RYLEN (The Tangled Web Book 1)

by Morgan Wylie

No further encouragement needed, Rylen pushed into her wet and open channel. They both sighed at the momentary relief. Then fast and hard, Rylen rode her until they both cried out in ecstasy. He pulled away from her to clean himself up. She slumped against the wall, weak with pleasure. Lacy turned and watched him with an appreciative gaze, licking her lips. Reaching for her torn shirt, she examined it briefly.

  “Sorry about your shirt, I’ll buy you a new one.” Rylen spoke, his voice still rough and seductive from their bout.

  “I know you will,” Lacy replied with sass. She straightened her skirt.

  “I like the shoes, Lacy,” Rylen said with a playful smirk as he eyed her sexy shoes.

  “I thought you might.” She winked. “Want me to stay?”

  “Not tonight,” he said as he moved toward the door, opening it.

  Lacy frowned and pouted like she was truly hurt, but he knew she’d bounce back and probably find some other lucky bastard once she got back downstairs.

  “Your loss, Rylen,” she said. He smacked her ass as she walked past him. She turned to give him one last coquettish smile. “Aren’t you glad you don’t have a mate? Or we wouldn’t be able to do this.” Clad in her little skirt, her “fuck me” shoes, and her red bra she sauntered back to the elevator with new vigor in her sway. Lacy turned right before she got in and gave a little wave with a flirtatious flourish.

  Rylen shut the door and leaned his head on it for a moment before making his way back to his chair. He didn’t want to admit it, but her comment about not having a mate stung. The sex was good, but he never truly felt satisfied, like he belonged with someone—the loneliness had been keeping him on edge these past five years.

  Before he sat, he stood in front of the window. His reflection revealed his thin yet toned and deceptively strong physique, his not quite six foot—but six foot to those that ask—stature, and his dark, short spiky hair. His eyes were both his most striking and most alarming feature; one being green and the other gray. When he dealt with the “normal” population, he usually used magic on his eyes to make them both the same color; sometimes gray and sometimes green. In the dark reflection of the window it was hard to see all his tattoos and scars, but they were there—inside and out.

  He ran both his hands through his hair and took deep cleansing, calming breaths. Inhale… exhale, slow and steady. He had learned over the years to center himself and get lost in his mind, a type of meditation, when he was trying to puzzle something out. Staring at his own eyes, he became absorbed between his reflection and the lights of the city. Listening, he could hear the boys coming out of the elevator heading into the apartment kitchen, but their sounds became muffled, nothing but a buzz in the background. The beat of his heart was steady, his breathing smooth and slow. His skin tingled as his blood and energy moved from one part of his body to the next, cycling through from his feet up to his head. What he saw through his window faded into a replay of the heist just hours before. He watched it all go down from his perspective in slow motion. He was able to scan the room and see things he hadn’t noticed before. He watched Mather, Lola, and Mai walking through the chaotic party to their table, but the guards and few vamps he could recognize by sight kept quickly glancing to Rylen’s team as if they were waiting for something. It happened several times, enough to trigger alarm. At the time, it wouldn’t have been noticeable unless you were looking for it. Through the memory Mai had shared with him of what happened in the back room after Lola cracked the safe, he watched Mai whisper her spell over the display inside the safe, disarming its magical protections. She then went on creating a cloud of magic around the room that spelled anyone watching through video surveillance to not see what she was really doing: switching the real stone for an ordinary rock. As Rylen spun around the room in his mind, seeing several of the patrons and staff at the event glance at him and Vi and then over to Mather. He recognized one of the tattoos sticking out of the collar on one of the guest’s dress shirt. The Fairfax symbol. It didn’t make sense that they would be there, or why they didn’t do anything to stop his team.

  Rylen felt his calm leaving. Someone had set them up and since it was the Widow’s op, all fingers pointed to her… but why? Or was it a set up for her, perhaps something to lure her out by Fairfax? Except she never did her own public dirty work. There wasn’t enough for him to go on. Frustrated, Rylen took one last glance around the room and he saw one other face that stood out to him. One of the servers walking around with a tray full of drinks was a young woman who wasn’t paying much attention to whom she served. In fact, she wasn’t even dressed like the other cocktail waitresses, she blended in more with the various dancers. She didn’t pay attention to Mai like the others did. Instead, under her long dark lashes or sometimes from the veil of her badly-dyed long, bleach-blonde hair, she watched Rylen with bright blue eyes.

  Snapping out of his state of meditation, Rylen breathed deeply. His pulse pounded with all the new information he just took in. The Oracle’s voice went through his mind from earlier, “Did you see her?”

  Yeah, I saw her. Could that server girl be who he was supposed to see? And Lucius’ warning about something being “off” definitely fit with how strange the op had been. Rylen decided to sleep on it before his meeting with the Widow in the morning.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The morning came too quickly for Rylen. He tossed and turned in his sleep—or what little sleep he did get. The rest of the night was spent thinking and being tormented by his mind. He couldn’t shut it off and his mood this morning was to show for it.

  He was down in the command center of the Lair—also known as Headquarters to the team—before anyone else was, simply waiting. He had great patience, but he hated waiting. It made him agitated and antsy. He sipped his rich, black coffee. He didn’t care what kind it was. Whoever’s turn it was to shop got to pick the coffee, unless it was Mai, who drank tea. As long as there was coffee, most of the guys didn’t care about the kind either. Enock needed something extra to meet his vampiric needs though. There were a couple other vampires in the clan so a shelf in the fridge remained stocked just for them, with donated bags of blood. Sometimes Enock drank it straight, but often times he added it to his coffee. Rylen tried it once, just to taste it…and because he lost a bet to Enock.

  Finally, Tom, the tech geek, came shuffling in, carrying his own cup of the steaming elixir.

  “That doesn’t smell like coffee,” Rylen grumbled with his nose scrunched.

  Tom paused in his entry. “Oh, I didn’t see you, Boss. No… no, it’s not coffee,” he stuttered. “It’s tea. Mai talked me into trying it.” He smelled the steam coming off his mug. “It’s mint or something.”

  Rylen frowned.

  “Does it bother you? I can dump it out,” Tom said, suddenly unsure of his leader’s mood.

  Rylen wiped his hand down his face in exhaustion. “No, sorry Tom. I didn’t sleep well. It’s not you, or your tea.” He gestured for Tom to take his seat. “I’m waiting for a meeting with the Black Widow.”

  Tom stiffened, his hands shaking slightly and almost spilling his tea.

  “I just need you to set it up for me, Tom, then you can leave not to be caught in her crossfire,” Rylen mentioned with a knowing smirk. “I think she should be pleasant this morning though. We did recover what she was after last night.”

  Tom nodded. “She’s one scary woman, sir.”

  Rylen chuckled, “Yes she is. But you’re a big tough guy, you don’t need to fear her.”

  Tom looked at Rylen with a raised eyebrow then down at himself. Tom was a thin and scrawny kid that had a little magic, not good for much except technology. When it came to electronics and tech stuff, he and Poppy were some of the best Rylen had on the team. Tom didn’t seem to have much style either; wearing old white washed denim and a T-shirt with the name of a local band on it was pretty much his basic attire. His sandy blonde hair was cut short. Overall, he was a pretty clean-cut kid of sixteen, but his parents threw him out wh
en they realized he could hack into almost anything and that he used magic to do it. Rylen had come across him about a year ago when he Tom was trying to steal from a mark—after he had shut down the complicated security system—that Rylen had been doing recon on. Rylen offered him a job and a place to live. The offer was too good for Tom to refuse, plus at the time he had nowhere else to go.

  “It’s okay, Tom, the key is not to let her see you’re afraid. She preys on fear,” Rylen instructed. “But you’re in my Lair and a part of my clan. I take care of what’s mine. If you can get the system ready for her transmission, I can do the rest.” Rylen took another sip of his coffee. “Set up a trace too. Let’s see if we can find her this time,” Rylen whispered and patted Tom on the shoulder. Tom nodded and began pushing buttons to call up the large digital screen that appeared in front of them.

  As Tom finished preparing all the digital details, Enock and Mather came in and sat down near the door. The command center wasn’t a large room, but it had several rows of theatre style seating orchestrated behind several chairs at a long desk in front of various computer stations. Some of the monitors watched the hotel’s and their entrances. One monitor with a split screen watched an empty room within the Lair and the other watched a guard standing outside a closed door. The largest screen was responding to whatever Tom was doing on the keyboard below it.

  Rylen signaled to the guys behind him to listen but stay out of camera shot. They nodded in understanding, having done this before. Rylen sat casual and relaxed in his chair waiting on the she-demon that controlled the Web. Rylen wasn’t actually sure if she was a demon, but that was his best guess especially since she had found and retrieved him from hell. She had magic, but it was different than his, and like her namesake—the black widow spider—she lured prey to her and they were never heard from again. Rumors reported she fed from them, their energy and possibly more, but no one knew for sure. They simply disappeared.

  When she found Rylen many years back, he was in a bad state, but something about him or his magic kept her from destroying him. She found a place for him in her Web, and he moved up in her ranks and in her favor. Rylen eventually found himself placed in the northwest arm of the Web. Brent, his then leader, had been taken and presumably killed by the Fairfax group, and Rylen was given his position. Rylen believed their Headquarters was compromised and he got his new clan settled in the Lair they have now. The only stipulation from the Black Widow: he had five years to take out her—and their—greatest enemy to prove he could own his position. If not, then it would be taken from him. But Rylen had plans not only for his clan, but the entire Web. He wanted it. But first, he had to keep his clan, his family, and for that he would do anything.

  “Rylen, so nice to see you this morning. I’m assuming you have good news for me,” the Widow’s smooth feminine voice came across the speakers. Her face was large on the video screen. Rylen struggled not to react, but it was unnerving. Her eyes were large black orbs within her pale heart-shaped face. She could almost be called beautiful, but those obsidian eyes—eyes that reflected only your own image and nothing of her soul—made you want to wet yourself. The Widow was cold and ruthless. She got what she wanted and she had ways to make that happen. Her black hair was coiffed up in a french twist with a teased section centered on the top that was mostly blood red. It was almost cartoonish, the red stripe down the middle, like a vaudeville skunk. It could’ve been comical, but it wasn’t.

  “Madam Widow, it is a nice morning. And even more so now that I have had the pleasure of seeing you,” Rylen bowed his head at the screen. From his time with her over the years, Rylen knew her name was Serena. Hardly anyone called her that, however, as she preferred to be known as her position within the Web.

  “Don’t patronize me, Rylen. I can hear the sardonic tone within your words,” she eyed him with disdain. Not a second later, she tilted her head and had an expression of curiosity. “I can hear your boys in the background, Rylen, tell them if they want to eavesdrop, they need to not fidget.”

  “Of course, madam, they are simply here to ensure I don’t miss anything,” Rylen watched the Widow’s responses carefully. She was very animated in the way she turned her head to listen carefully to everything around her. He needed to remember that.

  “Now what news do you have for me?” she purred.

  “We have the stone you asked us to get you,” Rylen said as he pulled the glimmering red stone out of his pocket and held it up to the camera.

  “Very good. You know better than to try and pull something over on me, so I will trust that everything went well and that truly is the authentic stone.”

  “Indeed, all went well and it is the stone. Shall we arrange a meet up with one of your men to make the delivery?”

  Black Widow stilled as if listening to something no one else could hear, not even the shifters. A corner of her lip lifted. “No pet, it will be a gift for you—a reward for your faithfulness, a prize for your accomplishment. Keep it somewhere safe but where you can cherish it.” She was almost giddy in her response.

  “Thank you,” Rylen inclined his head. “However, I must inform you that I caught sight of a tattoo on one of the guests present in the building. It may be a coincidence, or perhaps somehow the Fairfax group got wind of our presence, but one of their people was there. He didn’t engage us, but was simply there. What do you make of that?”

  The Widow held up her hands close to her mouth, showing off her black nails perfectly manicured. “That is interesting indeed. You might have a mole in your midst, dear one.” She continued to think. Her black eyes twitched slightly as she looked around the room through the screen. “This means they are close to your location. This is your chance, Rylen. Be the leader I know you can be. I will see what I can learn through my connections within the Web. Find where they are and destroy them,” she hissed then her side of the screen winked out.

  Rylen let out a breath of relief. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.” He looked up at Enock and Mather behind him.

  “She is creepy,” Enock shuttered, shaking out his appendages.

  “You know you want to see if you could withstand her hypnotizing clutches,” Mather said with a laugh.

  Enock slugged him. “I think the only person who could be in her clutches and live would be Luc.”

  They both laughed until Rylen shot them a look. Newly sobered, they waited for his direction.

  “Something is going on and I don’t like it. I meditated on what went down last night. It was a complete set up, but I can’t figure out by who. All I know is that we were the pawns and I don’t know why. But I will find out.” He paused and held up the stone to the light. It looked like solid blood and it gave him a bad feeling. He tossed it uncaringly to Enock. “Find somewhere to put this, would you?” Enock nodded and tucked the thing into his pocket. Rylen looked at both his boys. “I saw the girl the Oracle told me to watch for. She was there the whole time, but I didn’t see her when we were there. I can’t help this feeling I have that she is a part of the problem.”

  “Aren’t girls always a part of the problem?” Mather huffed out with his arms crossed over his chest, one hand stroking the full-yet-manicured dark beard crawling up the sides of his face to meet thick dark hair styled in a haphazard pompadour on top.

  “Girl problems, Mat?” Rylen asked with a smirk.

  “Nope. Not at the moment. They just usually stir shit up is all I’m saying.” Mather shifted his stance, putting his hands in his back pockets, signaling his discomfort. Mather resembled a lumber jack with his jeans tucked into his big black boots and his red plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing a white thermal underneath. With his hands behind him the bulky muscle of his arms displayed intimidation, yet to those who knew him, he was playful and fiercely protective.

  Rylen gave his shoulder a squeeze as he passed him. “All right, let’s get out of here and let Tom have his command center back.”

  As they walked out, Rylen n
odded his thanks to Tom who was standing in the hall waiting. Tom walked back in when Enock said to him, “She’s all yours, Tom.”

  Tom froze in his place. “Is she… is she still in there?” he stuttered out.

  “Oh, no man. I just meant your space, you can have it back. You’re in there so much, it’s like she’s your ball and chain,” Enock said trying to explain to Tom who visibly relaxed.

  “Oh, okay. Thanks,” Tom muttered weakly as he turned and went back inside.

  “It takes all the fun out of talking when you have to explain it,” Enock sighed.

  “Let’s go, big guy,” Rylen pushed Enock forward as he laughed. “We got recon work to do.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Not long after their meeting with the Black Widow, Rylen and company met Lucius, Gracie, Mai, and Lola in the Throne room—which for all intents and purposes was really a large assembly room. He really preferred to meet in the Den, but several of the other members were playing video games on the big screen. Not all the members lived at the Lair, but they had an open door invitation to be there. It was their sanctuary.

  Mather and Enock grabbed and dragged a large, old wooden table in front of the throne so Rylen could sit in his chair and still be at the table. Everyone else grabbed their own chairs and brought them over. Just as Luc was about to pick up a second chair, the Oracle spoke.

  “I can get my own chair just like everyone else, Lucius,” she sighed.

  “Yes, you can.” Lucius still picked up the chair and brought it over to sit in between Lola and Mather. He then sat himself next to Rylen on the other side.

  Gracie rolled her eyes, but sat down graciously. “Thank you.”

  “Wow, what did you do to get treated like a princess?” Lola asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve been trying to get them to use manners and treat us like ladies for years,” Mai said as she examined her black fingernails for chips.