Page 23 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

“Thanks for sitting with Boyce,” Aolyn says. “I couldn’t sit with him. Not when he’s in a mood.”

I give her a questionable look, but mask it quickly. He wasn’t in a mood, per se, just a little judgy and flirtatious. Before we left the royal box, he kissed my hand, bowing before me and letting his lips linger a little too long. He made a show of letting his gaze rake down my body before smirking and heading off in the direction of his parents, who were being escorted out of a side entrance.

“No problem.” I stop and grab her arm. “I’ll catch up with you. I need to…” I trail off and gesture with my thumb back to the arena.

Aolyn grins and wraps her arms around Kamden, reassuring me that she’ll see me later.

Ezra, Theovan, and I weave our way against the flow of the crowd leaving the arena, and slip into the hall that leads toward the locker rooms. The arena is almost empty by the time our team makes their way out. All have been healed of cuts, but bruises still mark their bodies.

“Good game,” I say softly as several of the players pass me. I wait for a few more minutes until I spot Trysten. He stops beside me, accepting praise from teammates as they file out.

“He said to meet him in his room. He’ll be there shortly.” Trysten keeps his voice low, smiling and patting teammates on the shoulder as they leave. “I’ll walk with you.”

I was really hoping to see him, but it's safer for me to be seen with Trysten, especially if King Alexi expects me to be with Ryker. I nod and allow him to lead the way.

The closer I get to Ryker’s room, the more my nerves get the best of me. Ezra and Theovan are definitely not helping. They’re all on edge. Trysten leaves me at the door, with Theovan and Ezra outside, and the rest of our team surrounding the dorm.

I drop down onto the bed, curling up and closing my eyes for a few minutes. The sheets smell so much like him as I sink further into the pillows. A few more minutes pass before I hear the door close. I peel my eyes open and find Ryker above me.

“Hi,” he says softly, dropping to his knees beside me. “Have a good nap?”

I yawn, stretching. “I wasn’t sleeping. Just closed my eyes for a few minutes.”

Ryker chuckles and shakes his head. He stands, kicking off his boots and crawls in beside me. “You’ve been asleep for a while.” He sits against the headboard, pulling me into his lap. “I brought lunch up here, figuring you’d be hungry when you woke.”

My cheeks flush, with an apology already on my tongue.

Ryker drops his mouth to mine.

Whatever apology I had planned dies. Ryker’s desire mixes with my own, but before I can tug his shirt off, he pulls away, shaking his head.

“You’re still grieving.”

“I’m fine,” I argue.

“Fine isn’t a feeling I’m particularly fond of. Besides—” He checks the date on his watch. “—your cycle should be starting any day. I don’t want to hurt you.”

My cheeks blush. “I’ve heard orgasms can help relax you.”

He hums, a small smile pulling the corners of his mouth. His hands squeeze my hips, thumbs brushing my bare skin. “Soon. I’m going to worship this body, but I can’t be an asshole today.”

I chuckle. “I like you being an asshole.”

His nostrils flare.

“And what if I beg?” I taunt, dropping my voice as I rock my hips.

He groans, accidentally slamming his head into the headboard. I can’t help but giggle as I kiss his face and then his head. The movement sends a sharp twinge of pain through me, sudden and unwelcome, like my body reminding me of its limits.

I want to scream.

Why can’t I just be selfish? Why can’t I just have this one thing without my body fighting me for it? Grieving or not, hurting or not, I just want one moment where my body doesn’t decide for me.

As if he can see it on my face, Ryker pulls me in for another kiss. I move, rocking further into him, pouring that desperation into it. His hands grip my ass before sliding up my sides. He rolls us over so he’s pinning me to the bed. He kisses my neck, softly sucking at the tender flesh before trailing lower, lifting the jersey enough to reveal my stomach. He kisses there too before he slows, laying his head on my stomach, holding me.

I groan, and he smiles against my skin.

“There are other ways to release hormones, Soraea,” he teases. “And just because I’m the definition of sex⁠—”