“I almost killed her,” I whisper.
“She’s alive.” He cups my face tenderly despite the sternness of his voice. “That’s more than she deserves after what she pulled.”
Trysten approaches, expression unreadable. “I’ll get her to the healers.” He glances between Sienna and Ryker. “And I’ll call Rhoan.”
Ryker nods, already turning with me in his arms. We pass Kuron and Rune on the steps. Kuron’s eyes are wide, his jaw clenched. Ryker speaks calmly, “She’s okay. I’ve got her.”
Neither of them responds.
No one says a word. No one meets our eyes. As we pass, they vanish into the stone and shadows like they were never there at all.
Inside his room, Ryker carries me to the bathroom and turns on the shower. Steam curls up, fogging the mirror. I stand motionless. Numb. Somewhere deep inside, I know I’m shaking, but I can’t tell if it’s from cold, shock, or horror. All I see is Sienna’s face, twisted in agony. Blisters. My hands. My power.
Ryker’s hands, cool and firm, lift my paint-soaked shirt. I feel the slow drag of fabric against my skin, a stark contrast to the burning shame that still prickles inside. “I almost killed her.” I murmur again, the words tasting like ash. “And it’s recorded.”
His gaze, unwavering, follows the path as he lifts my sports bra. “They’ll know,” I whisper, a single hot tear tracing a path down my cheek. “Everyone will know.”
My sports bra lands with a splatter sound on the tile just before his warm hands cup my cheeks. “What will they know?” he asks, his voice so soft and sweet.
“That I’m a monster.” The words tear from me, trembling and broken. “They recorded it.”
Ryker’s expression doesn’t flinch. “No,” he says, voice low and firm. “The recordings were shut down a minute in, right after she swung at you. I made sure of it. And my people are already on the rest. Nothing’s getting out.” He says it like a promise. Like an order already fulfilled. But it doesn’t quiet the voice in my head.
Monster. Monster. Monster.
I look away. “Maybe the elder was right. Maybe I do fear my power. Because I could’ve—” My voice cracks. Ryker steps closer. His thumb brushing away a tear. But there’s no fear in his eyes.
“You think you’re a monster,” he murmurs. “But all I saw was strength.” His voice lowers, reverent. “Don’t be afraid of what’s yours.”
When I turn my face, unable to look at him any longer, he says, “Soraea.” His voice is low and commanding, yet not unkind. Ryker cups my cheek, turning my face back to his. “We’ll handle it. But right now, get in the shower.” He starts to move away, but I lunge forward, clutching his shirt.
“No,” I whisper, breath catching. “Please…don’t leave me.” I’m standing before him in nothing but my soaked shorts. Paint-streaked. Broken. Vulnerable. Yet his gaze doesn’t waver—not once. There’s no shame in his eyes. Only heat. And something raw.
Pride.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He walks me to the shower and checks the temperature before guiding me under the spray. The water hits me, and my shoulders tremble. I reach for the waistband of my shorts, peeling them down slowly. I stay in my underwear. I don’t even care anymore. Ryker stepsin still fully clothed. The water soaks him instantly, but he doesn’t flinch. He pulls me against him, his hand firm on my back.
“I see you, Soraea,” he murmurs, voice thick with something reverent. “Iknowyou. You’re not a monster.” My resolve finally breaks. The tears I held back crash into him like a flood. He just holds me tighter.
He stays like that—anchored to me—as the water runs hot over both of us. For what feels like an hour, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just holds me as I shatter. And when my sobs begin to slow, he presses a kiss to the top of my head. Then, gently, he reaches for the shampoo.
He washes my hair. Once. Twice. A third time—each time softer than the last, until the red paint is gone. Then my back, slow and methodical.
When his hand hovers at my front, he doesn’t touch me. He offers the sponge, silent, eyes locked on mine. The intimacy of it all kills me. Not because it’s too much. But because part of me wants it. Wantshim. Even after everything.
My hands tremble as I clean myself. I keep seeing it—Sienna’s face twisted in pain, the blistering heat under my hands. All of this—overhim.
When I’m rinsed, he shuts off the water. Before I can even think, he’s wrapping a towel around my body. Then, without hesitation, he strips, discarding his soaked clothes in a pile at his feet. His body is powerful, and he looks…dangerous. My eyes drop, involuntarily taking all of him in—and when they rise to meet his again, he’s watching me with something unreadable.
Not shame.
Not restraint.
Almost…regret. But also desire. And something more dangerous—certainty. He gives me a sad smile. “C’mon. Let’s get you dressed.”
A few minutes later, I’m curled up in his bed, swallowed in one of his shirts. I’m waiting for clean clothes from Aolyn, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Ryker pulls the blankets over me and slides in behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist. He’s warm. Solid. Unmoving.
