"It’s fine. Go do your duty." She’d never fault him for who he was, for what he was made to be. "Your allegiance is to the Stars."
"I’d rather my allegiance be solely to you," he said.
A soft warmth pooled in Rin’s stomach. He squeezed her hands, then let her go, tugging his gloves on and cutting a hole through the air. Before vanishing through the portal swirling before him, he glanced back, blue eyes etched with a silent promise—more weighty than the Star carved onto his flesh.
Alone, Rin stared at where he had just been. Auren’s discarded mug rested near her ruined bowl of cereal. She sighed.
Rhyden stalked in, every trace of vulnerability fleeing her face, shielded beneath a mask of alert trepidation.
"Don’t pout, wife. I have something far more fun for you to do than drink fucking tea and make small talk. Never figured you’d be a blushing virgin, but"—Rhyden’s lips stretched into a wide grin, revealing his fangs—"oh, that’s right. There’ll be no changing your bedsheets on your wedding night."
"Don’t be crude," Rin snapped.
He barked a sharp laugh, making her jolt. "Catch."
She barely raised her hands in time to catch the dark helmet he’d thrown at her. "What’s this for?"
"You said you felt cooped up. You’re coming with me." Rhyden lifted the coffee mug she’d been using and ran his finger over the edge, brushing over the place her lips had touched.
He poured out the rest of the dark coffee into Auren’s discarded mug, and she curled her lip. Gross. Rhyden walked to a simple portrait hanging on the dark wall. Her eyes widened as he shifted one of the bricks by it, revealing a keypad. The portraitmade a hissing sound, then it swung open, revealing a small fridge filled with bottles of blood. He uncorked one, poured it into her coffee mug, and drank every drop, eyes never leaving her.
Rhyden set the now-empty mug on the table. A thin line of blood trickled from his lips. Rin’s hands curled against the sleek surface of the helmet, leaving fingerprints on it.
Sated, Rhyden groaned. "I fucking needed that."
"Why should I come with you?" she asked thickly. Even though a part of her was intrigued.
He stalked toward her, and she forced herself to stay put. With ease, he plucked the helmet from her hands, swept her hair away from her face, then lowered it onto her head. For a moment, her vision was obscured, and she felt his fingertips brush her neck, then felt the prick of his fangs as he lowered his head. She saw him pull away through the tinted visor.
"Fucking stay here then, wife. I won’t cry. You’ll just be missing out on all the fun."
Damn him for teasing her. She removed the helmet, not liking how it weighed her head down. She felt her hair stand on end as she held the helmet between them, pressing into her stomach.
"What if someone sees me?" she countered.
As if he’d anticipated her question, Rhyden tugged a black strip of fabric from the pocket of his leather jacket. He dangled it before her. "Stay covered up." She tried to reach for it, but he jerked it away, saying, "Let me." Before she could stop him, he roughly tugged the fabric over her head until it settled over her nose and mouth, leaving only her eyes exposed. It was warm and smelled like him. She blinked up at him, feeling tension in the air, crackling like fire as his rings grew white from the flames inside him.
He snuffed out the embers, pressing his palm flat on her face,smotheringher. Rin breathed in and felt the fabric suck into her mouth. She began to panic and?—
He released her.
Rin was fuming. Breathing deeply, she shoved the fabric down and planted her palms flat against his chest. She felt his muscles beneath her hands as she tried to shove him back. He didn’t budge.
"You—you asshole!" Rin cursed him.
He just smirked. "Let’s go."
Rhyden was playing a dangerous game,and the prize? His lying little mess of a wife, who had her tiny, delicate hands wrapped around his cock, leading him on. Not that she fucking knew the power she had over him. If Rhyden could help it, she never would.
He’d overheard her with the Soul Searcher. Her voice had taken on a different tone. Sweet. He’d been rooted outside the door, hanging onto every word, imagining what his name would sound like in that tone. Better if she moaned it.
Fuck.
He forced the thoughts down. Now wasn’t the time to get hard—especially with her pressed against his back.
Rhyden growled and took a corner low and fast. The motorcycle leaned low to the ground. He felt her fingers grip his waist tight, tiny little kitten claws pricking his skin as her hand snaked beneath his leather jacket. He smiled beneath his helmet.
He’d dragged her around nearly all day, tolerating her sanctimonious looks—but she hadn’t once complained. Not evenwhen he tied her to his motorcycle with ropes of fire, forcing her to stay seated while he made his rounds through the city’s nicer districts, checking in on matters that demanded his attention. It was always necessary to remind people who held the power.
