Know Thine Enemy (26 page)

By the time he returned from his evening hunt, Izzie had moved back into her bedroom.
Disappointment rushed through his tired body, but he supposed it was for the best. Cornering her into a conversation before she was ready to open up wouldn't do either one of them any favors. He might be an impatient bastard, but he didn't want to make her feel any more awkward or self-aware than she did already.

He refused to pursue her when the space between them was cast in shadow and uncertainty.

Ryker collapsed onto the sofa, sighing hard. It would be a while before he could coax his body to sleep. This time of night was typically his most active. Trolling the alleys, downing shots at The Wall, listening to Connor tell the usual stories the way a lounge singer clung to the familiar songs. Hard to believe such little time had passed from the place he knew and the place he now occupied. Hard to believe he was here at all because Connor wanted to ensure Izzie's presence wouldn't put anyone in danger.

Another long sigh rolled off his lips and he found himself reaching for the television remote, though he really wasn
't in the mood to watch anything. He turned on the tube but didn't look up. Any attempts at a distraction would be brushed aside. He knew his mind too well. At the very least, cable news would help numb the quiet.

Ryker hated the quiet. He hated the burden of being left with his thoughts, especially when everything felt as miserably fucked as it did now.

The softer sentiments. He'd thought he'd left them behind somewhere—buried in Caroline's empty casket. It had been such a long time since anyone touched him, since he felt the urge to make himself vulnerable for someone else.

He could only imagine what was going through Izzie
's head, and he didn't care to explore it in depth. The weight of all that had passed, not to mention the uncertainty of what the future held, tossed in with a vampire she barely knew and sensations her body hadn't been ready to experience. No, he didn't envy her.

He just wished he knew how to make it better.

Still, he couldn't deny how much he loved watching her. Izzie's strength, despite her confusion, was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed. She pieced herself together, doing her best not to lean or rely on an outside hand, no matter how willingly it might be offered. Her connection with Wright was not one of dependence. She hadn't been brainwashed into adapting a lifestyle; she'd taken Wright's method and perfected it to suit her needs. She hadn't condemned Ryker for doing what he'd done while being what he was, nor had she run screaming back to the life she'd abandoned the second they touched free air.

She wasn
't the sort of girl he typically met.

And not being near her now, while he understood and respected whatever she needed from him, was almost worse than the cell. At least in the cell he knew what his options were
. Now, he knew what he wanted, but going after it came at the potential expense of everything he and Izzie had worked toward since that first encounter in the alley.

"
Fuck."

He sat so long he
'd forgotten he turned on the television. When he glanced up, the screen showed a woman sucking hard on a man's cock, her eyes wide and eager. It seemed so randomly out of place Ryker blinked dumbly before accepting his sex-warped mind wasn't hallucinating. After all, he'd been on a bit of an overload as of late, but he hoped he remembered what a smut film looked like.

And he did. The former soap opera star smiled and pulled at her screen-partner
's prick, her tits huge and abusively fake, her sun-blonde hair an obvious dye-job. She opened her mouth and rolled out her tongue in anticipation.

"
Fuck,
" he repeated, reaching again for the remote. Izzie had evidently activated the mute feature, but he was less concerned with that and more intrigued by the notion she'd been watching porn. She'd had the television on when he emerged from his room, but this was unlike any Twilight Zone episode he remembered. Had she, when he left . . . watched this?

Strangely, frantic coupling between a faceless male and a woman who had prematurely aged twenty years did nothing for him, not even on a visual level. It wasn
't for lack of trying. Ryker's hand knew its role and slid obediently into his pants. He palmed his cock, which remained woefully uninterested no matter how hard he tugged. Visual aids had never proved problematic in the past, but then there was something to be said for the mental comparison of moonlight skin and the cinematic raisin-fleshed blonde currently getting pounded from behind. But then, Ryker had never attempted to jerk off while looking at one thing and fantasizing about another. There had never been a need.

Disgusted, he shut off the television and bounded to his feet.

"Can't get no satisfaction," he murmured, wandering into the bathroom. There seemed little point in prolonging his discomfort. Visual media might not do it for him now, but his mind had a catalogue of every sweet sound Izzie had made during their sessions. Every soft sigh, every coo. He knew how she tasted, how she clamped around his fingers, how she bucked against his tongue. He knew her smell. He knew how beautiful she was when she came.

His cock hardened at the thought. Oh yeah, that could get him there. Without the distraction of a bulbous-titted soap star and her former child-actor bedmate.

For whatever reason, the shower provided an escape the world outside could not. Perhaps it was the splatter of water against his skin or the sound of rainfall confined within the room, but with his eyes closed and his hands rubbing his face, he could imagine himself a million worlds away. He could picture Izzie kneeling before him, her expression nothing like the faux blonde from the porno, her hand curling around his swelling erection, her mouth curved in the soft, hesitant smile unique to her sweet face.

She would be timid, he assumed
. It seemed unlikely Wright would have asked her to get on her knees, especially since she had been a virgin.

Ryker tensed at the thought, the usual wave of possessive hatred coursing through him with rehearsed precision. Every time he pictured the other man in any regard, he was consumed with the need to smash something heavy. It made fuck all sense, as he wasn
't the sort to grow jealous over the little things. His bed certainly hadn't lacked company over the years, and since Izzie was in no sense his to claim—and hell, even if she was—the past was the past, and it wasn't logical getting torn up over what couldn't be changed.

Instead, Ryker expelled a calming breath as his thoughts drifted back to more pleasant things. Things like Izzie
's mouth around him, her fingers squeezing his shaft as her lips tightened around the head of his cock. She'd palm his sac with gentle curiosity, caress him slowly, mindful of his reactions. Christ, he could nearly feel her tongue swirling around him, licking, loving, and worshipping every thick inch as she pulled him deeper and deeper . . . .

"
Fuck," Ryker gasped, milking his cock to a hollow release. Water beat down across his back. He blinked rapidly as he drifted down again.

Not anywhere near satisfied. Likely the best he could manage.

He stepped out of the shower, dried off, and caught himself before he cast his towel aside and instead wrapped it around his waist. It wasn't as though Izzie would be up, or that she hadn't already seen and felt all his naughty bits, but he didn't want to chance it, anyway.

Ryker stepped into the hallway. The cabin seemed darker now, almost like the sun had set f
arther away than usual. He glanced at Izzie's closed door as though willing it to open.

It didn
't, of course. More forced distance then.

He could wait. He had forever.

He was a step deep toward the living room when he heard it—a small sigh. A gasp, really: a soft, sweet, achingly female gasp coming from Izzie's room. Ryker paused, the still air whispering promises against his cooling skin. He waited for what felt like forever, and then it came again. A gentle breath—a name.

No, his name.

"Ryker!"

This was where he was supposed to turn away, he was sure of it. Whatever was happening behind that door most certainly did not involve him. His name notwithstanding, Ryker had been around enough years to know the difference between being beckoned and being referenced
. This was the latter. If she wanted him in there, she would have welcomed him. He definitely shouldn't view it as an invitation. Another time, another reality, perhaps, but not this one. Not now.

And yet, nothing could stop him. His hand was on the doorknob, his treacherous wrist twisting it open. The door swung in, and then he saw her. Naked
with her ebony hair fanned around her head, contrasting her pearly skin with nearly godlike reverence. Her small delicate breasts stood firm, her dusky nipples pebbled. Her feet were on the mattress, her legs bent, and her hand was between them, stroking her pussy. And his name came again, riding off her lips, her eyes closed tight as though lost in a dream.

Ryker didn
't realize he had moved forward until his gaze was on her clit, the willing prisoner of her thumb and index finger. She had shaved her mound—God, when had she managed that? And why? Fuck all, but it didn't matter. He would watch her forever if she let him.

Only her smell, the sight
—no, he didn't want to watch.

He cast her a brief look. Her eyes were still shut, her breathing smooth and regular. For all intents and purposes, she had no idea he was here.

Last chance, Niles. Turn around and walk the fuck out.

Ryker shook his head, his watering mouth chasing the voice away. The closer he grew, the more intoxicated he became on her scent. How he managed to squeeze
so close to her without drawing her attention was beyond him, but he didn't care enough to question it. Instead, he watched, trembling, as her fingers plunged into her slick hole, her hips arching off the bed. All the while soft mewls, all coated in his name, rode off her lips.

And then he couldn
't stand it. Fucking hell, he never had a chance.

Ryker closed the space between them. He sealed his mouth over her clit and pulled, eliciting a sharp gasp. Izzie jerked up but calmed almost immediately, though her body began shaking like he
'd never felt it shake before, unlike anything he saw or experienced back in the cell. His eyes found hers and held, watching her as she watched him. He loved her clit with the tip of his tongue, coaxing her fingers away from her pussy as one of his own slipped inside her welcoming body.

"
Ryker," she whispered, her voice trembling.

He purred in response and slid a second finger inside her, his mouth leaving her wet flesh with a parting lick.
"Sorry," he said. "Couldn't help myself."

"
I—ohh . . . ."

"
Heard you calling for me."

Her cheeks reddened and her gaze broke from his.
"Oh."

"
Wanted this too fucking badly to ignore it." He sucked her clit between his lips again, his fingers developing a modest tempo as they thrust in and out of her body. "You're so beautiful like this."

Izzie
's blush deepened and though she looked like she might protest, she seemingly couldn't prevent her hips from rising off the mattress, coaxing his fingers deeper inside her. "I can't stop."

"
Don't try."

"
What happened back there—"

"
Leave back there
back there
," Ryker murmured, slowly sliding his fingers away. "This is just us."

Izzie worried a lip between her teeth.
"We thought that once before."

"
Anyone tries to come in now and I'll kill them."

"
I'll help."

"
Izzie . . . ." He dropped a wet kiss on her opening, licking a path back to her clit. "Let me have you now."

"
I'm not sick?"

Ryker frowned.
"What?"

"
I want this." She met his eyes again at last, and the pain reflected there nearly tore him apart. "And I shouldn't."

"
Because I'm a vampire?"

"
No. Not that."

He studied her for a long moment before realization dawned. Before every guilty gasp echoed through his head, drawing him down a labyrinth of discovery. At once he was with her somewhere else, listening to her pleas for forgiveness for daring to take pleasure when he gave it. Nothing had changed for her so far as that was concerned
—one hell traded for another.

"
Oh, Izzie."

"
I have to be some kind of sick, right?" she whispered. "To want something like this after everything that happened?"

Ryker dropped a kiss on her inner thigh, shivering.
"You think it would've happened like that with anyone?"

"
What?"

"
Had I been someone else. Anyone else. You think you would've felt what you felt with me?"