It wasn’t even ten.
“Damn,” he grumbled.
Every part of him ached, protesting each small movement. He felt worse than before.
At some point around dawn, Ryker had collapsed on the lumpy couch that had seen better days in the living room, giving in to his body’s need to rest. He’d fallen into nightmares the likes of which he hadn’t experienced for many years.
Ignoring his body’s protests, he flung himself off the couch and landed on his feet. Military training kicked in, and he forced himself to be alert as he approached the door.
Calling magic to the palm of his right hand, he pulled back the curtain covering the square window on the door with his left and peered outside.
One of Ryker’s two best friends, Nikhail Galebringer, stood on the porch. The air fae’s amber gaze met Ryker’s, and Nikhail’s crisp black business suit was discordant with their forestedsurroundings. A blue cooler sat at his feet, and a small box was on top.
Ryker wasn’t surprised by Nikhail’s formal attire. His friend only had one look: business.
Relieved to see a familiar, friendly face after the hell that had been yesterday, Ryker exhaled and released his hold on his magic. The water disappeared as though it had never been there, and he unlocked the door.
“Morning, Nik,” he rasped, his voice rough from sleep.
The air fae’s gaze crawled over Ryker’s rumpled T-shirt and jeans, and he frowned. “Fuck, man, you look like shit.”
Trust Nikhail to always point out the obvious. The man was many things, and subtle was not one of them.
“Thanks for pointing it out.” Ryker scrubbed a hand over the scruff on his face and added shaving to the long list of things he should do today. He picked up the items off the porch and invited Nikhail into the small house.
The air fae’s gaze flitted around the bungalow. To anyone else, his attention would’ve come across as simple curiosity, but Ryker knew Nikhail was cataloging every detail and storing them in case he needed them later.
“She’s in the bedroom?” Nikhail asked, following Ryker on silent fae feet.
Sometimes, it seemed like Nik’s feet didn’t even touch the ground, as if he walked on the air itself.
That’s what made him so good at his job.
Placing the cooler on the kitchen island, Ryker tucked the box in his back pocket. “Yeah. She’s still asleep.”
Knowing amber eyes roved over him for a long moment before Nikhail dipped his head.
“I’m sorry, Ryker.” Truth. No fae could lie, whether they were water, earth, fire, or air fae. “That this is… that it happened this way.”
Nikhail was the only person in Ryker’s life who knew the complete, unedited truth of what had occurred on Ryker’swedding night. The rest of the world, including Ryker’s family and the other Choosing participants, had been fed a carefully constructed web of half-truths. Not lies but crafted, palpable versions of the events that had taken place.
Some thought Brynleigh had fallen ill after their wedding. True. Others thought the newlyweds were on a trip. Also true, but instead of honeymooning in the Northern Region as they’d planned, Brynleigh had taken a trip to The Pit.
That familiar, angry fire burned through Ryker’s veins. Punching the wall probably wouldn’t solve any of his problems, but he had the urge to introduce his fist to the drywall, just to see if it helped.
Instead, he clutched the counter.
“Me too.”
The words were short and clipped, but what else could he say? That he was sorry he’d been duped? Sorry he was living in his own personal hell, which seemed to be worsening by the day? Sorry his wife had wanted to kill him, and now he was stuck working with her because he’d made a deal to get her out of prison?
The problem was, he wasn’t even sorry he’d Chosen her.
Angry, yes. Sorry? No.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
The world did not contain enough words to properly convey how incredibly awful this situation had become.