Why couldn’t he see that her actions had been rooted in the same kind of love?
He had a right to be angry, but she did, too.
She’d suffered for weeks because of him. Been tortured by his people.
Just because she was a bad person didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to be angry about their treatment of her.
Fresh anger churned in her veins as she padded out of the bedroom. For the first time since their arrival, she took in her surroundings.
The only bathroom was accessible from both the bedroom and the main living space. All the walls were bare, save for a few generic scenic shots of farmland in the Western Region. The wooden floor was worn but well taken care of. Curtains covered the windows, blocking the sun’s deadly rays. The living room where they’d been earlier had a small TV, and the fireplace was unlit.
Thank the gods for that small mercy. Vampires and fire did not mix.
Ryker sat at the small kitchen table, staring at his phone. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, and beneath the table, his fist clenched and unclenched.
It didn’t take a genius to realize his mother was on the other end of the call. Especially as the Representative went on and on about how disappointed she was in Ryker.
Some of Brynleigh’s anger dissipated as she studied the fae captain.
He looked exhausted. Despite the rigidness of his shoulders, his eyes were heavy with sadness. He didn’t talk back as his mother berated him.
Brynleigh’s gut twisted. It had been doing that a lot since she’d been freed.
A defeated, fatigued look had settled onto Ryker’s face. He looked so unlike the confident fae she’d married that her anger deflated until there was nothing but frustration and sadness left in its wake.
They were both broken, both hurting, both betrayed…
And it was her fault.
Brynleigh fiddled with the bracelet, waiting for him to notice her.
It didn’t take long.
His eyes slid up to hers, and he held her gaze for a long moment before hanging up his call. She thought he would ask why she’d been eavesdropping, but instead, he groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
Tension filled the air, and Brynleigh hated it.
Like everything else, this felt wrong.
She moved towards him slowly, careful not to come too close. Even the air felt fragile, like the wrong move or word could destroy everything.
Several minutes passed in silence before she whispered, “Can I ask you something?”
The question had been weighing on her ever since she entered the hallway.
Ryker slowly lifted his head, sighing. “Yes?”
“Why do you let your mother talk to you like that? Why didn’t you tell her to stop?”
He could stand up against Tertia—he’d done it for Brynleigh the first night she’d met his mother, for the gods’ sake.
“I couldn’t.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “If I did, she’d show up here.”
Brynleigh swept her eyes over his, and her brows furrowed. “And you… don’t want that.”
“No.”
Her mouth dried. “Because of me?”