The question was, did I want to accept Ryker’s proposal? Cade would be back in a couple of days.
Ryker waited. He seemed to always know when my resolve was weakening.
It had been days since I’d left the stronghold. I’d woken up every morning and grabbed a breadroll and some tea before coming to the library that, at this point, I might as well claim as my study. Somebody, I was guessing Ryker, had set up this chair and table for me right in front of the window. I would have called the gesture sweet or kind, except he’d set up the second chair next to mine and sat in here with me most days. Sometimes he just sat there quietly, which had annoyed me at first but then I’d gotten used to his quiet presence.
But sometimes, like today, he chose to be annoying.
My gaze swept over the table stacked with books, reports, and my notes. I felt a little antsy, and going out for a run would do me some good. My focus would likely be better tomorrow, and I believed Ryker would hold up his end of the bargain and let me visit Samara.
Ryker was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them.
“Fine,” I said finally, blowing out a long breath. “Let’s go on a hunt. A quick hunt.”
Between one blink and the next, Ryker was in front of me, pulling me to my feet before dragging me to the door. “Sure thing, Princess.”
Immediately, I knew I’d made a bad decision. Again.
“So . . . you fuckin’ any of them yet?”
I glared at my soon-to-be-dead best friend, Samara, and shut the book I’d been reading hard enough that I heard the binding crack a little. Out of pure survival instinct, I looked around to see if Roth would appear out of the shadows to avenge my mistreatment of the ancient Fae book, but Samara’s reticent mate didn’t magically appear.
Good, because I was about to bash this book into Samara’s too pretty face and didn’t need any of her mates interfering.
“Okay, maybe not fuckin’.” She chuckled, the sound dark and raspy. “Because that is not the look of someone who’s getting regularly pinned against a wall and scre?—”
I threw the book at her.
Samara snatched it out of the air and carefully put it back onto the bookshelf that lined the wall where she stood.
Stupid Moroi reflexes. As a Velesian, I was stronger than her, but nobody could match a Moroi’s speed.
Samara grinned at me and flipped her long black hair over her shoulder before playing with the sleeve of her form-hugging, dark purple dress. Unless she was going out for a ride on her demonic mare, Zosa, Samara almost exclusively wore dresses. I was fairly certain it was to make it easier to get ravished by her mates at a moment’s notice.
My best friend was a sex fiend who had five mates who loved her beyond reason and strove to prove it to her constantly. Often by melting her mind with orgasms.
Obviously, I was intensely jealous.
“As I’ve told you multiple times”—I crossed my arms where I was leaning my butt against the table in the center of the room—“I will not be fucking anyone in the Alpha pack. My arrangement with them is purely political.”
That lie was so good, I almost believed it myself.
“Funny.” Even from ten feet away, I could see the flash of mischief in her deep purple eyes. “I could have sworn I smelled another scent on your clothes when you walked in an hour ago.”
Do not give anything away, I repeated in my head while I tried to maintain an aloof expression. And I swear to the moon, Talis, if you’re reading my thoughts, don’t you dare tell Samara.
The ring Samara wore on her finger was so much more than a piece of jewelry. It was an ancient Fae artifact that was not only sentient but telepathic. Normally, I could sense when they were in my head, but not always. Luckily, Talis was a very polite being and didn’t usually share whatever they picked up unless they felt Samara and her mates were in danger.
Your love life is messy, Talis whispered.
I’m aware, I thought back dryly.
An odd feeling brushed against my mind, as if I could feel the echo of someone giving me a sympathetic pat on the head. Great, I was now receiving pity from Fae artifacts.
“I live with all of them.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Our scents get all twisted up.”
Truth, but not all of it. My favorite kind of lie. And one I’d been giving to Samara a lot lately. I felt a little guilty about that, but not enough to tell her everything.
Telling her would make it real and I wasn’t willing to admit it to myself yet.
