17. Ryder
17
Ryder
V essa was playing this game where she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hate me or fuck me. I was a greedy bastard for wanting both. Just tolerating my existence was driving her mad, and I knew I had the lead the moment she blushed, making her bronze skin rosy. Honey and vanilla filled the air in her absence, her breath a phantom caress across my lips. The swell of her breasts had done that little shake when I’d tugged her with my rope and left me with a swelling cock. Her threats were like honey on my lips, and I wanted more.
Seeing her reaction washed away the image of Raven sleeping beside her. Waking up to find his arm wrapped around her body had been enough for me to want him dead. He was a constant plague swirling around her.
I watched Vessa stride away, moving through the room like she owned it. She would always belong in any crowd she waltzed into. She was the kind of woman who would make men bend a knee if they felt otherwise.
Call her a demon, hellion, or whatever the fuck else people said about the Umbra Fae, but deep down inside, I had a feeling she was good. It was intriguing to see behind Vessa’s hardened gaze, witnessing her in those moments we’d shared inside a quiet existence.
She was reckless and untamed in a world where most fae were either dead or bent at the knee by the threat of Fang, who had the source of their Eternal. Once she discovered what Fang had been doing with the Elemental Fae and the Eternal stone, she might change her course of action.
Through the crowded tavern, I watched her speak with End’s Wrath as her dark hair and sun-kissed highlights swayed back and forth. I studied his face for a reaction to see what sort of conversation they were having. As promised, he reached into his coat pocket, handing her the tonic and what I assumed was the key to her room. I took that as my sign to leave to see what this apocalyptic piece-of-shit town had to offer. I was suddenly in the mood for something sweet.