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I lean against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at my lips as I watch.

Hang in there, Ryker, I think quietly, watching the light bounce off his beautiful blue eyes. I'm going to find you the answers you deserve.

I promise.

Chapter ten

Ryker

Teagan must have a lot of faith in his acting skills, because he has no idea that I’m on to him. Just because he can flash a blinding, camera-ready smile and playfully tease me, doesn’t mean I won't notice the tension in his shoulders. Or that faraway stare that fills his eyes. I’ve spent the whole week studying him, trying to figure out what he’s hiding.

He’s been jumpy ever since we walked back from the football stadium. He tried to hide it during the fourth quarter, laughing along with his brother, but his gaze kept darting toward the exits. Even now, back in our suite, he’s pacing his bedroom. He doesn’t fool me for one damn minute.

Something rattled him at that game. And the fact that he isn't telling me makes a dark, protective instinct swirl in my chest. I’m his damn bodyguard, the person sworn to keep him safe.

I stand in the middle of the crowded bonus room, looking around at the clutter. I need to figure out what happened. What has him on edge. I need to draw out that anxiety and make him smile.

Make him feel safe.

Reaching down into my duffel bag, my fingers brush against a small, paper package I picked up two days ago from a boutique down in Creelin’s arts district. I originally bought the contents on a whim, drawn to them by a magnetic pull I couldn't explain. Now, they're the perfect distraction.

I pick up the package, grab my sketchbook and a pencil from my desk, and cross the hallway into Teagan’s room. "Mind if I keep you company?" I lean my shoulder against his doorframe.

Teagan stops mid-step, turning to face me. His purple hair is slightly ruffled, and for a split second, the performance drops. A vulnerable flicker of relief passes over his face before he covers it with a flirty smile. He’s relieved I’m here.

"Sure. I’m just going over lines in my head for tomorrow’s shoot.”

"Right.” I walk over to his bed and take a seat. "Sit down. I have something to show you."

Teagan tilts his head. He sinks onto the comforter beside me. His sweet scent invades my senses, sending a spike of heat directly to my cock. There’s something charged about our proximity. There always is. For not the first time since I’ve met Teagan, I wonder if there is something more than just heated chemistry between us.

"What's this?" he asks, looking at the paper bundle in my lap.

I smile. "A distraction."

Unwrapping the twine around the package, I place the collection of fabric onto the mattress next to us. Beautiful swatches of midnight-blue, purple, and charcoal. Each piece of material is expensive and elegant.

Teagan’s brown eyes widen. He traces the rich texture of the purple silk. "Ryker, these are stunning. Where did you get them?"

"A local shop downtown," I murmur, as I open the sketchbook. "I saw them in the window and immediately pictured you in them."

His eyes snap to mine. I set my pencil against the blank paper. The moment my fingers move, something that has to be deeply embedded within me takes over. Rather than thinking, I just draw.

My hand begins to move across the page with purpose. The sound of scratching against paper fills the quiet room. Lines blur into a distinct structure. A silhouette. A floor-length winter coat tailored for Teagan’s unique style.

Teagan’s lips part with shock. His intense gaze locked on my hands, his breath hitching slightly as he watches the design come alive. With lightning-fast strokes, I sketch. Even I’m amazed at the detailed coat.

"Fucking hell, Ryker," Teagan whispers. "This is amazing. You aren’t even pausing to think."

He's right. I'm not thinking, I’m just drawing.

As the pencil glides across the sheet, a strange, comforting hum vibrates beneath my purple skin like magic. A memory? It’s a phantom sensation of silk between my fingers, the smell of steam presses, the chalk marks on raw canvas, and the quiet pride shaping material into perfection. For a fleeting second, the dark fog in my mind clears. A whisper from my lost past, telling me that whoever I was, loved this.

Lived for this.

A sudden flare of emotion grips my chest. The pencil stumbles, leaving a dark smudge near above the shoulder. Before the cold dread of my amnesia can creep back in, Teagan’s hand gently slides over mine. His fingers are soft. Warm. So small against my broad, clawed hand.

"It's beautiful," Teagan whispers. His thumb rubs comforting circles over my knuckles. "You're amazing, Ryker. This design is stunning."