Chapter 52

I traced a toe along the wooden floors. As I stepped around the couch, I deposited my guns on the side table. It seemed like we were staying for the long haul, so might as well. I looked back around the living room. It didn’t feel right to sit on the couch and let Ryker cook. I was never one to sit on the sidelines, and I wouldn’t do it here.

“Do you need help?” I padded toward the kitchen.

Ryker chopped the carrots faster. “Nah, I’m good.”

I eyed his fluid movements, the fine edge of the knife slicing through the carrots like a samurai blade. “Hey, I’d rather help. It doesn’t feel right that you’re cooking.” Ducking my chin, I added, “It’s my fault we’re stuck in this cabin to wait the blizzard out.”

Ryker cocked his head.

I rolled my eyes. He was going to make me answer. “If we hadn’t detoured to the were-bar, then we would’ve been back in your territory earlier, and not stuck out here.” I sighed, folding my arms across my chest.

“Happy now?”

Ryker’s eyes widened. “That’s not on you. You got the information you needed, yeah?”

I gave a nod. “More than I could’ve imagined. After you left, I spoke to a young witch.”

Ryker raised a brow. “The head witch turned me away. She wouldn’t reveal the scent on the cloth. So I entered the bathroom to… freshen up, and a young witch by the name of Sandral followed me.”

Ryker’s eyes darkened. “What did she do?”

I waved a hand. “Nothing. She actually offered to help.”

Ryker rolled his eyes. “You can’t trust witches,” he scoffed. “What could she possibly have helped with?”

I frowned. “She confirmed that the scent on the cloth was Dark Fae.”

Ryker blinked, then his brow furrowed as suspicion seemed to differ from his beliefs.

“And even more… She revealed to me that the Dark Fae Realm is dying. That they need human adoration and worship to thrive.” I told Ryker about the relation between humans and fae and my suspicions. “What if the reason they’re killing humans is to take over our realm, to make Earth their home?”

Ryker’s eyes squinted as he mulled over what information I’d given him. “That would explain why humans are dying,” he admitted. He shook his head. “But it doesn’t explain why they’re using the werebears to murder the humans. Their power is still famed with the Werekind. They could easily come over and kill humans themselves. What correlation do the werebears have in this shitstorm?”

I nibbled on my lower lip, perplexed by the use of werebears in the killings myself. I sighed, placing my hands on my hips as I traipsed closer. “Whatever the reason, it doesn’t change the fact that a Dark Fae is responsible for Chelsea’s murder. And wherever he is, he’s mine. I’ll rip his goddamn head off.”

Ryker smirked, eyes softened a bit. My heart fluttered. “There’s my killer wolf.”

I glared at him. He stepped to the side and gestured toward the celery. “You can wash that and then cut it into fine pieces.”

In the kitchen, I set to work on helping Ryker prep the meal. The silence between us was deafening. Sure, there was a lot of noise and chopping sounds as we diced vegetables, the subtle breaths we breathed, the shift of clothes against skin as we moved about the small kitchenette.

But that only made me more aware of Ryker. His presence seemed to fill the room, consuming the very air I breathed. His large shoulders grazed mine occasionally as we went about prepping, sending a thrill down my spine.

I swallowed, clenching my thighs harder, hoping to stanch the smell of my arousal. As I stood so close to him, I felt sure he could smell it. I didn’t know whether to be irritated or relieved that he ignored it.

I bit on my lower lip for a moment. “Thank you.”

Ryker’s hands paused in cutting. “For what?”

I hesitated, licking my lips. “For standing up for me. Back at the were-bar. You… didn’t have to do that.”

Seconds passed that stretched on into minutes. My shoulders sagged as I feared Ryker wouldn’t respond.

His voice reverberated and startled me. “There are no thanks needed.”

I swung my eyes at him.

“Nobody should treat a female that way.” Ryker’s hand fisted around the handle of the knife. He lifted his gaze, his blue eyes colliding with my brown ones. “Especially you.”

The breath escaped my lungs. And I found all I could do was stand there, my lips parted but no words coming forth. “W-what do you mean ‘especially me’,” I stammered once I got bearings on my tongue.

Ryker shrugged one shoulder, returning his attention to the food. I returned to my own prep work, stealing glimpses at him from beneath my lashes. As I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye, I felt something sharp bite into my finger.

With a startled cry, I dropped the knife that I held and raised my finger into view. Blood welled from a nasty cut that sliced across the first digit of my finger. “Dammit,” I hissed, my face warming with embarrassment and anger that I had made such a fool’s mistake in front of the alpha werebear.

I made to move to the sink, hoping to run water over the wound. I also needed to ask Ryker where he stocked a first aid kit. A large hand shot out, and with a tenderness I didn’t know he had, Ryker grabbed hold of my injured hand. Before I could ask him what he was doing, he took my cut finger in his mouth. The warm heat of his tongue slicked around my wound, sucking on the blood.

I knew from instinct what he was doing. Latents didn’t have regenerative powers like our counterparts who could shift to beast form. My brain registered that Ryker was only trying to heal my wound. But my body took it to a whole different level. A shiver fluttered down my spine. I felt my sex pulse, curls dampening. My core clenched, abdomen contracting as a need so violent with passion swept through—urging me to be filled by the primal male before me.

Ryker’s nostrils flared. His gaze collided with mine, eyes spiked through with intense amber. He had caught the aroma of my arousal. I felt my finger in his mouth. The cut no longer hurt, the wound long healed. But instead of Ryker releasing my finger, he dragged it deeper into his mouth. His eyes held mine—never straying as his tongue swirled around my finger, thrusting up and down the digit.

A breathy moan escaped my mouth. I rocked on my heels to the ball of my feet pitching toward Ryker, wanting, needing more.