me again. “Enduring pain is better than feeling dead inside. At least this way, you know you’re still alive.”
I frowned, surprised to hear him share something so deep. But when he dug the needle in again, I refrained from commenting. The crescent moon shape could easily become a shriveled banana if I moved around too much.
“From the start, my mission was to hand Bren over to the Recruiter Clan if I suspected his loyalty was compromised,” he said, surprising me once more. “I almost didn’t when I saw what was in his backpack, but something didn’t add up. That map drawing I’d been given led me straight to his location, which can only mean one of two things: He works for that place under the mountain, or he’s a double agent and they found out. Which still doesn’t explain why someone wanted me to take you and leave, but either way, I wasn’t going to let him return to Tatum City. There’s too much at stake.”
When he paused to wipe the blood and excess ink from my temple, I quickly interjected. “What’s at stake? What was in his backpack?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
I pursed my lips, grappling with some not-so-nice words. “Let me guess, Renold’s orders?”
“Yes.”
“Why does he keep me in the dark about everything?”
“At first, I thought it was because he didn’t trust you, but now I think it goes deeper than that. I think it involves what you can do, and the power you’d have over him with that kind of information.” His fingers directed my chin to face him. When our eyes met, he said, “Since I’m being so accommodating and answering your questions, how about you tell me what else you can do besides track Bren?”
“Tell me your plan for leaving this place first,” I shot back, raising my brows in challenge. The action tugged at my fresh wound and I grimaced.
He shook his head and sighed, but without the regular annoyance. “Let me finish the tattoo and get you in to see Bren first. If we make it back without getting locked up ourselves, then I’ll entrust you with my most guarded secret in exchange for yours.”
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