“No.” Brynleigh waved her left arm, her bracelet dangling over her wrist. “You signed me up for this, remember? This is my job as your asset.”
The words tasted like ash, and she hated them.
His fingers tightened around hers, and with his free hand, he lifted her chin until she looked at him. Storms flashed through his gaze.
“You are far more than an asset,” Ryker growled. “You know that.”
“I do.” She understood that doing this was the price of her freedom, just as she understood that her Maker was waiting for her. “But Jelisette doesn’t. And besides, she… trusts me. I think.”
At least, Jelisette hadn’t killed her.Andshe’d introduced Brynleigh to Dimitri. That meant something. Right?
“She may trustyou, but I don’t fucking trusther.” Ryker’s grip was just on this side of pain. “By the Black Sands and all that is holy, promise me you’ll do everything to stay safe tonight. In and out. No dilly-dallying.”
Ryker’s magic rippled off him in waves, a mighty tempest running through the room.
Brynleigh dipped her head. “I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”
She didn’t want to linger anywhere near her Maker.
Ryker didn’t release her. Instead, he pulled her close and cupped her cheek.
“Listen to me. You’re my wife, and I need you to make it out of there alive. Jelisette might have Made you, but you aren’t hers. You’remine.”
Her heart raced at his words, but he wasn’t done.
“This can’t be the end. If she hurts you, I will make River’s storm look like a trickle of water when I seek my retribution. Is that clear?”
The fae’s possessive words should have probably turned Brynleigh off, but instead, her core twisted.
Brynleigh’s fangs ached, and not for the first time, she wondered what Ryker would taste like. Would his blood be rich, deep, and full of the storms swirling in his gaze? Or perhaps smooth, with a touch of spice?
She’d never wanted to bite someone as much as she did right now.
She squeezed her thighs together. These were entirely inappropriate thoughts to have minutes before meeting her Maker.
What did it say about Brynleigh that her husband’s show of possessive fae ownership turned her on? Probably nothing good.
A problem for another time.
“Yes, it’s clear.” She smiled. “Don’t worry; I’ll be quick.”
He stared at her. “I’ll always worry about you.”
That was sweet. Unnecessary but sweet.
After all, Brynleigh was more than capable of keeping herself safe. She was a weapon, through and through.
Brynleigh smiled. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know you are, but it won’t stop me from worrying,” he said. “Whether it’s tonight, when you’re at the safe house, in three days, when you’re at the next rebel meeting, or just when you’re sleeping. I cannot stop worrying about you any more than I can stop my lungs from drawing air.”
Gods, he was good with words.
“I appreciate that,” she murmured. “I want to get this over with. The sooner I can be done with Jelisette, the better.”
Brynleigh’s shadows were already jumpy.
“We are in agreement there.” Ryker’s brows furrowed, and he stood. “About that…”