22. Death is the Only Alternative

CHAPTER 22

Death is the Only Alternative

B rynleigh's container of emotions was dangerously close to overflowing. Everything had been going well until she locked eyes with Ryker and tumbled headfirst into a spiral of feelings. No matter how much she shoved them down, they insisted on making a reappearance.

After Ryker's proposal, seven more couples got engaged. That was a record number for the Choosing, and the air in the ballroom was one of absolute delight. Chancellor Rose took the stage and spoke for a few minutes about how pleased she was with the outcome of the Two-Hundredth Choosing. According to her, it was a sign of prosperity and good things to come for the Republic of Balance.

Brynleigh wasn't so sure. She noticed the guards lining the walls behind the Chancellor, their presence a reminder of the unrest outside these walls. No one else seemed to mind them, though. Maybe Brynleigh was wrong, and the worst had passed.

The stringed orchestra picked up their instruments before Brynleigh could delve too far into those thoughts. They began to play, their lyrical music stunningly beautiful.

Ryker turned to Brynleigh. A radiant smile shone on the water fae's face .

Guilt stabbed Brynleigh in the gut.

Ryker was so happy, and she was a terrible person for stringing him along. He had no idea about her true intentions. How could he? She was supposed to be marrying him for love, or at least the potential for love.

Instead, she was playing him.

"Dance with me?" Ryker dipped into a low, old-fashioned, courtly bow and held out his hand. A lock of his hair—a brown several shades darker than his chocolate eyes—fell forward, but he made no effort to brush it away.

Brynleigh stared at his hand, the inviting gesture drawing her towards him. She shouldn't dance with the handsome water fae. It was a very bad idea. The offer alone made yet another pesky feeling that she refused to acknowledge sprout up within her, and she shoved it deep down.

But it would be rude if she ignored him… right?

All around them, other couples danced. The muscular dragon shifter, Therian, spun Hallie in a circle. Her wings fluttered behind her, and they both laughed as he lifted her off the ground. They were a cute couple, especially with the way the dragon shifter towered over the smaller woman.

Less delightful was the couple dancing beside them. The second-to-last proposal had been from Edward, a fae, to Valentina. Brynleigh didn't know his affinity, but seeing as the fire fae had accepted his hand, she assumed he was powerful. Brynleigh would be watching them both carefully. Whoever put up with Valentina was either a saint or as horrible as she was.

Ryker was still waiting patiently for Brynleigh to accept his offer to dance.

For a long moment, she stared at his hand while her internal debate raged. She was moments away from declining when she felt a heavy gaze bore into her. She glanced up, and a familiar pair of black eyes met hers.

Brynleigh swallowed at the sight of her Maker.

Jelisette's gown matched her progeny's, except hers was a blue so dark it was almost black. She wore a matching mask that covered the top half of her face, but Brynleigh recognized her Maker on sight .

Standing next to Jelisette, wearing a crisp black suit, was Zanri. The shifter wore a tiger mask, his eyes sharp as he gazed through it. His red hair hung loosely around him, giving him a wild edge in this room full of polished people.

Jelisette's black eyes narrowed and locked onto Brynleigh's. The message hidden within them was clear: don't mess this up .

Brynleigh didn't intend to. Calling Zanri for a helpful reminder of why she was doing this was one thing, but being faced with her Maker was another. If Brynleigh admitted she was struggling with emotions, Jelisette wouldn't hesitate to punish her. She'd made that abundantly clear several months ago.

"Never forget, Brynleigh, death is the only alternative to winning." Jelisette's piercing gaze met Brynleigh's from across the chess board. Like Brynleigh, she wore a thick sweater as snow fell lazily outside.

Bobbing her head, Brynleigh picked up the black queen and twisted it in her hands before placing it across the board. "Of course."

Her Maker smiled, but there wasn't a drop of warmth in the gesture. Instead, the sight of Jelisette's sharp fangs sent a shiver down Brynleigh's back. Had Brynleigh been mortal, she would've screamed at the sight. This was a woman who killed without compunction, and she had no problem handing out punishments as she saw fit.

"Wonderful." Jelisette picked up her knight and took Brynleigh's rook.

Fuck. How had she missed that?

Brynleigh stared at the board, trying to think of a way out of the inevitable checkmate as Jelisette added, "Never forget, you must always be planning several steps ahead."

"I won't fail you."

Those words echoed in Brynleigh's head as she broke eye contact with Jelisette. Hoping her Maker couldn't sense the turmoil churning beneath her skin, Brynleigh dipped her head and forced a smile on her face as she retracted her wings. "I'd be delighted to dance, Ry."

She would just make sure there were no emotions involved.

Ryker smiled and took Brynleigh's hand in his. She ignored the way it felt good to be touched by him, ignored those sparks running up her arm as he led her onto the dance floor.

The first song wasn't too bad. The orchestra played a slow waltz, and she mostly succeeded in hiding her two left feet and keeping emotions out of this.

That wasn't the end of it, though.

The songs kept coming. She thought that after the first, they'd be done, but no. They danced and danced.

Damn it all, but this activity with Ryker was far more enjoyable than Brynleigh would ever admit. He moved with grace and ease, unencumbered by his tailored black suit.

Each wave of music, each dance, each moment Brynleigh spent in Ryker's arms chipped away at her resolve to keep emotions out of this situation.

It wasn't her fault. Not really. From a purely physical standpoint, Captain Ryker Waterborn was a well-built, muscular, tall fae. His jaw was chiseled, his ears were pointed, and a fire in his eyes burned brighter every time he looked at her.

"Do you trust me?" Ryker whispered into her ear, his hand splayed across her lower back as they danced their fifth song in a row.

There was a multitude of reasons why she shouldn't. And yet, as Brynleigh stared into Ryker's eyes, she nodded. "Yes."

Her eyes widened at the admission and the truth behind it. What did that mean? She couldn't trust him. She knew what he'd done.

And yet…

She didn't take back her statement.

Ryker's grip tightened on Brynleigh's hand. His eyes sparkled, and he spun her away from him before twirling her back. Brynleigh couldn't help it. She giggled like a love-sick schoolgirl. Ryker brought something out in her that she couldn't label.

It had to be his handsomeness. That was the only logical reason for this kind of reaction.

After all, Brynleigh wasn't the only one who noticed how good-looking her fiancé was. As they spun across the dance floor, she caught sight of several other women and even a few men eyeing Ryker with unmasked lust.

Brynleigh wanted to snarl at each of them to keep their eyes to themselves. This man, with his sharp jaw and lips made for kissing, was hers .

At least for now.

Was jealousy a bad emotion? Should she shove it down like the others? She wasn't sure if it was dangerous or not. It certainly wasn't as awful as the feeling that had welled up within her when he proposed.

That one, she refused to name. If she didn't label it, it wasn't real.

Except it felt far too fucking real. All of this did.

Ryker's gaze never wavered from Brynleigh's. His hand was a brand against her back. Even as he led them across the dance floor, he made her feel seen in a way that no one else ever had. It was like he peeled away all the layers of her identity and peered into her soul beneath.

It was extremely unnerving and made it difficult to remember this was all an act. He made her feel like…

No.

She wouldn't even acknowledge that feeling. Whatever it was, she would ignore it until after the life drained from those chocolate brown eyes.

Two more songs went by, and Brynleigh… enjoyed them. Each chord, each note, affected her more than the last.

Thank Isvana, eventually, a hand landed on Brynleigh's arm when they were near the edge of the dance floor.

"Excuse me, mind if I cut in?" Zanri smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his mask.

Ryker turned to the shifter, his face hardening. "Who are you?"

There was a gruffness in Ryker's voice that caused Brynleigh's core to tighten in wholly inappropriate ways. She squeezed her thighs together and turned to the masked shifter. "This is Zanri. I… work with him."

In as much as working meant that Zanri found criminals for Brynleigh to kill. Semantics.

"Ah." Tension slipped from Ryker's shoulders. "Would you like to dance with him?"

Honestly, the only thing Brynleigh wanted was for this entire evening to end. However, since that didn't seem possible, this was a close second. If she danced with Zanri, she could keep those frustrating emotions in check.

"I do," said Brynleigh .

Ryker reluctantly released her before leaning over and kissing her cheek. "I'll be right over there," he whispered. His voice was much firmer when he told Zanri, "One song."

The shifter nodded and led Brynleigh silently onto the dance floor. He drew her close—but not too close—and started swaying. "I hear congratulations are in order."

Brynleigh smiled. "They are."

Zanri spun her. It was nice but didn't compare to Ryker's impressive dance skills.

"And how are you doing?" he asked when he drew her back in.

That was a loaded question. There were many ways she could answer. Confused. Antsy. Emotional. Torn up inside. In the end, she asked for clarification. "You mean with rule number ten?" Her voice was low, meant only for Zanri.

He nodded. "Yes."

"I'm… alright." Lie. Her box was filled to the brim with illicit emotions. But what else could she say?

Twice now, Ryker had declared his love for her. Both times, she hadn't said anything. Lying to him was one thing, but proclaiming false love was another. It was a step too far, even for her.

Brynleigh had never said those words to anyone, and she wouldn't start now.

"You must stay strong, B." Zanri's soft voice was firm and grounding, as if he knew the inner turmoil she was experiencing.

"I will." Brynleigh nodded, trying to convince herself of the fact.

Somehow, her voice was unwavering despite the storm churning within her.

The shifter squeezed her hands. "You must."

Again, Brynleigh wondered at the forcefulness in Zanri's voice. Maybe it was just her time away from the safe house, but he seemed so… insistent. It struck Brynleigh as odd. Why was he pushing this? He didn't have anything at stake.

But then the song ended. Zanri stepped aside, and Ryker took his place.

The fae's hand settled on the small of her back again, and he pulled her close. His eyes searched hers. "Are you okay? "

No. She was so far from okay that she couldn't even remember what that felt like.

She couldn't say that, so instead, she said, "Yes."

His gaze searched hers, and his thumb rubbed circles on her exposed back. All night, he'd been touching her. It was gods-damned distracting and made it hard for her to think.

"You can tell me the truth, Brynleigh," he murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

That was the last thing she could do.

If Ryker knew the truth of who she was and what she was doing there, this would all be for naught. He would either throw her in prison or finish the job he started six years ago. She imagined he'd be pissed if he learned about her true intentions.

Remaining silent didn't seem like it would work, though, so she looked out to the crowd. Several people were still watching her fae. Their gazes followed him, the lust evident as they blatantly checked him out. It was as good of an excuse as any. "People are looking at you."

Ryker's brown eyes twinkled at the tone of Brynleigh's voice. His lips twisted up into a devilish smirk, revealing…

Fucking great. Of course, the incredibly handsome water fae she was supposed to kill had dimples.

Why not?

He sported a pair of them, one on each cheek, and they only added to his attractiveness. It wasn't fair for one person to be blessed with such good looks. Couldn't the gods have thrown a wart on his face, or perhaps given him a crooked nose? Something to make him be not so… so… beautiful.

And fuck, he was perfect. Brynleigh felt like she had done a pretty good job of ignoring that fact until now, but it was becoming impossible.

"Why, sweetheart, are you jealous?" Ryker's deep, smoky voice was low as he spun her across the dance floor in a move she could never have done on her own.

Her cheeks heated. "No, I'm not."

Ryker whirled her through the air, the crimson fabric swirling around her. He settled her back on her feet, his gaze darkening as he looked her over.

"You lie so beautifully, little vampire." He held her so close that she could feel his heart beating in his chest.

Brynleigh had no words. She was lying… just not about what he thought. Her entire persona was nothing more than a facade. At least, that's what she kept telling herself. The problem was that the longer she remained in close contact with Ryker, the more difficult it was to remember what, exactly, she was lying about.

Thank Isvana, Ryker didn't seem to mind her silence. A baritone chuckle rumbled through him, and they continued dancing as the music picked up.

Several songs later, Brynleigh's throat was dry. She slowed, lifting her hand off Ryker's arm and rubbing the base of her throat absentmindedly.

Instantly, Ryker's gaze darkened and locked on her hand. "Thirsty?"

Was she? Many desires pulsed through her, most of them illicit. There was only one she could give into right now.

She nodded, and he led her towards the bar.

A masked Death Elf with red markings crawling up his right hand put down the glass he was polishing as they approached. "Good evening, and congratulations on your engagement."

"Thank you." Brynleigh smiled at the bartender.

Ryker's hand never left Brynleigh's as he ordered a glass of blood wine for her and a beer for himself. Brynleigh usually took offense to men ordering for her. It was demeaning since she was more than capable of placing her own requests. But something was endearing about the way Ryker seamlessly took charge. To her eternal chagrin, Brynleigh liked it.

The bartender returned with their drinks in short order. Ryker thanked the man and took the glasses before tilting his head towards a shadowy alcove near the back of the ballroom.

"Come with me?" he asked in that rough voice of his.

A shiver ran down Brynleigh's spine, and her breath caught in her throat. She shouldn't be alone with Ryker. That could only lead to bad things. She knew that, and yet, she didn't say no. Not yet .

The prudent choice—the right choice, the rule-following choice—would be to stay with the crowd. She shouldn't be alone with him, couldn't afford for more emotions to try and get the better of her.

Rules six and eight popped into Brynleigh's head, reminding her of all the reasons this was a terrible idea. But just one time, she didn't want to follow the rules. She wanted to go with Ryker. Besides, they weren't truly alone. Others were here. They would be secluded but not isolated.

What harm could come from bending the rules this one time? Probably nothing.

"I'd love to," she said before she could stop herself.

Those damned dimples decorated Ryker's cheeks once again. Handing her the goblet of wine, he laced their fingers together and led her away from the crowd. They garnered a few curious glances, but no one stopped them.

The alcove was dark, hidden behind some large speakers, and it was quieter. Tension left Brynleigh's shoulders, and she exhaled. This was nice. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

For a single moment, she relaxed.

And then she looked up.

Ryker stood right in front of her. Barely a foot separated the two of them. He was all fae, his gaze dark and hungry as it swept over her.

Brynleigh could barely think. Breathing was practically impossible, and speaking was definitely out of the question. He was close. Far too close.

Fuck, this was a bad idea. Maybe the worst one Brynleigh had ever had. That said a lot, because once she'd challenged Zanri to a drinking game involving Faerie Wine and a trashy reality dating show that followed merfolk and sailors as they tried to bridge the divide between their lives and make love work. The next morning, the two of them had been in so much pain that they'd both sworn off the beverage for eternity.

This was worse than that.

Ryker came even closer. His knuckles brushed her cheek, and she practically melted right then and there.

Brynleigh tried to remember the rules, to ground herself in them, but it wasn't working. Her mind was blank, empty of everything except for an awareness of the fae before her.

She closed her eyes, which amplified Ryker's scent until it was all she could smell. Her fangs ached. She wanted to draw nearer. She wanted to leave. Isvana help her, but she had no idea what to do.

She froze.

A finger landed under her chin, and Ryker rumbled, "Look at me, Brynleigh."

The commanding tone of his voice was entirely too pleasing. Brynleigh wasn't ready to dissect that, though. She'd never be ready. She grabbed those feelings and shoved them down, down, down.

When she was certain she wouldn't spontaneously combust, she opened her eyes. "Yes?"

"You were jealous earlier." Not a question. "I liked that."

Her breath caught. Fuck, she had no business enjoying the deep rumble of his words so much. Before she could reply, Ryker bent, slanting his lips over hers. It couldn't be called a kiss because it was barely more than a graze of their mouths. Still, it reverberated in the depth of Brynleigh's soul.

Her heart fluttered, which was a strange experience. A feeling rose. She snatched it, forcing it into away. Whatever it was, if she didn't acknowledge it, she couldn't let it affect her.

"I don't like them looking at us," she said honestly, though she didn't quite know why she was telling Ryker this. "I've never enjoyed being the center of attention. When I was young, I did almost everything to stay out of the spotlight. I never answered questions in school, nor did I speak up. It was easier to blend into the shadows, even then."

Sarai had been loud enough for both of them. She had been vibrant and full of life. Watching her sister bloom like a flower in spring had been a highlight of Brynleigh's life. It was a cruel joke that now, Brynleigh was still alive and in front of the cameras.

"Let them look. I'm drawn to you and no one else." Ryker's voice deepened. "My attentions are firmly where I desire them to be."

He lowered his head, his eyes never leaving hers. Brynleigh's heart pounded in her chest. She stared at his lips, her stomach twisting in what she told herself was dread .

She was a gods-damned liar.

Would he kiss her now? Really, truly kiss her? Would she let him? She had no idea.

Brynleigh watched Ryker's mouth descend upon hers like it was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. Half of her wanted to dart back into the crowd, but the other half held her still, eagerly waiting for that first touch of his mouth against hers.

Anticipation thickened the air between them.

At the last moment, Ryker turned his head and skimmed her lips, kissing the corner of her mouth. She exhaled a breathy moan as his mouth landed on the side of her neck. Against her better judgment—which, to be honest, was hanging on by an Ithiar-damned threat—her eyes fluttered shut.

A thousand curses flew through her head, but not a single one made it to her lips. No was a simple, two-letter word. She should say it. She should stop him. This was wrong on so many levels.

Brynleigh knew all these things, but none of them stopped her from inching towards Ryker. She tilted her head, giving him better access to her neck.

His large, warm hand landed on her hip, pulling her closer. His sharp canines grazed her skin, not biting but sending enough pressure that the space between her thighs dampened. Her heart raced as he kissed a trail down her neck.

Control was careening out of Brynleigh's fingers. Some part of her still possessed enough common sense to realize she needed to maintain some power in their relationship.

Recalling their previous conversation was difficult with his mouth on her, but Brynleigh murmured, "And what if I don't want them looking?"

Truth. She didn't want anyone watching her with Ryker. Not anymore. They'd shared so much with the world already. She wanted to be alone with him and let him kiss her all over. She would let him remove all the barriers between them and take her however he wanted.

Wait.

What?

No .

That was wrong. This was wrong.

She wanted…

Ryker's fingers curled around her hip, and he nipped her. Oh gods. One simple action had no business feeling so good. A tremor ran through Brynleigh, starting at her toes and making its way up her legs and to her core. Her head fell back on a groan. Her glass of wine dangled from her fingers. She forgot everything else. This fae could do whatever he wanted to her.

"Then I'll get rid of them," he growled. "I'll do anything for you."

Darkness was laced in his words, an unveiled threat directed towards anyone that might come between them that Brynleigh liked far too much. She'd never been one to enjoy overt acts of possessiveness, especially not from fae males, but that seemed to be rapidly changing.

Brynleigh could get used to having someone willing to fight for her. She'd been alone for so long.

Except…

No.

What the fuck was she doing? This was incredibly wrong. She couldn't get used to this or let the captain talk to her in this fashion. She wasn't just bending the rules but breaking them all together.

Gods-damn it, what was she thinking? This was a game. She wasn't supposed to let him touch her like this. She wasn't allowed to have any emotions. They were far too dangerous.

Brynleigh's blood chilled, and her fingers spasmed.

The crystal glass tumbled from her hand in slow motion, the liquid spilling out in a red arc and staining the ground in a pool of blood moments before the glass shattered.

Her head ached. A buzzing filled her ears. She needed to get out of here right now. Shadows bubbled in her veins. Control was a foreign concept as her head spun.

There was no losing. Not in this game.

Ryker shouted her name, but she could barely hear him over the roaring. She blinked, trying to clear her head.

His hands landed on her forearms, and his grip was firm but gentle. "What's wrong? "

Mistake, mistake, mistake.

She needed to leave, but the panic…

Tighter and tighter, a fist squeezed her lungs. Air. She sipped it, but it didn't help. She gasped, "I?—"

The power flickered, and then the overhead lights went out.

Someone screamed.

A man yelled, "Take cover!"

Another shouted, "Get the Chancellor!"

"For freedom!" a woman cried out.

Brynleigh's brows furrowed. The hairs on her neck stood on end. Her shadows pulsed in warning. "What?—"

Her next words never came. The ground shook like the gods were throwing furniture around. An explosion.

Something slammed into Brynleigh's neck. Pain bloomed, drawing her into its agonizing embrace.

Someone roared. Arms wrapped around her.

Cold. So fucking cold.

She moaned.

Someone yelled her name.

Everything went black.