What the hell had she been thinking? Who walked into a rebel meeting not once but twice without backup? It was incredibly foolish. Brave—so fucking brave that it warmed his heart—but also life-threateningly idiotic.
He could’ve lost her.
By the Black Sands, she could’ve died, and he never would have known what happened to her.
“They could’ve killed you,” Ryker growled.
She raised a brow. “True, but they didn’t. I’m alive and in one piece.”
Unbidden, visions of his beautiful wife cut up into pieces and scattered across the Republic flashed through Ryker’s mind. Red tinged his vision, and his nails dug into his flesh. She’d been in mortal danger tonight, and he’d been in a gods-damned bureaucratic meeting.
“Why?” he asked, unable to form but the simplest of words.
Why put herself in that kind of danger? Why not tell him? For that matter, why tell him now? He had so many questions he wasn’t sure which one he was asking.
She seemed to understand, though, even if he didn’t. “For you.”
His brows knit together. “What?”
Apparently, anger greatly hampered his linguistic capabilities.
Brynleigh’s dark eyes swept over his, and for a long moment, it seemed like she wouldn’t answer.
“You need to know about the Black Night, right?” she asked.
“I… yes.” In an ideal world, they’d get ahead of the rebels and put a permanent stop to them.
She took his hand again, her fingers frighteningly small against his. “I have an in, and honestly? It’s the least I can do. I want to make amends, Ryker.”
He shook his head. “Sweetheart, you don’t need?—”
She kissed him. Their mouths slanted together, and she swallowed the rest of his words. It was a soft, gentle embrace. Hardly anything at all.
And yet, desire coursed through him like bolts of lightning.
She didn’t pull away, so he deepened their embrace. Every taste, every touch of her lips against his was heavenly. He needed her. He pressed his hardness against her stomach, and she moaned against his lips.
That lightning became a storm within him. He was tired of taking care of himself in the shower, tired of waking up hard and in need, tired of not having her in his arms. Yet, he didn’t want to push her too fast. He wouldn’t risk breaking them again.
“Let me do this for you, Ry,” she murmured against his mouth. “I want to see this situation with the rebels through.”
He was just a fae. How was he supposed to argue when a gorgeous female was pressed against him?
Raising his hand, he broke their kiss and ran his knuckles down her cheek. “What am I going to do with you, little vampire?”
Who knew having a wife would be so much work? Every moment of every day, he worried about her.
“I don’t know,” Brynleigh whispered, pressing her cheek into his palm.
He bent his head, his forehead brushing against hers.
“I worry about you endlessly,” he whispered. “Every time the sun rises, I wonder if this will be our last day together before it all ends.”
She fisted his shirt and held him close.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ry.” She looked up at him, black eyes wide as she held his gaze and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I promise.”
“And yet you put yourself in danger tonight,” he reminded her. “You could’ve been killed. I would’ve lost you.”