But this…
This was different.
The sounds Ryker heard in this room would forever be imprinted on his mind.
In the darkness, the Earth Elf pleaded for mercy. His cries fell upon deaf ears.
A vicious, animalistic snarl ripped out of Brynleigh. It should have frightened Ryker and reminded him that he’d married a killer, but helikedit. He’d always known Brynleigh could defend herself, but hearing it was an entirely different story.
Time seemed to have no real consequence in this room shrouded in shadows.
Seconds, or maybe minutes, passed as the sounds of death washed over him.
Try as he might, Ryker couldn’t forget that he was the reason Brynleigh was in this situation. It was his plan that had brought them here, and it was his fault she’d returned to Jelisette.
On some level, this man’s death was on his hands.
He’d forever remember the sound of teethtearing into flesh and the elf’s final, strangled cry before silence—blessed, much-needed silence—blanketed the room.
In the quiet, Ryker’s heartbeat was a mallet pounding against his chest.
The air seemed to pulse as the shadows receded.
Ryker didn’t move until the last dark wisp was gone. His vision adjusted quickly, and his mouth dried as he looked over the scene before him.
Suddenly, Ryker had a greater appreciation of the fact that he’d survived his wedding night. He thought he’d understood how deadly vampires could be, but this…
Brynleigh wasn’t just a predator; shewasDeath.
She stood over the Earth Elf’s body, a few stray vines still scattered through the room where he’d tried to fend her off.
The evil man had failed miserably.
His head was bent at an awkward angle, two puncture wounds were on his neck, and a thick, bloody vine protruded from his chest. It was a horrid rendition of spring’s first blooms bursting through the snow.
“I had to make sure he was really dead.” Brynleigh frowned, eyeing the vine. “He was Mature.”
Her voice was strangely cold and detached, almost robotic. It was nothing like the one Ryker had come to know and love during the Choosing.
“I see. You did…” He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. “Well.”
Was that what one said when complimenting a killing?
From a cleanliness perspective, Brynleigh remained surprisingly blood-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.