flickering candle resting next to the window.
“Tell me, my boy, how did this come about?” Father Stewart murmured, his voice low with concentration.
Ryker shrugged, his chin jerking to the side as he fought back a sudden wave of pain. Idiot , he berated himself, hold still.
Father Stewart’s eyes flicked up, his thin, gray brow arching. “Think of it as a confession,” his old friend teased.
Rough laughter broke free of Ryker’s throat, and, pinching the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “I let it distract me,” he conceded. “I broke the first rule in hunting—never let them trick you.”
Tugging on the thread, Father Stewart nodded. “And how did it manage to distract The Great Ryker?”
There was a second in which he debated revealing all. This man had been in Ryker’s life since he was a child first learning how to handle a sawed-off shotgun. He’d stood back with an appraising eye, watching as his future warriors trained.
But the words wouldn’t form. He couldn’t admit that the simple whisper of Jenna’s name had been enough to undo him. It was no secret how he’d felt for her—hell, after tonight, it seemed that even the paranormal community knew. Regardless, he just couldn’t confess that she still had him tied in knots.
“Not important,” Ryker finally whispered, averting his gaze. It wouldn’t happen again and that was all that mattered.
“All right,” the priest conceded, his fingers quickening as he tied off the stitch. “There.”
“Diagnosis, doc?” Ryker teased, tossing the old man a half-cocked grin when he rolled his eyes.
“I’m quite sure you’ll survive, and just in time for your blind date tonight.”
Swallowing, Ryker’s eyes dropped to his bloodstained shirt. Right, the date—the very last thing he was in the mood for.
He hated dating. The playful banter, the hidden innuendo, it all smacked of dishonesty and deception. But his brothers had insisted. They believed him to be on edge, and, for them, there was only one way to relieve such tension.
Grimacing, he raked a hand through his rumpled hair. So, maybe he had been a touch cranky lately—his family was in the middle of an all-out war against evil. And so what if he hadn’t slaked his need in over half a year? He still had his own two hands, and that was one relationship that couldn’t be destroyed. They were pleasantly skilled, and hardly ever demanded a postcoital snuggle.
As he began to devise a means of escaping the date, the door at the top of the stairwell creaked open, a flood of light bathing over a figure.
“Hey, little brother. There you are.”
Ryker stiffened, his heart sinking as he tipped his chin up to regard the eldest of the Bennett siblings. “Mason,” he mumbled, eyes flicking to the table of medical supplies. With a grim nod, the priest began to gather them up, quietly returning them to the kit while Ryker held Mason’s attention. “What are you doing here?”
“I think the better question is what are you doing here?” Mason asked, pausing midway down the stairs.
“I was just—”
“Getting stitched up, it would seem.” His brother’s narrowed gaze dropped to the tattered ruins of Ryker’s shirt, his jaw tensing with anger. “Been letting some darkling use you as a chew toy?”
Squaring his injured shoulder, Ryker drew to his full height. It’d been a long time since he’d let his older brother intimidate him; he wasn’t about to let him start again now. “Don’t worry about it, it’s taken care of.”
“That so?” Mason murmured, an appraising eye lingering on Ryker’s wound. “I take it you aren’t meeting Natalia tonight, then?”
A bark of laughter slipped past Ryker’s tight lips. “Looking like this?”
“It’s fine,” Mason replied with a light shrug. “Just means I get to take your place. Been looking for a little fun recently, anyways.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Ryker shook his head. “I’d say I expect better from you,
“Tell me, my boy, how did this come about?” Father Stewart murmured, his voice low with concentration.
Ryker shrugged, his chin jerking to the side as he fought back a sudden wave of pain. Idiot , he berated himself, hold still.
Father Stewart’s eyes flicked up, his thin, gray brow arching. “Think of it as a confession,” his old friend teased.
Rough laughter broke free of Ryker’s throat, and, pinching the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “I let it distract me,” he conceded. “I broke the first rule in hunting—never let them trick you.”
Tugging on the thread, Father Stewart nodded. “And how did it manage to distract The Great Ryker?”
There was a second in which he debated revealing all. This man had been in Ryker’s life since he was a child first learning how to handle a sawed-off shotgun. He’d stood back with an appraising eye, watching as his future warriors trained.
But the words wouldn’t form. He couldn’t admit that the simple whisper of Jenna’s name had been enough to undo him. It was no secret how he’d felt for her—hell, after tonight, it seemed that even the paranormal community knew. Regardless, he just couldn’t confess that she still had him tied in knots.
“Not important,” Ryker finally whispered, averting his gaze. It wouldn’t happen again and that was all that mattered.
“All right,” the priest conceded, his fingers quickening as he tied off the stitch. “There.”
“Diagnosis, doc?” Ryker teased, tossing the old man a half-cocked grin when he rolled his eyes.
“I’m quite sure you’ll survive, and just in time for your blind date tonight.”
Swallowing, Ryker’s eyes dropped to his bloodstained shirt. Right, the date—the very last thing he was in the mood for.
He hated dating. The playful banter, the hidden innuendo, it all smacked of dishonesty and deception. But his brothers had insisted. They believed him to be on edge, and, for them, there was only one way to relieve such tension.
Grimacing, he raked a hand through his rumpled hair. So, maybe he had been a touch cranky lately—his family was in the middle of an all-out war against evil. And so what if he hadn’t slaked his need in over half a year? He still had his own two hands, and that was one relationship that couldn’t be destroyed. They were pleasantly skilled, and hardly ever demanded a postcoital snuggle.
As he began to devise a means of escaping the date, the door at the top of the stairwell creaked open, a flood of light bathing over a figure.
“Hey, little brother. There you are.”
Ryker stiffened, his heart sinking as he tipped his chin up to regard the eldest of the Bennett siblings. “Mason,” he mumbled, eyes flicking to the table of medical supplies. With a grim nod, the priest began to gather them up, quietly returning them to the kit while Ryker held Mason’s attention. “What are you doing here?”
“I think the better question is what are you doing here?” Mason asked, pausing midway down the stairs.
“I was just—”
“Getting stitched up, it would seem.” His brother’s narrowed gaze dropped to the tattered ruins of Ryker’s shirt, his jaw tensing with anger. “Been letting some darkling use you as a chew toy?”
Squaring his injured shoulder, Ryker drew to his full height. It’d been a long time since he’d let his older brother intimidate him; he wasn’t about to let him start again now. “Don’t worry about it, it’s taken care of.”
“That so?” Mason murmured, an appraising eye lingering on Ryker’s wound. “I take it you aren’t meeting Natalia tonight, then?”
A bark of laughter slipped past Ryker’s tight lips. “Looking like this?”
“It’s fine,” Mason replied with a light shrug. “Just means I get to take your place. Been looking for a little fun recently, anyways.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Ryker shook his head. “I’d say I expect better from you,
Similar Books
