“I had a bottle of water and drank too much,” I blatantly lie. Poppy, Ryker and Mossy look at me, waiting for a better lie, but I just close my eyes. I don’t climb out of Ryker’s lap like I should do, and neither does Mossy move.
“I’m going to stay in the living room, keep watch and all,” Poppy says. “Wanna keep me company, Mossy?”
“I can be your snack bitch,” Mossy replies. I choke out a laugh, and Ryker can’t help but laugh with us. Poppy looks horrified.
“That’s not a saying, Mossy,” Poppy exclaims as Mossy jumps on her shoulder. “You really need to stop listening to Dae’s terrible language.”
“Nope,” Mossy snickers, and Poppy just chuckles as she leaves the room. Ryker keeps his arms around me over the blanket, and he feels incredibly warm.
“You feel hot, are you sick?” I question. “Can half hellhound, half reapers even get sick?”
“My body is reacting to yours, making me warm so you are not cold,” he softly explains. “It’s just something that happens with m—”
He stops himself, and I frown at him. “Happens with what?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” he counters. “I’m worried about you.”
“Is that why you came here when you heard about the attack?” I question. “You didn’t need to do that. I can defend myself.”
“I’m well aware you can,” he replies with a smirk. “But my hellhound wanted to be here, and he is a stubborn bastard.”
I snort. “Like you, you mean.”
“Possibly. I’m stubborn when there is something I want,” he replies, his eyes drifting down to my lips. The room suddenly becomes thick with tension.
“Thank you for coming. I’m sure you made Poppy feel safer,” I say, needing to change the subject. He nods, looking away from my face. I trace my eyes over the hellhound, his thick wavy black locks of hair that always look different every day but somehow suit him to a T. His jaw is perfect, better than any artist could sculpt, and everything from his neat eyebrows to the dimples that appear when he smiles is addictive to look at. Ryker Maddock is a truly handsome shifter. His blue eyes, which remind me of deep dark waters, lock onto mine. For the first time, I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. I’m more curious why I care what he thinks when he sees me, but I do. My heart seems to beat that much faster when he is close to me like this. Our friendship is so natural, it feels like it’s so easy to be around Ryker, and it’s never been easy for me to be around anyone before.
“I didn’t come here for Poppy, Dae,” he gently tells me. “Don’t you know that by now?”
“I do,” I admit, biting down on my lip. “Ryker, it’s—”
“Don’t say that or give up on the idea just yet. You don’t know me well enough,” he gently interrupts. “I’m well aware I’m not the only man in your life, and I’m a possessive son of a bitch, so this is going to be so complicated. But for now, let me be your friend.”
“Friend?” I question.
“Yes, you do seem to have two. A monkey and a pretend sister. Why not add a possessive and totally crushing on you hellhound to the mix?” he asks, and I can’t help but smile at him, which somehow ends up with us both chuckling.
“Okay, friend,” I draw out the word. “Tell me something about yourself.”
“How about a few things?” he suggests, and I nod, placing my hand on his chest over his shirt. “I love the smell of your hair, it reminds me of sugared strawberries and cream on a sunny day. I used to fucking love those as a kid. Sometimes you smell like coffee, which I am always a fan of.”
“While we are on the subject,” I say. “You smell like a mixture of lemon and earthy scents. It’s really nice.”
“Good to know I smell nice,” he chuckles. Somehow he pulls us both down onto the slightly damp bed, covering us with the blanket. I end up snuggled into his side, his arm around my waist as I lie my head on his chest. It feels good not to be alone for once. “What’s your favourite song?”
“‘Chasing Cars’ by Snow Patrol,” I tell him. It’s not my favourite song in the world, because one of the fae songs my mother used to sing is. One about how the fae are heartless and cruel. The song of the Seelie. He surprises me by singing some of the lyrics to the song I mentioned, and his deep voice really suits the song.
“It can be our song,” he eventually says. “Seeing as I’m lying here with you.”
“But our world is too fucked up to forget,” I murmur. His grip tightens on me.
“Daesyn, every world is fucked up. It’s who you have stood at your side, battling through it with you, that matters. And trust me, Dae, you’re not alone anymore,” he gently tells me.
“What’s your favourite song?” I question.
“I have many,” he admits.
“Ryker...how did you know I was fae? What is ‘The Curse of the Fae’ song?” I question.
“One day I will tell you how I know you’re fae, Unseelie fae to be exact, and why I promised to protect you from the first moment we met,” he gently tells me. “But not tonight. You’re not ready to hear it.”
“Okay,” I whisper. Strangely, I trust that he’s right.
“And the song of the cursed rune is one all the fae slaves sing in the castle. I’ve heard it a million times, but I would never sing it out loud,” he tells me, his voice sounding almost fearful. “I am not fae, and some songs must only be sung by them.”
“I wish I could remember it,” I admit.
“So do I,” I hear him whisper so quietly, I know he didn’t want me to hear. My eyes close at some point, and I drift off to sleep, knowing the nightmares won’t come when I am in his arms.
Who would want to fight a hellhound?
Chapter 25
I wake up the next morning feeling warm and toasty, such an unusual feeling that when I blink my eyes open, I’m surprised to see I’m lying on a naked chest. What the fuck happened last night? Everything comes back to me in a rush, the nearly drowning dream and Ryker comforting me. We must have fallen asleep together, and somehow his shirt disappeared overnight. I take a second to look over him as he sleeps, his head resting on his bent arm, making the muscles in his arms stretch. His flat stomach ripples with a six-pack, and right above his chest is a strange red tattoo. It’s a load of runes in a circle, none of which I’ve seen before, and in the centre is half of a rune. The other part is empty. I stroke my hand down his chest to the tattoo, running my fingers over the raised skin.
“If you keep doing that, being your friend is going to be impossible,” Ryker grumbles in a groggy, sleep-filled voice, and it’s super sexy. I grin and move my hand away as he sits up, smiling down at me.
