Collector: City In Embers Part 29

The muscles along Ryker's neck and jaw tightened. I was thankful even with the candlelight it was dim, and he wouldn't be able to see the deep red blistering over my cheeks. Why did I tell him those things? What was it about him that made my mouth open and s.h.i.t fall out-stuff I never told anyone and the vulnerable side I let no one see?

Ryker's boots clomped toward the door. "Lock this behind me; I'll be back soon."

"What?" I sprang off the counter. "Where are you going?"

"Just lock it behind me," he repeated. He then slipped through the door, leaving me standing in confusion.

Since none of the absentee resident's clocks worked, and even the one with a battery seemed to have decided to call it quits, I didn't know how long Ryker was gone. It felt like forever. To keep my mind off his absence, I flipped inattentively through some of the woman's magazines, the candle wax dripping on her gla.s.s coffee table.

It bothered me I was so restless because he was gone. My heart leaped every time I thought I heard movement coming up the stairs. After a while, I was sure my mind was imagining every little sound.

The void left by Sprig bothered me as well, though missing him didn't trouble me like Ryker. Sprig was a little fur ball of att.i.tude and hilarity. I worried about him being on his own and who had him. I hoped he was smart enough not to open his mouth. That would be bad. My instinct to protect him and need to have him safe with me was new. It was a cross between having a kid, little brother, and a pet. Never having any of them, I imagined this was what it would feel like. Now I sympathized with Andrew losing his dog. They did become part of your family. With Sprig gone, I understood the deep loss experienced.

For the twelfth time, I peeked out the blinds before slumping back on the sofa. I was twitchy. And even though it was cold outside and in the apartment, I felt hot. It has to be whatever drug is in my system working itself out. Waves of heat spiked, and I tore off the cloak. Ryker's shirt clung to my chest. The smell of him grew intense. I became more sensitive to its touch by the minute. Like a cat in heat. I always got stimulated after a fight, but what I felt now was extreme.

Then a tap sounded at the door, striking three times.

Ryker! I jumped off the sofa and hurried to it, unbolting it and swinging it open.

The large Wanderer stood on the other side, a bag in his hand. "Don't ever open it without looking first."

"I knew it was you."

He scowled and stepped in, shutting it behind him.

"And how do you know I didn't check?"

"I know." He moved to the kitchen.

"Where have you been? You were gone forever." I landed next to him, feeling the warmth come off his body, which only upped mine.

I reached for the bag.

"I'm not as good at breaking and entering as you are," he grumbled, smacking my hand away from the sack and going to the sink.

"I could have gone with you."

"That would have ruined the whole point." He peered over his shoulder, studying me closely. "Are you all right?"

Okay, embarra.s.sing. He could probably sense or see the flush, which covered me from head to toe. It only turned higher the moment he walked in the door.

"Yeah. Just hot. Might be getting a fever or something."

"You said Maria injected with you something? What was it?"

"I don't know."

He watched me.

"I don't!"

He nodded, still staring. "Go sit." He indicated the chair on the other side of the counter.

"Why?"

He grabbed me by the shoulders, twisted me around, and walked me to the stools on the other side of the breakfast bar. "Sit," he demanded.

I watched him skeptically but sat on the stool.

"Close your eyes."

It took a beat before I let my lashes fall.

"Keep them closed." His voice was gruff and demanding, but for some reason, I found it endearing.

My ears sensed a movement, paper crumpling. Then I felt heat before he said, "Okay, you can open them."

Slowly my lids lifted.

A loaf of sourdough bread with little squares of b.u.t.ter, dried salami, and a bottle of wine sat before me. They weren't what made my eyes tear and my heart twist with emotion. Stuck in the middle of the loaf of bread was a burning candle.

"It's all I could find across the street to eat." His voice went unemotional, dismissive.

My eyes blinked over and over, my throat tightening.

"Anyway. Happy birthday."

I would not cry. I would not cry.

s.h.i.t.

A single tear escaped, but I quickly wiped it away.

Ryker rolled his eyes. "f.u.c.k sake, Zoey. I was getting us something to eat anyway. I happened to run across a drawer with candles in it. Seemed fitting for tonight. So blow the d.a.m.ned thing out."

He was lying. You didn't simply run across candles unless you were searching for them. I worked for a minute as a waitress. I was fired after the first week because of my att.i.tude, but I knew most places kept this type of stuff by the hostess stand.

I would play his game. I closed my eyes and blew out the flame. I swallowed my emotion and reopened my lids. "You better have stolen a wine opener, or I'm sending your a.s.s back."

He smirked and grabbed the bottle. "Twist off."

I grinned.

Most likely the girl who lived here had both wine and an opener, but it was the thought that counted. I collected the bread and meat. "Grab a knife."

I set the food on the coffee table, sat on the sofa, and freed my feet of my boots. Ryker followed with the wine, grabbing cups and a knife out of the drawer.

The bread was stale but still tasted good. Salami was not one of my favorite meats, but it was heaven tonight. Everything tasted amazing, especially the wine.

After we finished all the food and were down to the last swig of wine, Ryker grabbed my legs, stretching them over his lap. "How are you feeling?" His hands prodded at the cuts in my jeans and nodded toward my ribs.

My heart thumped like a rabbit's foot.

"Surprisingly well." I lifted my shirt a bit, the bruising was still purple and blue, but it hurt a lot less. "I mean, I'm not going to do any gymnastic routines, but I thought I'd be in a lot more pain."

His brows tightened, his hand touching my stomach, feeling the ribs underneath. I had been warm earlier; now the room was stifling. Beads of sweat dampened the back of my neck. Shut up, heart. The d.a.m.n thing was broadcasting my emotions. Was I so lonely that a simple touch from a man would send my heart into cardiac arrest? Okay, he wasn't a normal guy. This one was so intense, so s.e.xually masculine, even if he weren't necessarily your type, he would be. At first I hadn't thought of him "in that way" or even imagined him having s.e.x. After the night he confused me for Amara, I was fighting the fluttering in my heart, pushing it away. Sitting next to him on a small sofa, my legs across his lap, his fingers tracing my ribs, it was all I could think of.

Oxygen. I needed oxygen.

I bolted off the sofa. He leaned back, looking startled.

"Sorry. Have to pee." I escaped into the restroom, shutting the door firmly behind me. My hands gripped either side of the sink, my head lowered as I breathed in deeply. It was almost pitch black in the small room, but the moonlight let in enough glow so I could make out my outline in the mirror. Turning my face, I caught a glimmer of my eyes reflecting in the gla.s.s.

"You are simply lonely. You've been stuck with him in some intense circ.u.mstances... that's all," I berated the image in the mirror, my voice an angry whisper. "You don't actually have feelings for him. You're projecting." See, I did learn something from my therapy.

Shut it down now, Zoey. Shut those pesky feelings off.

Taking another deep inhale, I straightened myself and walked back to Ryker. He sat on the edge of the sofa, his head in his hands, shoulders hiked to his ears. He rubbed fiercely at his temples.

"I'm tired," I stated and walked to the girl's dresser. She wouldn't mind if I borrowed something for the night, right? I needed to get out of my b.l.o.o.d.y jeans and Ryker's T-shirt. His smell was too close, suffocating me. I grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank and went back to the bathroom.

In a cabinet I located some face wipes and cleaned myself the best I could. The dirt and blood covering my body was more than skin deep. I could feel it soaking into my skin and coating my insides. Perspiration dotted my forehead as I struggled to get on my tank and pants, but there was no way I would call Ryker for help. Finally dressed, I plopped on the edge of the tub, exhausted. Was it possible to age years in a month?

"Do you need help?" Ryker knocked. He was asking, but his tone was hoping my answer would be no.

"No." I glared at the door, my words snapping through the barricade. "I can pee by myself. Thank you."

"Good."

My lip rose in a snarl, annoyance covering my limbs. With effort I stood and swung open the door. "It's all yours. Unless you already used the sink as your toilet."

His chest filled with air. "No. Viking. Peed. On. Floor," he replied, clearly getting my insult.

"Thought you weren't a Viking."

"Like it matters to you what I am." He brushed past me and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

Arrgg! Fae. Wanderer. Viking. Pirate. a.s.shole. Check all the above for the pain in my b.u.t.t. I stormed to the bed and flipped down the bedding, crawling between the sheets.

Oh. My. I had slept chained to a water pipe in Marcello's hideout for the last several nights. The mattress and quilt swallowed me, wrapping comfy arms around me. Finally Goldilocks found her "just right."

"Whoever you are. Thank you." I spoke to the spirit of the woman who lived here. I silently sent her appreciation vibes, directing them to Hawaii. I didn't know her, but I was happy she was safe. There was a good reason she was not currently living here, and it didn't include the words dead or in the hospital.

Jeez, when did I get so sentimental?

The bathroom door creaked open. For as big as he was, his footsteps were practically silent if he wanted them to be. Anger had dissolved the moment I sank on her mattress. It felt too good to be mad at anything.

Ryker grabbed a pillow and a blanket off the settee and tossed them on the carpet.

"Oh, jeez, Ryker. You don't have to sleep on the floor. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

He surveyed me with mistrust. Like a typical woman, my moods changed in an instant. This unsettled most men. They weren't sure if they trusted this new mood, or if we were going to strike the moment they put their guard down.

To be honest, it could go either way.

Whether I actually wanted him next to me, or if this was my way of showing him it wasn't a big deal if he slept in the bed with me, I didn't know or didn't want to know.

I rolled my eyes. "Get in." I flipped the bedding on his side open. "Seriously, you will thank me. I want to marry this mattress." I snuggled back in, wiggling with happiness.

He walked over and sat at the end of the bed, pulling off his boots.

s.h.i.t! What did I do? I rolled over and faced the opposite wall. I heard him take off his harness and unzip his pants before his jeans. .h.i.t the floor.

I squeezed my lids together. What the h.e.l.l was I thinking? An almost naked man was lying next to me on my birthday when I was extremely lonely, a little tipsy-and let's be honest, h.o.r.n.y. When was the last time I had s.e.x?

No! No s.e.x thoughts. Bad s.e.x thoughts.

The bed dipped as he climbed in next to me. His heat hit my back like an explosion, adding to the fire already inside me. I felt his bare skin taunting mine. His leg brushed against mine, and I bit hard on my lip.

This was a very bad idea.

My arm ached, but I didn't move a muscle. I took shallow breaths, trying to convince my mind to sleep. It laughed at me.

I could feel the tension. Neither of us moved. It wasn't natural. Only three nights ago, I slept in his arms with no problem. I wanted to scream, to sit and demand we get over whatever this was, to go back to us disliking each other. Loathing was comfortable for us. It made sense.

I heard him let out a staggered breath, and the bed moved as he rolled onto his side, his back to mine.

Eventually my body beat out my mind in the need for rest, but it was only surface sleep since my brain mixed Daniel, Lexie, and Ryker in a stream of cruel and mocking images.

TWENTY-SEVEN.

"Wakey-wakey." Something patted my face. My lashes lifted to a furry brown creature not even an inch away. I jerked, my eyes blinking. "Looks like not being here last night was a good thing." His eyebrows wiggled, nodding toward the object beside me.

My brain felt so confused and sleepy, but the feel of Ryker pressed against my back, his head tucked into my neck, shot adrenaline through my veins. My brain suddenly cleared, reality zooming in distinctly. "Oh my G.o.d, Sprig!" I sat, causing Ryker to jump. He looked around, puzzled. "You're okay!"

"Of course, bhean." Sprig hopped on my knee. "It took me a while to find you, but never doubt I will."

"I don't doubt you. I only thought Marcello did something to you. Sold you." The sheer panic of it clipped my heart. I hadn't wanted to think about him being hurt or sold off, because I couldn't have handled it. I released a long breath. He was here and all right. I grabbed the furry little beast and hugged him.

"Wow, you get frisky in the morning." He smirked. "He didn't tire you enough?" I ignored his jabs, not caring what he said. The possible loss of him set in. I needed to hold him near. Relief washed over me, a smile growing on my face. The sun crept through the blinds, adding to my cheer.