Chapter 16

RYKER

Every single piece of me screams to protect and covet her, to shield her from the darkness of the world. Up until now, I have done my best from a distance, killed anyone who threatened her while stringing along my drop kick of a sperm donor's sad, pitiful life. He deserved to have it drawn out, haunted, to watch his old life pass him by whilst his current existence withered into nothingness. Then, he went and laid his hands on what he knows is mine, fucking up those plans entirely.

Lyra cuddles closer to my side, her soft snores mixing with the low music Axel has on the radio. For the first time tonight, her heart rate has slowed to something comfortable, not excited or stressed. No anxiety, only comfort as her fingers flex against my bare stomach in her sleep.

"Where to from here, man?" Axel whispers, knowing I will be able to hear him clear as day. "The plan's all fucked. I saw him leaving with two souls when I rocked up."

Axel has been a trusted friend since my feet stepped into Hell years ago; like is drawn to like. He helped me through those grueling few weeks when I first became a hellhound, the first few shifts being absolutely brutal to go through solo.

"I sensed it too. The second one was her mother. The bitch snuck out and met her maker."

It's something I will tell her in time, that her mother didn't make it. But now isn't the time to be adding more things to her plate, not when we're about to be raked over coals for what happened back there.

We pull up just outside the apartment doors, the looming cityscape making me shiver. This many people in one place is uncomfortable on an average day, but at the moment, things are heightened for me, the pull to her being stronger than it has ever been, and the girl is plastered to my side. Every hint of emotion she feels smacks me in the face, the rest of the world a light hum in the background.

I reach down, pushing a few strands of hair off her face and tucking them behind her ear. She's so peaceful like this, and I know that within a few moments, the last twenty-four hours is going to hit her—seeing my father, witnessing what she did, me being back. All of it.

"Baby, we're back," I breathe, slightly shaking her shoulder. Those stunning green eyes blink a few times before looking up at me, a slight smile spreading across her lips. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

Lyra reaches into her bag, pulling out the set of keys with protection gear hanging from them, black and silver dangles beneath her hands with hidden blades and alarms in various forms. It was all gifted to her by Void, who I'm guessing will be waiting just on the other side of that door with a snarl.

Her eyes drop to the ground, still saying nothing as she guides me into her home. Embarrassment washes over her, seeping from her pores. I hate her feeling like this, that darkness she's so familiar with seeping back in. She is slowly building her walls back up, brick by fucking brick.

Invading her space, I take her jaw in my hands and crash my lips to hers, feeling her emotions warp beneath my touch. She wouldn't know that this is my first kiss, something sacred. Honestly, she's probably assuming the worst of me. For so long, I have fucking waited for a moment like this, to be able to be with her a little more freely, to have her touching me back rather than admiring from a distance. My little obsession.

The kiss isn't sweet—it's consuming. It's everything not only she needed, but I did too. She will have a lot of questions, but I want her in a position to be able to hear the answers first. Seeing my father would have thrown her enough, but seeing the result of my primal reaction to his hands on her skin and the venom of his words… Fucking hell.

My hands roam her body, settling on every single curve before picking her up and wrapping her legs around my torso. I walk us over to her counter, sitting her ass on the cool marble and settling between her thighs. The warmth of her pussy on my stomach has my cock stirring, despite getting its fill mere hours ago. Here I was, thinking my addiction to the girl couldn't get any stronger, yet here we are.

"Pour yourself a glass of wine and take a second to breathe."

I kiss her forehead, running my thumbs along her cheeks. She's feeling vulnerable, exposed emotionally for the first time in a long time. I get that because I feel it too. The difference is, I'm able to sense what she's feeling, her emotions. When her heart rate starts to climb looking at me, or the lust that pours from her when I touch her skin. She knows little about me, other than the fact that I can turn into a bear-sized hellhound and that I have killed multiple men in front of her. Men is probably a loose term for the scum bags, but still.

Lyra hasn't said a word since she lit the house on fire, closing herself back into the safe zone she created, the bubble around her that no one has been able to penetrate for years, her own prison with ten foot fences laced with barbed wire.

A hint of confusion washes over her the moment I walk down the hall, knowing exactly where her bathroom is. If only she knew just how much I know this apartment, how often I have been within its walls. I've been waiting for a moment like this one, when I could treat her how I have always wanted.

Filtering through the countless bottles of salts and soaks on her bathroom vanity, I find my favorite one. The vanilla hits my nostrils before anything else, strong and sweet, mixed with the scent of her—it's my drug of choice. Making sure the water is hot enough to burn a demon, just how she likes it, I shake the bottle, emptying most of it into the tub. The steam alone has me inhaling deeply, a warm feeling settling within my chest.

I feel her coming before I see her, rounding the corner with a glass in her hand and a sense of fucking dread dripping from her pores. After this conversation, she may very well hate me, wanting to claw my eyes out with her blunt nails. Good luck to her; I will probably enjoy it at her hands.

"Come on. Hop in, and I will explain everything."

Her nostrils flare, a thread of defiance showing through already. She takes a mouthful of the crisp white wine as small droplets of condensation run over her fingers. I resist the urge to run my tongue along them, chasing each bit of water that caresses her skin. She looks down at herself, then at the doorway before pinning those green eyes on me. If she thinks I'm leaving the room for her, she has another thing coming.

"Get undressed and into the bath, Lyra, or I will do it for you. My cock was inside you a few hours ago, and I have seen you naked more times than I care to admit right now."

I remove the wine from her hand, carefully placing the delicate glass on the floor beside the bath. She will likely want it within arm's reach for what I am going to tell her. Slowly peeling off her layers, she stands in front of me with just a pair of panties covering her, averting her eyes. She draws in a sharp breath, her hands covering the curves of her stomach and her chest. Did she not understand how much I wanted to see her, how fucking perfect she is?

A low growl rumbles through my chest at the thought of her feeling this way in front of me, but I have no right. None. She has no idea I have been here all along, that I have pined for her from a distance, sneaking looks when she sleeps, my fingers running over her soft skin. Moving to the vanity, I pull out two candles and the set of matches, lighting them before switching the overhead light off.

Reluctantly, she walks up to the bath and rolls her panties down her thighs, dipping her toes into the searing water. A low moan escapes her lips when she realizes it's exactly what she likes, almost hot enough to remove flesh from bone. The pain would be wild for her, burning every inch of skin she submerges, but she doesn't flinch. No, she relishes it.

Sitting on the small stool at the end of the bath, I lean back against the wall, my arms across my chest, waiting for the onslaught I know she is bursting to give me, the thousands of questions waiting on the tip of her tongue.

Bubbles cover most of the surface of the water, with only hints of her nipples peeking through as she rests her neck on the rim of the bath. What I wouldn't give to be raking my teeth over them, feeling her writhe under me as I mark her skin. Fuck.

"Are you going to leave again?" she asks, her gaze pinned to the ceiling.

Ahh. It all makes a little more sense. Her sudden coldness, the silence. She has been building that wall, as expected, but she thinks this is temporary, not understanding that the bond between us is solidified, that the pull she feels is stronger now, as well as her emotions. Everything she felt before she feels now is just magnified to different levels.

"No."

My reaper may be pissed; he will want me punished for what happened. I will be in a world of trouble and likely made an example of, but things demons don't fuck with are bonds, one of the few sacred things they actually have some respect for. Was I supposed to let that happen so soon? No. But in the heat of the moment, the control I had been holding all these years fucking snapped, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Chancing a look at me, her eyes well up with unshed tears, reflecting the flames from around the room. Her emotions are raw and unfiltered, painful. I wish I could take that away for her. They are enough to keep me satiated for weeks, not needing to siphon from another soul.

"I…I just got you back last time, and then you left. You fucking left me alone after showing me you were still here, that you hadn't died like I assumed you had, gone without a trace."

"I did die, Lyra. I know you have researched what I am. You saw with your own two eyes what I become."