Chapter Twelve

THE PRICE OF DESIRE

Lyra hurried down the long hallway.

Her thoughts were jumbled. She was thinking about the confusing note that Ryker had left her.—“You have 24 hours to tell me who you are”—burned in her mind like an open flame.

Each step echoed against the cold marble floors, but no matter how far she walked, the knot in her stomach wouldn’t relax.

She hated the way he had her cornered, how his presence seemed to fill every corner of her world. Worse, she hated the tinge of something else she couldn’t name—a pull toward him that made no sense.

Turning a corner sharply, Lyra nearly crashed into something—or someone.

Her breath caught as she stumbled back, finding herself face-to-face with Ryker. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, his tall frame casting a shadow over hers.

His dark eyes were locked on her, unreadable but intense.

“Jane,” he said, his tone low and measured. “In a hurry?”

She took an instinctive step back, her heart slamming against her ribs. “I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

His lips curved into a dark, knowing smile. “Clearly.”

She tried to sidestep him, but he shifted, blocking her path. His movements were casual, but his intent was anything but.

“You’re always running,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “Why is that?”

Her pulse quickened. She forced herself to hold his gaze, even as his closeness made her chest tighten. “Maybe I just don’t want to be caught.”

He chuckled a low sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Smart answer,” he murmured. “But I think you know by now, Jane, that running won’t save you.”

Before she could respond, his hand shot out, catching her wrist. The grip wasn’t harsh, but it was firm enough to stop her in her tracks.

His thumb grazed her skin, a featherlight touch that set her nerves alight.

Her body betrayed her, a faint tremor running through her, but she tilted her chin defiantly. “Let go.”

He didn’t move, only stepped closer. She could feel the heat of his body now, the faint scent of cedar and something darker lingering in the air between them.

His presence was suffocating, and yet, she couldn’t pull away.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” he asked, his voice a near whisper.

“I’m not afraid,” she shot back, but the slight quiver in her voice betrayed her.

He leaned in, his lips hovering near her ear. “Lying doesn’t suit you, Jane. But I’ll admit—it’s entertaining.”

Her breath hitched as his words washed over her, his voice deep and rich, like velvet brushing against her skin. She hated the way her heart betrayed her, the way it raced at his closeness.

“You think you can trap me?” she said, her voice firmer now, though her pulse was still wild. “You think I’ll play along with your games?”

His hand slid down her wrist, his fingers brushing hers briefly before he released her. “You’re already playing, Jane,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers.

“You just haven’t realized it yet.”

Her chest tightened at the way he looked at her like he could see straight through the walls she tried so hard to keep up.

“What do you want from me?” she demanded, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

He smiled again, but this time, there was something darker in it. “Everything.”

The single word hung in the air between them, heavy and charged.

“You don’t own me,” she said, her voice sharper now.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Don’t I?”

Her breath caught at the implication, but she refused to let him win. Stepping back, she forced her voice to stay steady. “You can’t break me, Ryker. No matter how hard you try.”

He studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he stepped back, giving her space.

“I’m not trying to break you, Jane,” he said softly. “I’m trying to figure out what you’re hiding.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, but she kept her expression neutral. “I’m not hiding anything.”

He smiled again, a dangerous curve of his lips. “We’ll see.”

For a moment, neither of them moved, The tension between them felt intense. Ryker gave a slight nod and then walked away, leaving her there with her heart racing.

“His touch is a brand. A claim. But I won’t let him mark me. Not this way. Not without a fight.”

The suspense between them had been growing all evening. At dinner, Ryker acted as he usually did, making annoying comments and sharp remarks that only she seemed to notice.

Lyra had barely touched her plate, her appetite long gone as the unstated tension steamed across the table. By the time she fled to her room, she was ready to scream—or cry—but mostly scream.

Her heart was still racing when she reached her door, slamming it shut behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, trying to catch her breath.

But the quiet didn’t last.

A shadow shifted in the hallway, and before she could process what was happening, the door pressed against her back as a hand caught it just before it locked.

“Not so fast,” Ryker’s deep voice drawled from the other side.

Her pulse spiked as she spun around, pushing the door with her weight.

“Go away, Ryker!”

The pressure against the door eased for a moment, but only so he could step inside, his towering frame filling the doorway before she could react.

She backed away instinctively, her voice tight. “You can’t just barge in here whenever you want.”

He closed the door behind him, his gaze locking on hers.

The intensity in his eyes made her throat dry, and she found herself gripping the edge of a nearby dresser for balance.

“I can,” he said, his tone calm but laced with something darker.

“What do you want?” she demanded, trying to sound stronger than she felt.

His eyes flicked over her, taking in her disheveled appearance—her loose hair, her flushed cheeks. “You’ve been playing this game for weeks now, Jane. Running, hiding, deflecting. It’s getting old.”

She crossed her arms, hoping to shield herself from his scrutiny. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ryker stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. She tried to retreat further, but the dresser was already pressing into her back.

“Liar,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

The word sent a shiver down her spine, but she lifted her chin, determined not to let him see her falter. “If you came here to accuse me of something, then say it and leave.”

His lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile.

“Leave?” He reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.

The touch was light, almost gentle, but it carried the weight of his presence. “You don’t want that, do you?”

Her breath hitched, and she hated herself for the way her body reacted to him. “You’re delusional,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Ryker chuckled softly, the sound low and rough.

“Am I?” His hand moved to her neck, his fingers grazing her skin in a way that made her heart race. “Tell me to stop, Jane. Tell me you don’t feel this.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him exactly what she thought of his arrogance, but the words wouldn’t come. Her body betrayed her, leaning slightly into his touch even as her mind screamed at her to pull away.

“This is a mistake,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“Maybe,” he murmured, his lips so close now that she could feel his breath against her skin. “But it’s a mistake we’re both making.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was fierce, demanding, and entirely unexpected. His hand slid from her neck to her waist, pulling her flush against him as his mouth claimed hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

She froze, her mind struggling to process what was happening. She should push him away. She should slap him, scream at him, anything to stop this.

But her body refused to listen.

Her hands pressed against his chest, but instead of pushing him back, they curled into the fabric of his shirt. His grip on her waist tightened, his other hand tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss.

His tongue teased hers, coaxing a response she couldn’t control.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out every logical thought. The heat of his body against hers, the way his hands seemed to know exactly where to touch—it was overwhelming.

She finally managed to break away, gasping for air.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, her voice shaking.

Ryker’s lips curved into a smug smile, but his eyes were darker now, filled with something that made her stomach twist.

“Proving a point.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, anger finally breaking through the haze of her confusion. “You don’t get to do that! You can’t just—”

“Can’t what?” he interrupted, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Kiss you? Touch you?” He leaned closer again, his voice dropping.

“Want you?”

Her breath caught at his words, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’m not a toy, Ryker.”

His expression softened, just slightly. “I know,” he said quietly. “That’s what makes this so damn frustrating.”

She stared at him, her mind racing to make sense of his words. “What are you talking about?”

Ryker sighed, running a hand through his hair.

For the first time, he seemed almost…vulnerable. “You’re not like the others, Jane. You’re different. And I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

Her chest tightened at his admission, but she forced herself to stay calm. “You don’t even know me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes met hers, unwavering. “I know enough.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Then, Ryker stepped back, giving her space.

“I’ll leave,” he said, his tone unreadable. “But don’t think this is over.”

He turned and walked to the door, pausing just before he stepped out. “Next time,” he added, glancing over his shoulder, “don’t pretend you don’t want it to.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Lyra alone with her racing heart and the weight of everything that had just happened.

“This is a game—his game. And I’m not ready to lose. But right now, I can’t seem to remember why I should fight this.”