Last Ride of the Umbra Fae

6. Ryder

6

Ryder

W rong move.

I had overshot it by fucking miles.

What was I thinking?

The anger looming in the irises of her purple eyes had been enough to cut me where I’d sat. I finished my coffee at the bar, facing the exit where she had stormed off. Her over-protective feathered pet followed seconds after.

I was off to a bad start.

While we saddled up at the hitching post, I caught her looking my way, a glower that had me thinking I needed to make some sort of peace offering to get off her bad side. However that would play out, I needed to be quick about it; being annoyed at my presence would have been far better than hating me. I thought about how I had dug my own grave as I watched the morning sun filter through her silky hair. The wind blew through every lighter strand in such an angelic way, as if she had the power of Nai at her fingertips. She was a dark angel beneath a blazing sun.

She paused when she heard my boots scraping across the gravel, saying nothing as I stood behind her.

“Here,” I said, low and gruffly. Maybe I could have sounded more pleasant, but I didn’t usually apologize.

She whirled around with a daggered stare but relented when she saw the cloth of licorice in my hand. “Candy?” She huffed a cocky laugh, but I caught a flash of excitement in her eyes.

A smile ticked the corner of my mouth. “Well, consider it a peace offering for me acting like a complete fucking idiot. I should have known.” I paused. “Considering you are the last of the Umbra.”

Her eyes hardened. “It’s going to take a lot more than candy and a pearly smile to get on my good side, demon.”

“Demon?” I questioned. A grin curved my lips. I kind of liked that. “Is that what you see me as?” One step forward, and I was in her range.

There was a long pause before she spoke, an observation as I felt her power, an unseen darkness curling around me. Deep violet eyes peeked out from under the brim of her cowboy hat. She smiled widely and ever so wickedly, like a mountain lion who had caught its prey. The tendrils of her ano crept inside my mind, like hands sifting deeper through my thoughts, trying to peel back all the complex layers that made me who I was.

I was a monster, a terrible one that would ruin and destroy her with a simple touch if I were to ever get that chance. But I also had a unique ability she had likely never experienced.

I was her equal in mind play.

I hid all of my not-so-flattering thoughts and memories but chose one to show her.

My thoughts wandered to the moment she had walked into the saloon last night so she could see how intoxicatingly beautiful she was through my eyes. The thought struck her back briefly.

Satisfied, she then yanked something out of the inside pocket of my coat, stifling the moment.

Fuck the hells.

“I see you are someone who doesn’t play all his cards in the first round,” she surmised as she held the entire hidden stash of my licorice in her greedy, gloved hands.

She took a bite of the flavored onyx rope, tearing a piece with a vengeance that unexpectedly made my cock twitch.

I was a demon, and I would be her demise.

End’s Wrath had beamed with pride seeing his daughter swindle the fuck out of me, getting exactly what she’d wanted. Though he looked content with the rope of licorice hanging from his mouth, his hands tightened on the reins. Gaze hardened, his eyes were now set on the terrain ahead—a brutal, grueling desert awaiting our arrival.

Vessa looked over her shoulder, flashing a venomous smirk my way. Her coat was tucked somewhere inside her bag, and her arms showed years of hard work, the sleeve going up her right arm hiding scars, burn marks. I felt a sharp twinge on the tops of my ears, phantom memories of the day the tips had been cut off by my mother’s old lover, a man who was disgusted and jealous of me and the mark that had depicted who I was.

Fae.

The faint scars barely showed unless one were close enough to see where the knife had sliced through. Still so sensitive to the touch that, some days, it was painful to wear a hat.

Vessa and I had both been caught in a hail of storms the day the Eternal stone had been discovered by the humans. It had marked the beginning of an annihilation. That was when the old me still existed, the one who might have cared about the turn of events. Now, I was a mirage of a human disguising something far more powerful. I was, in my very own way, someone who could mix and blend with both worlds, moving around them in plain sight. No magic or power decorated my skin like some of the other fae. No tipped ears to depict if I lived or died.

I killed for a living, and my biggest payoff was riding on that mare. The silhouette of Vessa’s feathered familiar flew above me, casting a shadow on my thoughts as my horse kept a steady gait. He dove down and flew beside me for a moment, analyzing me with a beady, black eye before croaking the equivalent of a “fuck you.” He flew ahead, coasting on a gust of wind between End’s Wrath and Vessa.

Clicking my tongue against my cheek, my dark stallion galloped alongside her. She eyed the neck of my guitar sticking out of my bag. I waited for her to ask about it, but she didn’t. Silence hung in the air. It wasn’t my job to tell her where we were going; I left that up to the old man, but the damn bastard barely spoke. So far, all she knew was that we were going north to The City of Donia in search of the one who knew how to make a plethora of her tonic. Those who knew the process had become a scarcity, and only I could get them in.

“We have a lot of terrain to cover. I suggest we ride until sundown.”

Thank fuck, he finally spoke.

End’s Wrath knew the bargain we had made. For a morsel of the tonic, a hefty payment every other night. I had just enough vials for the trip. I enjoyed the thrill of nara coins flowing into my pockets.

Taking them all at once took out the fun. He mutually agreed; it was a small comfort for him that I couldn’t take off with his entire payment before my side of the deal was complete.

We rode uphill, the final trek that would be the beginning to their end.

Standing on the cliff, we took in the sight of an unforgiving desert that would soon be ours for the taking.

“There’s no turning back now,” End’s Wrath said, his gloved hands tightening on the reins again.

Dusk began to break apart the horizon, swallowing the sun as the remnants of its light flared its desperate dance, drowning between the clouds. I turned to look at Vessa, a beauty so rough yet soft at the same time. As hues of orange light brushed across her face, something in me snagged. The look on her face told me she found beauty in this bleak moment. Most people feared this view, knowing the stories that had come out of this desert, as if it were the final nail in their coffin, but she seemed to grab it; held on as if it were the last time she would ever lay her pretty eyes on such a sight. There was something more than what met the eye with her. Eager for the danger she sought looking out into the horizon. She willed it; called upon her shadows as darkness filtered in faint stars across the sky.

She removed her cowboy hat, unveiling herself before me like the brightest of stars had somehow fallen and landed in this hellhole. The wind picked up, a perfect gale flowing through her hair. She took in a calming breath, a release I felt so intensely that, if I were standing, I might have fallen to my knees. The luminosity of her freckles peppered across her face. Onyx- and magic-tipped ears shimmered as night fell over us. She tossed her hat and gloves to her father, wide-eyed and smiling. My gaze fell to her hands painted by the goddesses themselves. My breathing hitched. A tilt of his hat, and she tightened the grip on the reins. One simple glance my way was all it took for me to be undone. She winked, horse rearing up before she took off riding into the inky swells of darkness—a light storming into the mouth of the devil, with her shadow flying above her.

I could see why End’s Wrath kept her hidden.

A light in the dark.

A fallen star.

We were to embark on a journey through the wild Desert of Miera—open game to those who sought the same path. Which meant open kill. Most counted their blessings if they made it through the day here and still breathed. The shadows acknowledged the Umbras’ presence, kneeling, but it was the other monsters we’d need to be leery of. For it was likely I wasn’t the only bounty hunter on their trail. If they only knew how valuable she truly was.

Tonight had solidified it. Damned be the ones who stood in my way. She was mine for the taking.