He reached out and captured Brynleigh’s fingers. They were so soft, so much smaller than his. So right.
By the Obsidian Sands, how he’d missed this. Her. Them. Touching.
He could barely think, barely breathe. His entire world revolved around the sensation of her hand in his.
Gently, he tugged her closer.
Thank all the gods, she didn’t pull away. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if that had happened.
A groan rumbled through Ryker’s chest, and his entire body warmed at their nearness.
Fuck, he’d missed this more than he could ever put into words. They hadn’t had nearly enough time together. Before he could think too hard and convince himself this was a bad idea for numerous reasons, he brushed his thumb over the back of her knuckles.
Brynleigh breathed his name, and gods help him, those two syllables had never sounded so right.
Ryker was in this now, for better or for worse.
Holding her gaze, he inhaled deeply. Her unique scent of a crisp evening and night-blooming roses flooded him.
The touch wasn’t enough.
He needed more. He needed all of her.
His feet carried him closer. He couldn’t help it.
As bees were drawn to flowers and rivers were drawn to oceans, he was drawn to Brynleigh. She might destroy him, might ruin him, but at that moment when they were finally touching again, and neither of them was pulling away, he didn’t fucking care.
Maybe being ruined wouldn’t be so bad if she was by his side.
“See?” Ryker’s thumb stilled on the back of Brynleigh’s hand, pointing to the red streaking across her pale flesh. “Blood.”
She sucked in a breath, and he dragged his eyes up to her mouth. Those lips that he’d dreamed about parted, and he glimpsed her fangs nestled in her gums.
“Oh,” Brynleigh breathed, the sound drawing him straight back to their wedding night. “That… happens.”
It did seem like a rather normal side-effect of killing someone.
Stillness overtook them both. Each moment, each breath, was longer than the last.
He noticed everything and nothing at once.
Birds sang melodies from within the woods. Wolves howled, a pack responding to their leader. Stars shone brightly, lanterns in the sky providing witness to this stolen moment.
Every second was somehow the longest and shortest moment of his life.
Still, neither of them moved.
He should let go. He should walk away and give himself a stern talking-to. He should, but he couldn’t.
Somehow, Ryker knew that if he stepped away now, he might never get to touch her again. And damn it all, but he refused to allow that to happen.
Instead, his fingers curled around hers.
Not too tightly—they both knew she could break his hold in a heartbeat if she wanted to—and his gaze crawled up to hers.
Ryker slowly swept his thumb over her moonlit hand until he got to Brynleigh’s fourth finger.
“Why did you keep the ring?”