Chapter 15

LYRA

He's dead.

The man who has plagued my darkest thoughts and nightmares is nothing but a bloodied pile on the ground—blood that's now dotting my skin, smeared everywhere Ryker's hands and mouth have touched. It should repulse me, send me running for the open door, yet I have never felt more at ease.

A part of me had an idea that this could be a possibility, that the link between Ryker and the hellhound was more than a coincidence. There had been too many questions with no answers. Now, though, seeing him in the flesh, walking out of a smoke-filled haze… It all makes so much sense.

Nuzzling into his chest, I inhale his scent, that familiar smokey, manly smell that has died off over the last few weeks. It became a comfort for me, something to cling to when life felt overwhelming. Straight from the source, though? It's utterly fucking intoxicating, like a drug made with me in mind.

"We need to get you something to wear and get you home, pretty girl," he whispers into my hair, his voice low and husky. My core clenches at the tone, forcing our release to drip from inside me and onto the sofa. "Don't you go doing that again."

He reaches behind me, swiping through the mess where his cock is still very firmly stuck. It takes all of me to not arch into his touch, willing to take more than my body can handle at this point. He brings his soaked fingers to my lips, waiting for me to open my mouth. My lips part with no hesitation, taking in his fingers and licking every last drop he has to offer.

"See what you fucking did to me? It's leaking all over us both. Now stay still; no more gripping it like that, or we'll be stuck here for hours."

Minutes tick by before he lets out a moan, sliding free from between my thighs along with our shared release, his arms still wrapped tightly around my torso. The heat from his body is keeping me warm despite the chill in the air with the front door still wide open, the wind howling through the night.

"Did you bring clothes?"

I simply nod, not wanting to let go of him just yet. When I first woke up in his cabin, he was distant, not letting me get too close before running, caging me in one moment and leaving the next. This moment isn't one I want to end, having him so close. My fingers absently draw light circles around one of the scars on his stomach, the gnarly slash recent, still a hint of pink around the edges.

"Are you scared?" he asks, pain laced in his tone. Sitting up, I chance a look at him before casting my eyes back down. His stare is intense, boring right fucking through me as his grip tightens on my hips. Truth is, I am. I'm scared this is all just a really elaborate nightmare, and that any moment, I will wake up alone again, that this is all a figment of my deepest desires.

Not fear of him, or what I have seen tonight. The weeks upon weeks of research into what I believe is his kind bring curiosity over fear. So many questions wait on the tip of my tongue, but now isn't the time. He touches my cheek, forcing me to look at him. The fire behind his eyes has settled back to darkness, his blackened orbs raking up and down my body, taking in every single detail. Red impact points bloom on my hips from his rough touch, something I welcomed at the time, a bite of pain to distract my mind, whirring with thoughts that took me away from what was happening.

"We have a lot to talk about," I whisper, breaking the silence. The tense, dragging silence is a heady question lingering in the air. My skin prickles as I look around, finding the carnage from tonight, bumping my heart rate up when my eyes settle on it.

The mess on the floor, a mere shadow off to the side with a crimson ring seeping into the wood beneath it.

It doesn't feel real, having him gone completely, wiped from the Earth in a matter of minutes. It's as though, for the first time in years, I can take a full, deep breath, the air filling my lungs with less of a struggle than usual. A sense of pure fucking relief fills me, despite everything happening inside my head. This moment is something I dreamt of, thought about more than I wish to admit.

"We will have plenty of time to talk once we're out of this place."

Walking over to my bag at the kitchen counter, I grab a pair of panties and leggings, pulling them on before shrugging into the spare hoodie I brought with me. The plan was to come here for information, then stay at the local hotel before making my way back home in the morning, so I packed reasonably light. Enough to get me through a day or two at most, not wanting to linger in a place like this for long, waiting for the small flame remaining inside me to be snuffed.

Ryker makes his way up the stairs, his feet dropping heavy on each one, echoing through the house. Stanton mentioned that my mother was dosed up on pills earlier, but she has slept through a lot of noise. Either she really has taken a turn over the years and is heavily sedated, or she isn't in the house to begin with. The noises coming from Stanton and Ryker would have woken the dead.

Thunderous footsteps pound down the stairs, revealing Ryker dressed in a pair of sweatpants low on his hips. Each time I look at him, my cheeks heat, a blush creeping across them at the sight. Gone is the man I once knew, the one who got me out and saved me from a life of misery under this roof. In his place is a fucking god, one who has awaken a dormant side of me that has never seen the light of day.

Not even a hint of desire has licked at my core for as long as I can remember, besides the butterflies I felt in those rare moments alone with him when we were teenagers—the stolen looks, watching movies in each other's arms while his dad was at work and my mom was living her best trophy wife life. Men have tried and failed over the years, their attention leaving a sick feeling in my stomach, the acid rising in my throat quicker than their horrific words.

With Ryker, on the other hand, all it takes is one look. One stolen glance, and it douses that small flame in kerosene, my body burning from the inside out with need. I need to be closer to him, to feel his touch on my skin.

"Like what you see, Lyra?" He moves to my bag, slinging one strap over his shoulder with a small smirk tipping his lips. "I can scent you getting excited again, but we need to get out of here."

"Is she.." Before I even finish my question, his head shakes, the black strands of his hair falling back in front of his eyes. I don't know why I even asked, to be honest. Even if she was up there passed out, what would I do? Go in and have a heart-to-heart with my dear mother in hopes that her subconscious would hear me?

Hey, it's the daughter you fucked over, remember her? The same one you gave to your new husband in exchange for the fancy new life? Your pretty little daughter who you watched get raped while you stood at the door? Hope you're fucking happy x o x o

"She snuck out while that was all happening, slinking off like the fucking coward she is. I found this on her nightstand, though."

In the palm of his hand is a golden lighter, my father's name inscribed across the top. I reach out, feeling the cool metal beneath my fingertips. Memories of him flood my mind, of sitting in his favorite chair with a cigar, flicking this lighter around between his fingers. Why would she still have this when she hated my father with a passion?

"Come on. Let's go. I have Axel waiting out front to take us back to your place."

His hand slips through mine, pulling me toward the door with enough force that I trip, his grip on my hand the only thing keeping me from face-planting. Sure enough, idling in the drive is a blacked-out car, similar to the one Axel drove me home from the cabin in. The front window slides down, revealing the beast of a man himself in the front seat, a fanged grin thrown in Ryker's direction.

"Gas is in the back. Need any help?"

"Keep the car running. Don't feel like mauling the cops, so be ready to drive. Eyes around her, not on her, or I will gouge them from your skull."

Axel tips his head back and laughs while Ryker rounds the car and throws my bag into the trunk, pulling out a red container with a yellow lid. It takes a moment for me to register exactly what's happening as he opens the lid, tipping the liquid onto the ground and running into the house. He's going to burn it down.

Tense minutes tick by, Axel watching the road and occasionally glancing in my general direction but otherwise not saying a word. Crashes and thumps sound from inside, glass shattering upstairs. I can feel the relief already, knowing that the place will be no longer, that Stanton is no longer. It's exactly what he deserves.

Ryker backs out of the house, throwing the red container through the door before moving in front of me. He smells of smoke and gasoline, willing me even closer to him as he grasps my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"You wanna light this bitch up? Get rid of the house of fucking horrors once and for all?"

Not able to speak, I simply nod, taking one last look at the house behind him. The number of memories within those walls, engrained into the very core of it… Muffled screams are trapped in the wallpaper, blood on the concrete in the basement, my innocence stolen at the hands of the devil incarnate now in a heap just inside the door. It deserves to go up in flames, releasing the energy once forced into it, allowing the weight on both of our shoulders to ease.

He nods toward the house, guiding me to the front door. I pull out the lighter he gave me moments ago, flicking the top open as the flame bursts to life. The orange fire whips around with the wind, looking like Ryker's eyes when he had just changed from beast to man, just on the cusp of being out of control.

Kneeling, I settle the flame on a damp patch of wood, watching as the flames shoot into the house, consuming it piece by piece right in front of our eyes. He pulls me back, lacing his fingers through mine, his eyes fixed on the house. The heat rolls off it in waves, nearly singeing my hair, but I don't step back. Beams moan before crashing down inside, forcing embers into the night sky. It's beautiful.

Sirens sound in the distance, pulling the two of us from the trance we found ourselves in. A thin sheen of sweat covers my skin as a lone drip rolls down the center of my spine. I have no idea how long we stood here, watching the sins burn away to a crisp.

"Come on, let's go before the authorities get here."