“Kitara, no. I won’t let you?—”
I lay a hand on his chest, halting him.
“Ryker, trust that I can do this. Unlike Cheyenne, I have amate to keep me tethered to this reality. If anyone can save me, it will be you.”
A muscle in his jaw pulses as if he’s fighting to stop the words he wants to say. Finally, he speaks. “I did my duty by asking this of you. I’m regretting that decision.”
I grin, knowing I’ve won. “You can regret it if it fails.”
He mumbles something under this breath that sounds a lot like “stubborn mate,” then drops his hand to my waist.
“We’ll do this if you’ll allow me to guide you through it.” His gaze meets mine, serious and intent. “If I say we need to end it, we end it. No questions, no protests. You understand?”
I nod.
“Fucking hell.” He runs a hand through his hair once more. “I can’t believe I’m letting this happen. God damn it.”
I lean into him. “It’ll be fine, Ryker. You watch.”
“It better be.” He huffs out a sigh. “Kitara, before you do this, there’s something you should know about Thaddeus. About why his hatred for me runs so deep.”
I wait, sensing the importance of whatever he’s about to reveal.
“Thaddeus Solomon is my father.”
Chapter
Thirteen
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I stare at him, searching his face for signs of deception and finding none.
“Your father?” I echo, struggling to process the revelation. “Thaddeus is your—but?—”
“Why does he want me dead?” Ryker’s laugh holds no humor. “He doesn’t know.”
He turns back to the Vision Well, his reflection fractured by ripples that seem to form without cause.
“My mother was an alpha, born to the Grayback Pack. Thaddeus was already Grand Alpha when he met her during territory negotiations.” Ryker’s voice takes on a distant quality, as if reciting a story told many times. “He became obsessed with her, convinced that combining her blood with his alpha line would create offspring of unprecedented power.”
My heart aches, already sensing where this story leads.
“He took advantage of her innocence, and installed her as his mistress, hiding her away from his official mate in the Grand Pack.” Bitterness edges his words. “For two years, she lived in seclusion, a prized possession rather than a wolf. Itwas only when she discovered he already had a mate that she left. But by that stage it was too late—I’d already taken root.”
Ryker’s hands clench at his sides. “I was born with these eyes.” He gestures to his mismatched gaze—one gold, one blood-red. “The mark of what the ancient texts call ‘shadow blood.’ My mother saw it as punishment for her indiscretion.”
I hesitate only a heartbeat. Then I step closer.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t draw me in like he usually would.
I gather my courage and reach for him.
My hand lifts, fingers trembling slightly, and I gently brush beneath his left eye—the brilliant gold. Then the right—deep crimson, the color of blood and dusk and power.
My touch is featherlight. Reverent. As if I can erase the years of shame stitched into his skin with nothing more than a caress.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper. “You’re beautiful.”
His gaze burns into mine.
