Chapter 4

Ryker

When the carriageclattered to a halt, I buttoned my pants as Dorothy rose from her knees. Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she settled across from me and fluffed her hair.

"I don't do that for just anyone," she told me as she licked her lips.

I draped my arm across the back of the seat and focused on the window behind her as she settled her skirt around her. She was a pretty woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, and she wanted more than a ride from me, but I wasn't looking for a wife or interested in any of the women vying for my attention since I'd returned from the war and captivity.

Or at least I didn't want anything outside of the fun Dorothy provided. Sex and booze only provided brief interruptions from the memories of everything I'd seen, endured, and lost, but I would take those distractions whenever I could get them.

"You can do it for whoever you want," I assured her. "I won't stop you."

I ignored her glare while I waited for the door to open… and waited… and waited. Growing annoyed, I was about to open it myself when the door flew open; a flustered, red-faced Sampson stood outside the carriage.

"What's wrong?" I inquired.

"Mi… mi…."

I frowned as Sampson continued stammering, and the man looked about to keel over. I rested my hand against the door and shoved it the rest of the way open, nearly knocking him over.

I emerged onto the cobblestoned streets where the shouts of merchants hocking their wares and the clomp of horses' feet against stone filled the air. The street, buildings, and stands lining the road once overflowed with amsirah, but there were far less than I'd anticipated.

It had been years since I'd been here, and it was far more subdued than I recalled. I intended to give this money directly to Ivan and learn what his plans were now that King Leo, my friend, was dead.

Other than the obvious course of him assuming the throne and becoming king… something I was sure would prove disastrous for the realm. However, there was nothing I could do to stop it, and I didn't particularly fucking care anymore.

Unlike some other immortals, such as the dark fae and lycans, birth determined amsirah rule, and since Leo never had children, Ivan was next in line for the throne. That hadn't made Leo happy, but he hadn't bothered to change it while he was still alive, and now it was too late.

Finally, I was liberated from captivity and returned to where I'd spent most of my life. I should be happy to be home and free from the torture and death I'd endured for months before escaping the ophidians—the half-snake, half-man monsters who relished in the agony of others.

Instead of being happy, I felt like a foreigner in a place that I once knew so well. Even women were unfamiliar to me.

Sure, I'd had fun with Dorothy and plenty of other women since returning, but I didn't know how to handle her now that I'd finished with her. There was a time when I would have sat for hours and listened to her, or any other aristocratic woman, prattle on about the most mundane, boring things without batting an eye.

Now, I'd asked Dorothy to suck my dick in the hopes she'd stop talking, and it worked. I wasn't going to complain about that.

After everything I'd endured over the past two years, the latest fashions, gossip, and drama meant nothing to me. I'd have stuck anything in her mouth to stifle her talk about dresses.

After the Ghoul War and my imprisonment, I would never be the same again. Nothing would ever be the same again, and I wasn't sure how to handle that.

"Milord," Sampson whispered as I continued to survey the inner bailey. "Milord, the chest is gone."

Not sure if I heard him right, my attention shifted from the streets to the pale servant hovering a few feet away. He'd moved far enough away so I couldn't strike him, but that was something my father would do, not me.

That wasn't me before I killed hundreds of ghouls, and it wasn't me now, but anger steadily rose to replace my disbelief. What Sampson said couldn't be true. It was impossible.

I was inside the carriage the whole time; there was no way anyone had taken my money. It was impossible. No one would dare rob me.

I may prefer not to hear the gossip anymore, but I'd heard the whispers of what the amsirah called me… the Scourge of the Ghouls. A monster. A man more dead than alive… a man who was more of a ghost than the ones in the Revenant Woods… and they weren't wrong.

Ignoring Sampson hovering at my side, I walked a few steps backward and craned my head to inspect the top of the vehicle. Sampson hunched his shoulders as he prepared for the explosion of temper that wouldn't wouldn't come from me.

Did the leather strap break? Is that what happened?

As my gaze fell on the empty top of the carriage and the pieces of straps tied together, fury boiled inside me. No, the strap hadn't broken. Someone had cut through it and then tied the ends together to hide that they'd stolen my money.

My hands fisted as my teeth scraped together. Whoever did this would pay for it.