Isvana help her, but being right had never been so agonizing. It wasn’t just Brynleigh’s body that hurt. She was used to that. Physical pain came and went all the time.
It was her heart that burned with a never-ending ache, like an ember had lodged itself within her life-giving organ and was incinerating her from the inside out.
Between that and the mental exhaustion plaguing her, she’d been too sore to talk about what had happened thatnight. As soon as the blood had kicked in, healing her wounds, she had silently retreated to the bedroom. There, she’d slid the phone and credit card Jelisette gave her on the nightstand, stripped, and climbed into the shower.
Usually, hot water calmed Brynleigh, bringing her peace.
Not this time.
Between Jelisette’s anger and Ryker’s… well, everything, she’d still been tense when she’d turned off the water. In an exhausted haze, Brynleigh had toweled off, put on her coziest clothes, and climbed into bed.
Ryker hadn’t come to talk to her, and she hadn’t sought him out before falling into a fitful sleep.
The next day had gone similarly. Same with the one after that. And the next.
The house was too small for them to hide from each other completely, but they’d been engaged in a strange, silent dance. Brynleigh spent most of her time in the bedroom, and Ryker occupied the living space. Whenever he used the shared bathroom, she made sure the door to the bedroom was closed.
Neither of them talked about the divide between them. They didn’t talk about anything, and that fucking sucked.
Even though they weren’t speaking, she was constantly aware of his presence. It was like her body was attuned to his. Her ears picked up the sounds of his movements no matter what he was doing.
A quick investigation of the nightstand had unearthed a book,The Shadow and the Sparrow.
Even the historical enemies-to-lovers romance between a six-hundred-year-old vampire lord and a bird shifter couldn’t distract Brynleigh from the fae on the other side of her door.
For every page she read, she spent twice as long listening to Ryker.
Who knew one person could make so many sounds?
She cataloged each one: his low, tense voice when he spoke on the phone; his grunts as he exercised in the living room every morning; the quiet clash of cutlery as he ate; and even his soft snores as he finally slept, tossing and turning on that too-small couch.
Twice, Ryker’s friend Nikhail had stopped by, delivering food and blood.
Both times, Brynleigh stayed in the bedroom.
The men spoke in low tones, too quiet even for her to hear, but their voices were like gentle rivers rumbling through the house.
Much like it had during the Choosing, Ryker’s voice haunted Brynleigh, waking and sleeping.
He haunted her.
She couldn’t get him out of her head. Despite the anger she felt towards him for allowing them to torture her, her mind still sought him in her dreams.
Whenever she wasn’t plagued by nightmares, it was just them and their feelings, and it wasgood. Anger, betrayal, and deceit did not exist in her dreamscape, and they were happy.
But dreams were nothing but figments of imagination, and they never lasted.
When she woke, they faded away, and reality tumbled back into her. She couldn’t hide in the bedroom forever. Their silent little bubble would pop sooner or later, forcing them to deal with everything.
Chances were, when that happened, it wouldn’t be pretty.
So, for now, Brynleigh was content to be quiet, listen to Ryker, and dream of a world where they weren’t broken.
The silence shatteredat six p.m. that same day.
The Shadow had just declared his undying love for the Sparrow by providing her with the decapitated heads of her enemies as a wedding gift when a shrill ring sliced through the quiet.
Brynleigh jolted.