MATED TO FATHER, FATED TO SONS-Chapter 21: TAKE IT OFF

AMARIS

The most dangerous thing about a man like Ryker was not what he would do to you, it was what he would make you want to do to yourself.

He pulled me in and the door clicked shut behind me.

"You came." The satisfaction in his voice was barely dressed up as a greeting.

I kept my eyes on the wall behind him, very deliberately not looking at his chest, which was bare and warm and entirely too close, "I am not here for what you think," I told him.

He smiled. I felt it without looking at it.

I shifted my attention to his room instead, because it was safer than looking at him and marginally less dangerous than thinking about why I had actually walked down that corridor at this hour.

The room was heavy dark wood furniture, expensive but lived in, a desk against the far wall drowning under documents stacked with no particular system, clothes draped over the back of a chair like the wardrobe behind it was purely decorative, shelves lined with things that looked collected rather than arranged, a bottle of something amber, two thick books with cracked spines, a hunting knife laid flat against the wood like it simply lived there.

There was no performance to any of it, chaotic in the exact way that made complete sense for someone who answered to no one and had probably never let another person tell him where to put something in his life.

It suited him completely and I resented that it did.

He took a step closer and I stayed where I was, "Why are you here then," he asked, "if not for me."

"Victor." I turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. "I want to know what he did to this pack."

He looked at me for a moment, then laughed, the genuine kind that reached his eyes and made him look younger than he had any right to, "Why don’t you just ask Nia," he said, "she has clearly been very generous with information already."

"Why would I," I said, "when you can just tell me yourself."

He tilted his head, something shifting behind his expression, "Okay," he said, "one condition."

"What condition."

"Spend the night."

The laugh burst out of me sharp and real and I was already turning toward the door, "You are a complete maniac," I reached for the handle, "keep your stupid information."

His hand caught my wrist and pulled me back, not roughly, just enough, "I was joking." A smile almost boyish crossed his face, almost. "It didn’t hurt to try."

He uncrossed his arms and looked at the wall for a moment, like he was deciding how much to give me, "Victor was head of security for the Gravemoon pack, third in command, right after my father and Marco."

I stayed quiet, waiting.

"One day he walks into the great hall," Ryker continued, his voice dropping a fraction, "tells everyone he is getting married, brings his mate in to introduce her to the pack." He paused, eyes cutting back to mine. "Turns out the woman standing beside him was my father’s fated mate."

My mouth fell open, "No."

"Yes." He held my gaze, jaw tight.

"But what about your mother, the Luna," I pressed.

"Chosen mate." He said it flat, like the two words explained everything, because they did.

I turned the information over slowly, feeling the shape of it, the way it explained so many things I had been unable to understand since arriving here, the coldness, the cruelty, the way Alpha Corvin acted, "What happened after."

Ryker’s expression closed off, jaw shifting, eyes going somewhere I could not follow, "Chaos," he said. "Death. Mayhem. Things I am not going into tonight."

The wall was up and I knew better than to push it, "And Victor," I said.

He looked at me, something unreadable sitting behind his eyes, "Now you know."

I did. The pieces settled into me quietly and I exhaled, "Okay," I said softly, "that helps," and turned toward the door.

His fingers closed around my hand, loose but present, "Do you really want to go," he said, "or do you want me to beg."

The mental image of Ryker on his knees begging for anything was so deeply implausible that I almost laughed out loud, "I cannot stay all night," I told him.

"You don’t have to."

I looked at him, "Then what exactly would I be doing."

He stepped back, eyes dropping to my robe, "Take off your robe."

My eyes went wide, "What? I cannot."

"Why not."

"Because," the word came out smaller than I planned, my fingers pulling the robe tighter around me, "I am just in my underwear."

He moved to the bed and sat at the edge, elbows dropping to his knees, eyes on me and nowhere else, "Come here," he said.

My legs moved before the rest of me agreed to it and I stopped a few steps away and he looked up at me, chin lifting slightly, "Take it off," he said, "I want to see it."

I swallowed hard. My fingers found the knot at my waist and I loosened it slowly, the fabric parting and falling open at my sides, and I watched his eyes move over me, thorough and focused, hungry in a way he was not trying to hide.

"I am about to expose you to a whole lot of passion." His voice had dropped, rougher now, scraping against something in my chest.

I met his eyes, "I am a virgin, Ryker." My voice held even though my pulse did not. "You know that. Alpha Corvin knows that."

He rose to his feet and crossed to where I stood, his hands coming up to the sides of my neck, warm and certain, trailing down past my collarbone and stopping at my chest, palms resting over the thin fabric of my bra, and my heartbeat gave me away completely against his hands.

"I don’t care," he murmured, his breath grazing my ear, "but I am not going to fuck you, not until you ask me to."

The relief and the disappointment arrived together and I was not going to examine either of them, "Then what else would we be doing."

"Ohhh darling." He pulled back just enough to look at my face, lips curving, eyes dark, "there is a lot of things to do," his thumbs traced slow circles just above the fabric of my bra, "and I can teach you all of it, do you want me to show you."

Every sensible thought I owned was telling me I was being deeply and catastrophically stupid and I was standing there anyway, robe open, heart loud, skin already responding to hands that had barely done anything yet.

"Would I be doing things to you too," I managed, "since you said you won’t sleep with me."

"Yet." He pulled back just enough that I could see the correction land in his eyes, pointed and clear. "Not until you ask. And yes, you can do things to me too, but we can take it one step at a time."

I swallowed and his eyes tracked the movement down my throat.

"What will you be doing to me today," I asked.

The smile that crossed his face was slow and warm and absolutely nothing good for my continued wellbeing.

"I am glad you asked," he responded with an evil grin on his face.