Was that what one said when complimenting a killing?
From a cleanliness perspective, Brynleigh remained surprisinglyblood-free. A red streak swept across the back of her hands, but other than that, even her braid was still in place.
She fanned out her wings, which were also spotless. Sliding her phone out of her back pocket, she snapped a picture and sent a text.
“Now what?” Ryker stared at the dead man, his stomach churning. “The body…”
Black, unconcerned eyes met his. “We leave him. He’s no longer our problem.”
Ryker hated the frigidness in her voice. He balled his fists, but before he could speak, Brynleigh’s phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen. “Jelisette is sending a clean-up team. I’m to report to her tomorrow night to debrief.”
She talked about this like it was a normal job with normal tasks and consequences.
But it wasn’t.
Ryker Waterborn, son of the Representative of the Fae, was officially an accomplice to cold-blooded murder. He wasn’t sure it would matter to the courts that the Earth Elf had been an evil man.
There was no going back now.
His only hope—their only hope—was that Brynleigh would uncover useful information about the Black Night.
Neither of them spoke as she extended her hand between them in a silent request. With one last glance at the body, he laced his fingers through her bloody ones, the red speckles a reminder that they were in this together.
Brynleigh drew on her shadows, and then, the Rosewood disappeared.
Ryker’s stomachspun as they traveled through the Void, making him eternally grateful that he hadn’t eaten in several hours. He closed his eyes, hoping that blocking the blackness would help calm his stomach.
It didn’t.
Every second dragged on, feeling endless, until his feet met solid ground once more. The porch light shone through the trees, and the moon glowed above them.
He swayed, legs trembling, and he removed his fingers from Brynleigh’s. Bile rose in his throat, his body protesting their form of travel, but he forced himself to keep it down. Throwing up was a sign of weakness, and he hadn’t done it in years. He had no intention of starting tonight.
Putting his hands on his knees, Ryker bent in half, dropped his head, and closed his eyes. He forced his lungs to draw breath and let the fresh forest air ground him.
Each inhalation helped, and soon, he felt more like himself.
Several minutes passed before the forest floor rustled in front of him.
Ryker opened his eyes to find that Brynleigh had moved.
She stood a few feet away with her hand outstretched as though she’d been about to touch him. The vampire chewed on her bottom lip, the action sending a bolt of want through Ryker.
Gods, he’d never wished he was a lip more than he did at that moment.
Concern filled her eyes. “Are you… Did I… Was it the body?”
The coldness in her voice had thawed, leaving behind traces of the vampire he’d once loved.
He shook his head, careful not to move too quickly as he straightened.
“No, the shadowing.”
It had been years since he’d last traveled with a vampire, and the experience was as unpleasant as he remembered.
“Oh.” Brynleigh sucked her lip through her teeth. “That’s… good.”