Part 26 (1/2)

Ryker's mother rushes out of the hall and begins fussing over us, gus.h.i.+ng about the good fortune of Ryker to marry into a family of such high standing. I want to tie her tongue to silence her and it takes every bit of concentration I have to not lash out.

With our entourage, we walk next door to the reception hall. The front of the building has been completely repaired. No one would ever know I blew the front off of it a week ago.

After Ryker and I are presented, we dine on a seven-course meal. There's dancing and receiving lines. Smiles and congratulations. Piles of gifts.

Except while we dine, Ryker stays by my side, his hand pressed into the small of my back. If he's angry about what happened with Lena, he isn't showing it.

A bell rings, silencing the crowd. Mother stands and addresses the guests. ”It's time to bid the new couple goodnight.”

Kyra's at my side, patting my hand. ”Are you nervous?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. ”Something like that.”

She giggles. ”I'll come over tomorrow and you can tell me all about it, okay.”

I don't bother to say there will be nothing to tell. Ryker won't touch me. Beck said as much. ”Okay.”

Ryker bows to me and I place my hand in his. He leads me to the side door. All around us, guests laugh and cheer.

And then we're outside. With just Oliver and Dawson. The younger of my guards drapes my wrap over my shoulders. With a nod, Dawson pushes the exit open. A few people still linger, waiting for one more glimpse of us. They wave, but I keep my head down and concentrate on the air rus.h.i.+ng in and out of my lungs.

A transporter waits for us. I've only been in one a handful of times since they're mainly used for special occasions, but from the way Ryker grasps the handle on his seat, I can tell he's never been in one.

As we travel away from the hall, it occurs to me I have no idea where our new home is. We turn on to Spruce Street. I tap Oliver on the shoulder. ”Are we going to Mother's?”

He shakes his head. ”Your house is on Jackson. A block over.”

I envision the street layout and my heart stops.

”Kyra lives on Jackson,” I say to Ryker, hoping he understands what I'm implying.

He draws his eyebrows together. ”Wonderful.”

The transporter stops before Kyra's house. Dawson points at the yellow house across the street, next to Annalise's. ”Welcome home, Miss Lark and Mr. Ryker.”

The only thing that could possibly be worse is if Mother had us living with Kyra. ”Looks like we won the housing lottery.”

Ryker sits on one end of a long sofa with me on the other. Since Oliver and Dawson showed us to our bedroom, we've both been pretending the other one isn't in the room. It's funny, up until a few months ago, we'd always lived in the same house, ate our meals together, saw each other in our night clothes. But we've never really been alone.

To say this is awkward is an understatement and if I don't do something-anything-soon, I'm going to die.

”Do you want to explore the house?” I ask. So far, neither of us have mentioned Lena or Beck, and I'm okay with that. ”It looks fabo, as Kyra would say.”

He fidgets with his green wristlet and avoids my eyes. ”I'm hungry. Maybe order something to eat? I couldn't eat at the reception.”

”I'll call the cook. What would you like? Something with bananas?” Bethina used to tease Ryker that he'd turn into a monkey because he ate so many bananas. At least I know this about my mate.

Ryker pretends to study the view out the window. ”That would be great. And maybe some milk?”

There are a million things I want to say, starting with, ”I'm sorry for everything I've done to you,” but instead, I'm speaking into my wristlet and giving orders to the staff. Our staff. I keep forgetting I have my own household now. And a mate. Or two, depending on how you count.

While I place our order, I catch Ryker sneaking looks at me. You'd think years of familiarity would give me a hint to his thoughts, but I draw a blank.

”Do you need help getting that off?” he says quietly, pointing at my dress. Almost like he hopes I can't hear him. But I do. And my face instantly burns in embarra.s.sment.

We both know if we don't seal our binding, Mother will know in the morning. Not that we'll having matching auras like Beck and I did. But I'm fairly sure she has our wristlets on extra monitoring.

Plus, she gave me express instructions to not fail in this area. And I'm sure she said something similar to Ryker at the reception.

Still, Beck told me Ryker wouldn't touch me and I hope that's true.

My back hurts from the weight of the old-fas.h.i.+oned, non-smart fabric dress. I need to take it off unless I'm planning to sleep in it, which would send a clear message that Ryker and I haven't consummated our relations.h.i.+p. Unfortunately, I can't do it alone.

I twist my hands into a knot and keep my eyes down. ”Yes, please.”

He walks stiffly to me, and I turn my back to him. He mumbles something, and without touching me, the dress falls loose around my hips, exposing my undergarments. I quickly bend and scoop the dress to my chest.

Someone knocks.

”Enter,” Ryker says from the half of the room he's retreated to. Thankfully, a maid whose name I've yet to learn peers in, not Annalise or Mother.

She hurries across the room and sets a covered tray on the coffee table before exiting.

Ryker lifts the lid and plucks a dish of bananas and cream from the tray. ”It's good. Why don't you eat something?”

I feel odd walking around with my dress half-off. ”I'm going to change. Maybe when I come back.”

”Where are you going to change?” he asks.

My body sways slightly under the bulk of the dress. ”In the bathroom.”

Ryker laughs. ”Seriously? We're supposed to spend every night for the rest of our lives together and you're going to change in the bathroom?”

I draw my brows together. ”I thought you knew our relations.h.i.+p was in name only?”

He folds his arms across his chest and narrows his eyes. ”I'm your mate. We share everything now.”

”Excuse me?” I stare at him blankly. Is he testing me? Or trying to upset me?

With noticeably shaking hands, Ryker unties his shoe laces. When he's done, his shoulders sag, and he flops back into the tower of pillows on the bed.

”Don't make this more awkward than it needs to be.”

If I were a normal girl, perhaps I would blush. Or maybe even glance away. But I am not a normal girl. I concentrate on the b.u.t.tons of his dress s.h.i.+rt and imagine each one heating up. Warmth build inside me and a mischievous grin lights up my face. Ryker pops a chocolate from his bedside table in his mouth.

The b.u.t.tons begin to glow yellow, then orange.