Unlike Audrey, who kept every emotion close behind a shield, Ryker’s moods spilled off him in waves. They were unchecked and intoxicating. He could stop it, but he chose not to. An intimidation tactic. His half-lidded eyes dragged over her. Audrey felt it then—a prickle under her skin—like some primeval force had noticed her.
He wanted her to squirm.
She didn’t. Ten years in prison had trained that out of her.
For one disloyal second, she had the absurd urge to steady him, to understand what he had taken, to feel whatever let him stand there with that much power and still remain in one piece.
Then their minds brushed. It felt like a spark, like flint striking steel.
And her head betrayed her with flashes: the club, his body moving inside someone else?—
Were those her memories? Or his leaking into her head?
It didn’t matter, because he knew. His lips curved into a cruel little smile, a serpent’s smirk, showing her that her head wasn’t her own in his presence.
Merde, she swore silently, switching to French as if language itself could still build a wall.
Even high out of his skull, he was the most cunning thing in the room. Ryker’s attention settled intently on her.
Since coming here and being privy to all the memories featuring Ryker, Audrey has noticed that prisoners avoided his gaze when they were in the same room.
But Audrey met them like a challenge.
He seemed surprised, but the emotion disappeared quickly under his mask of careless control.
“Look at you, fully clothed,” he said in smooth, taunting English, blowing smoke at her face. “Hardly recognized you outside of that club.”
“And look at you wearing a leash.” She angled her head toward Kat. “Finally recognized you. It’s longer than you deserve.”
A faint smile curved his mouth. “Do you always stare like that when fucking someone else?” he asked lazily. “Or am I special?”
“I’ve known you for five seconds, and I can already tell you’re a huge prick. I should shred your mind right now.”
For the briefest second, Ryker became still. His answer pressed into her mind.I would love to see you try.
Cut the shit, she snapped mentally.
His smile turned meaner. She gritted her teeth.French, she reminded herself.Think in French.
She looked around at his disaster of a living space. “Do you live here? You should burn all this shit instead of me.”
“These are all very useful and important things,” he said lightly—too lightly. Underneath it, she caught the quick sting of defensiveness and had the sinking realization that, of course, he had felt her notice it.
I’m sure, she thought dryly.
His response glided into her brain like silk and venom. Most telepaths couldn’t breach her shield.
Ryker could, though.
You’re scared of me, he bit back.
And yes, she was. He could sense it.
She lied out loud through her teeth anyway. “You can barely stand. What’s there to be scared of?”
Liar.
The word came with a confidence she wanted to slap off his face.
