17. Rule Number Eight

CHAPTER 17

Rule Number Eight

T hree days later, Brynleigh stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself before applying a fresh face of makeup. She was getting ready for a date, and she felt…

Nothing.

Brynleigh felt nothing because she refused to let herself experience emotions right now.

Rule number eight: emotions are for mortals, not vampires.

The day she'd returned from the library when Ryker had shared about his father, she had shoved all her feelings deep in her soul and locked them tightly away. She would never let them out.

It was easier this way.

If she were emotionless, then Ryker's words wouldn't affect her. His kindness wouldn't affect her. His grief over his father's illness wouldn't touch her heart. It couldn't. After all, the Choosing was almost over.

She was so close. Today, they weren't meeting in the library. Following an old tradition, the men had planned blind one-on-one dates with a partner of their choice.

If Brynleigh had allowed herself to feel emotions, her stomach would have been in knots. But it wasn't because she was numb. A blank slate. A weapon of death, nothing more .

Brynleigh was confident Ryker would invite her on his date. After all, he was enamored with her.

And Brynleigh?

She was definitely not falling in love with Ryker. That would be impossible because there was no way she would ever love the man who'd killed her family.

Anytime Brynleigh felt any emotions around Ryker, she shoved them down. Ignorance was bliss, after all.

When her fangs ached in his presence, she refused to acknowledge the desire blooming within her. Whenever his laugh made her feel a certain way, she bundled up those feelings and stuffed them deep inside. Every time he haunted her dreams, she woke up and refused to fall back asleep lest she think of him again.

She was the master of her emotions, not the other way around.

Fishing out cherry red lipstick from her makeup bag, Brynleigh applied it carefully to her lips. She needed the armor her makeup provided today more than ever before.

"You fucking hate him," she told her reflection sternly. "You hate him, you hate him, you hate him."

Why did the word hate sound suspiciously like another four-letter word? Something banned that she absolutely could not be feeling.

No.

This was not alright.

She hated Ryker Waterborn because that was the only acceptable response. Her mother, the gods be with her soul, had always said that love and hate were two sides to the same coin.

Brynleigh couldn't love Ryker. Her hate was just… different now that she knew him.

That was it.

She would keep reminding herself of that fact, over and over and over again until it was true.

A knock came on the door, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"One minute." Brynleigh placed the lid on her lipstick and wrapped her hair in a second towel before heading over and opening the door. "Yes?"

Matron Lilith stood in the hallway and grinned up at Brynleigh. " Mail delivery." Giggling like a schoolgirl, she handed the vampire an envelope. "You're in for a treat, my dear. Of all the dates planned for today, yours is the most intriguing."

Brynleigh's stomach fucking flipped . It somersaulted within her as though she was a teenager, not a fully grown woman, and a deadly vampire.

She grabbed that nervous excitement and forced it deep inside herself. There was no reason for her to be excited about going on a date with Ryker. No reason to wonder what they were doing or whether she'd enjoy it.

This was nothing but a means to a bloody end.

Closing her eyes, Brynleigh inhaled and forced herself to pull up memories she rarely thought of. She remembered the screaming, the burning of her lungs, the deluge of water pouring from the sky. Her heart raced at the recollection of seeing a tall man cloaked in shadows standing next to a smaller form at the edge of the forest.

That memory had haunted Brynleigh for months after her Making.

Jelisette had filled in the blanks for her progeny. The man wasn't a man at all but a water fae. A captain in the army. He wouldn't be prosecuted for the deaths he'd caused. Nothing would happen to him at all because his mother was a Representative.

That was why Jelisette was helping Brynleigh. As a new vampire, no one would see her coming, making her the perfect weapon to teach the Representatives a lesson.

A hand landed on Brynleigh's arm, pulling her out of her thoughts. The Matron must have mistaken the vampire's pause for excitement because her smile was kind. "I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time with the captain. Go ahead and finish getting ready. I'll return to escort you in an hour."

Brynleigh thanked her and slipped the door shut. Letting the towel fall, she strode to the chair where her duffle bag sat. Tossing the envelope on the bed, she fished through her bag until she found the folded-up picture she sought.

Silver lined Brynleigh's eyes as she gently unfolded the paper and ran a finger down the creases.

A beautiful, smiling face with dirty blonde hair stared up at Brynleigh. A moment captured in time, a memory lost in a torrent of water.

Brynleigh wiped away a tear and sniffled. "I miss you," she whispered. "I'm getting closer, and I promise you, he's going to pay for what he did."

There was no answer. Of course not. Sarai's voice had been stolen that night, along with her life. This picture had been taken days before the hurricane. Sarai's blue eyes sparkled with joy, and her mouth was wide open, caught in a candid moment as she laughed at someone off-camera. She wore denim shorts and a red crop top. It had been her favorite outfit that summer.

Brynleigh had taken this picture, along with several others, but this was the only one that survived the tempest. It had been in her pocket when the storm struck.

The longer Brynleigh looked at the image, the angrier she got. Her shadows vibrated in her veins, red seeped into her vision, and she clenched her fists.

This emotion, this bone-deep anger, she kept. It was safe. Good, even. It wouldn't hurt her or break her heart.

Brynleigh let the anger grow until it was all she felt. She would not fail. She hated Ryker Waterborn for what he did, and he deserved what was coming to him.

Eventually, Brynleigh glanced at the clock. Over half an hour had passed, and she needed to finish getting dressed. She carefully refolded the picture and slipped it into her bag.

Rummaging through her things, she found the perfect dress. It was tight and hugged her curves in all the right ways. The sleeves were long, and the scoop neckline allowed her pendant to settle freely between her breasts. The hem fell midway down her thighs. She slipped on black heels and stepped into the bathroom to admire her handiwork.

Brynleigh tilted her head, her gaze assessing. A beautiful, deadly vampire smiled back at her. Her hair tumbled over her left shoulder. Black eyes stared back at her. Red lips highlighted her fangs.

All vampires were almost painfully beautiful—it was one of their gifts from the goddess of the moon—but the spark in Brynleigh's eyes had nothing to do with her beauty and everything to do with her impending revenge.

Crossing her legs, Brynleigh tapped the air with her foot. When it was time for Brynleigh's date, Matron Lilith had been waiting for her with Harper, one of the guards. He'd blindfolded Brynleigh before leading her to this room.

That was ten minutes ago.

Most vampires were patient, but that wasn't a skill Brynleigh excelled at. As a human, she'd never been good at waiting. That trait had carried over into her vampiric life.

Matron Lilith had handed Brynleigh a glass of blood wine before she left. Brynleigh sipped it now, letting the stillness of the room settle around her. She wasn't sure what their date would be, but she was certain Ryker had put a lot of thought into it.

If there was one thing Brynleigh knew for certain after a month of nearly daily conversations with the captain, the fae didn't do anything halfway.

Neither did she.

It was fitting. He truly was a worthy opponent in the game she was playing. Too bad he would have to lose.

Two heavy sets of footsteps came from the hallway.

Brynleigh tilted her head in the direction of the sound. The blindfold amplified her other already strong senses. Their heartbeats were steady, rhythmic drums in their chests as they approached, beating nearly twice as fast as hers.

The door creaked open, the hinges proclaiming their need for oil to the world.

Brynleigh moved gingerly, feeling for a space on the table for her wine before letting go. When it didn't spill, she exhaled and turned her head towards the entrance.

"Right this way, Captain." She recognized Harper's voice.

Her spine tingled, and her shadows flared within her. Ryker was here.

If his scent had been a mighty river on the day he sneaked into the infirmary, tonight, it was an Isvana-damned tsunami. There was no barrier between them. No wall to protect her from him. No AI to filter his voice.

The flimsy black blindfold was the only thing keeping her from experiencing all of him. It was hardly anything at all.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she flushed.

An adverse reaction to his presence. That's what that was.

More emotions had the gall to rise within Brynleigh. She struggled to rein them in. She didn't give herself time to think about what they were or what they meant before she pushed them down. It was far more difficult than before. Nearly impossible.

Ryker smelled so fucking good. So right. So delicious.

There wasn't a single part of Brynleigh that didn't light up at the familiar aroma. Her skin prickled. Her shadows sang. Her eyes widened beneath the blindfold. And her fangs.

Her goddess-damned fangs .

Had she thought they ached when she first heard his voice? This was a hundred times worse than that. Now they were twin flames, burning in her gums. An overwhelming urge to leap from her seat and sink her fangs into his neck coursed through her. She gripped the table, the wood cracking beneath her touch.

Under no circumstances could Brynleigh ever taste Ryker.

Fuck, this was bad.

She shoved those illicit emotions and that awful desire she had no business feeling deep, deep, deep within her soul.

Brynleigh could do this. She'd once called herself a master of compartmentalization. She could keep everything separate and make it to their wedding night.

This was all an act. Like a masterful fisherwoman, Brynleigh was luring Ryker in. She was the predator and the bait. That must be why she felt like this. She was just very good fucking bait. Too good, if the twisting in her core and the dampness between her thighs were any sign.

Brynleigh's body was just… reacting to Ryker's. That was to be expected, right? She was a vampire, and he was a fae with a delectable scent, so naturally, she wanted to devour him .

It didn't mean anything.

Saying the words was one thing. Convincing herself they were true was another matter entirely.

Brynleigh pictured her sister in her mind and held her there as she drew a series of deep breaths. By the third exhale, she felt more normal. Or at least, less… drawn to Ryker.

She could do this.

For her family.

For her revenge.

For herself.

The guard was still in the room. Brynleigh sensed the man behind her, but his masculine scent did nothing for her. Unlike Ryker's.

You can end this now , a voice niggled at the back of Brynleigh's mind. Get it over with.

She could do it. She was certainly strong enough to overpower two men. But that wasn't the plan. If she acted now, she'd have no chance of escaping. No shot at freedom. Brynleigh was certain Jelisette would be displeased if she acted out of line.

Patience was key. She couldn't throw away years of planning because the captain smelled good.

That would be completely and utterly ridiculous.

Killing Ryker on their wedding night would send a message to his family and all Representatives: the way they flaunted the Republic's laws and acted without consequence had gone on long enough.

She had to stick to the plan, meaning she had to get out of her head and focus on the fae in front of her. Her mark.

Brynleigh reached out, intent on grabbing her glass of blood wine when her index finger grazed something warm.

She froze. Her heart stopped beating. Her lungs seized. Her shadows became ice in her veins.

They were touching.

And it…

Gods damn it all, but it did not feel bad. It did not feel like she was touching the man who murdered her family.

It felt like…

Home .

Brynleigh's head swam as lightheadedness threatened to pull her under.

This was…

It was…

Too much.

It wasn't enough.

Fuck.

She could barely think.

Then, instead of pulling away and giving her the space she desperately needed, Ryker's fingers traced up her hand. He clasped her wrist, wrapping his much larger fingers around her.

Brynleigh's heart chose that moment to remember it was supposed to be beating. Now, it tried to escape her chest.

How was it possible that in all her planning, she'd never accounted for the fact that he might touch her? Here she was, playing the game of her lifetime, and somehow, she had completely overlooked this possibility.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, having exploded within her at the point of contact. She scrambled to gather them all, shoving each one deep inside. How many could it hold? How many emotions could she suppress before they ruined her?

She wasn't certain.

All Brynleigh knew was that Ryker was touching her, and it felt like they were stepping onto a new game board. One where she didn't know the rules.

She was more frightened than she'd been since the night her family died.