That was the reason, beyond Wright's anger and guilt, she suspected all ties with her old friend would sever forever. He would always be on the hunt. He would always be looking for her—the mad vampire that had taken Amber's life—and even if he found her, Izzie doubted he'd remember how to stop.
Izzie hoped he did some day, for both his and his daughter's sake. Berlie deserved more from her father. She deserved the life she wanted, not the one chosen for her.
Though Izzie worried it was already too late to save Berlie from her father's fate.
Later that night, outside The Wall, Izzie stood in companionable silence with Wright. They didn't speak for a while. She didn't know what to say, or if there were words enough to capture whatever it was their relationship had been until now. What he'd been to her—a savior, confidant, brother and friend. The angry words of their last parting sat forgotten. If there was a chance of reconciliation, though, she couldn't see the way.
"You love him," Wright said at last. He kept his gaze on the ground. "You really do."
"I really do."
"Izz—"
She held up a hand. "I know. You don't understand. You think he's—"
"I don't know what I think." Wright sighed, kicking his steel-toed boot along the curb. "He had the chance to kill me and he didn't. Not even after I damn near killed you."
"That wasn't your fault," she said softly.
"Yes, it fucking was."
"I made the choice."
"'Cause I forced you."
Izzie wet her lips. "I would have made the decision one way or another. Maybe not as soon, but I know I would have. Ryker's worth that to me."
Apparently the statement was enough to overpower the man's guilt. Wright looked at her in awe.
She looked back, and continued, "I love him. It's worth it. He's . . . this is mine, Zack. Not yours, not Harrison's. I finally have something that's mine. And someone who doesn't try to make me something I'm not."
He stared at her a moment longer. "I'm sorry I did that."
"No, you're not. Not really. And I'm not, either. Knowing you changed my life."
"Mine, too."
She smiled softly. "No. It didn't."
"More than you think."
Perhaps that was true. Even if it wasn't, she'd like to think it was. "Tell Berlie I love her," she said. "And you, too."
Wright swallowed hard, fisting the cross around his neck. Her keepsake. "Guess you want this back."
She looked at it for a moment, searching for those things she'd once kept close. Harrison, the past, the bloody reminder of the place from which she'd saved herself. Yet, strangely, that cold piece of comfort didn't appeal to her as it had once. Not as she remembered. Harrison's ghost didn't have a home against her chest anymore. That life was gone—lost in a flash of arrow and fang. She didn't want her father controlling this one, as well. Izzie the girl had died. Izzie the vampire had no need of ghosts.
"Keep it," she said.
"Keep it," he repeated dumbly.
"To remember me. Or give it to Berlie. Harrison's a closed chapter."
Again, he stared. "This is real, isn't it? What changed you. Him. Ryker . . . it's real."
"Yes. It's very real." Izzie smiled. "Be good to yourself, Zack."
Wright seemed to remember his remorse then. He blinked hard and tore away his gaze. "I don't know if I can."
"Try."
"You too, Izz. Make sure he takes care of you."
"He will."
Izzie threw her arms around Wright's neck before he had a chance to dart away. She squeezed him to her chest, caressed his cheek with a kiss, then moved inside the pub. Goodbyes weren't exactly her strong suit, and she knew they weren't his. And perhaps it wasn't goodbye after all. Perhaps there was a chance for a rebuilt relationship in the future.
It seemed doubtful, but she could hope.
Ryker sat waiting for her at what she supposed she'd forever consider their booth. It was the second night The Wall had been closed for business, and though she knew it would likely hurt Connor's pocketbook, she couldn't deny her relief at being allowed some privacy. Where to go and what to do from here seemed a longer conversation than the confines of the barkeep's sloppy upstairs would allow.
Uncertainty was both terrifying and invigorating.
"Connor called his brother," Ryker said as she pulled up a chair. "His niece, Faith, is gonna do what she can to learn more about the facility."
Izzie nodded. Iowa. The cell. The others locked inside. Just thinking about it exhausted her. "Good."
Ryker held her gaze. "How'd it go with Butch?"
"Good," she said again. "I don't know if he understands, but . . . I dunno, maybe he does." She expelled a deep breath. "What happens now?"
"I'd say you and I ride off into the sunset, but that'd be a bit dangerous."
"We could always ride off into the moonlight," Izzie offered.
He smirked and reached across the table for her hand. She loved the way his fingers felt against her skin.
"I go where you go," Ryker said.
She felt the truth in his words, felt the eagerness to do whatever it was that pleased her, and warmth engulfed her whole. The world lay at her feet. Move, stay, sleep in, stay out. The options were endless, and they were all hers.
No, theirs. They were theirs.
"I want us to choose together," Izzie said slowly. "But personally, I think I'd like to stay here."
"Here?"
She nodded. "It's as much a home as any other place. And I love Connor."
Ryker grinned. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Not like you love me, I hope."
Izzie's nose wrinkled. "Umm . . . eww? Not that kinda girl. But even if I was . . . eww."
"Thank Christ."
"And I know we haven't talked about this, but I don't wanna share you, either. It's just us."
Ryker lifted her hand to his mouth. "You're all I want," he whispered, and kissed her skin. "All I ever want."
"Forever?"
"A thousand forevers."
"You're sure?"
He nodded. "Won't be all wine and roses. You'll hate me some days, but that'll be fodder for round after round of makeup sex."
She giggled and he grinned.
"But this?" Ryker continued, gesturing between them with his free hand. "I've been around long enough to know what I've been looking for when I see it, and you're it. I want you now, tomorrow, and every day and night after."
Izzie worried a lip between her teeth. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Why did Prentiss call you Niles?"
A moan hissed through his teeth and his head dropped. "Fuck."
"What?"
"It's my name."
That was a surprise. "Your name? I thought—"
"I was born Niles Arnold Ryker the Third."
Izzie giggled again. "Oh God. I'm undead and my boyfriend's name is Niles."
"You're funny."
"Comedy was always my first career choice. I skipped that day, though and ended up in the 'How to Kick Demon Ass' seminar instead. Niles."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "I fucking hate that name. Just Ryker, please."
"Whatever you say." A pause. "Nilesy."
"Hey!"
"Nilesy-wilesy."
He scowled. "Stop it."
"Stop what, Niles?"
"Forget funny. You're downright hilarious." He pouted. "I suppose I could call you Izzie Wizzie."
Izzie blinked at him, then burst out laughing again. "Oh fuck."
"What?"
"I love you."
Ryker beamed. "I love you, too."
"Even if I call you Niles?"
"Yes. But don't push it."
Epilogue
He wasn't the type of guy to spout sonnets, but, damn, there were nights she made him consider it.
Watching her was one of his favorite pastimes—a simple luxury he would have once taken for granted but now t
reasured. It sat alongside kissing her before they fell asleep and waking up with her in his arms. Small things he wouldn't have considered as essential to a relationship—things he hadn't known to miss every day before she became his.
Much like the night they first locked gazes, Izzie was engaged in combat with three slow-witted vamps. She twisted, turned, ducked, and blocked each feeble attempt to catch her off guard, never slowing, never tiring. And, though she had it on her, she had yet to flash her dagger in warning. This wasn't about a kill. She hadn't drawn blood since Michael, and, even then, Ryker had been the one to end his cousin's life.
"All right, boys," Izzie said, her stance relaxing. "I think you've had enough."
Her three opponents stood on the other side of the alley, all panting in exhaustion, one bent with his hands on his knees.
"The . . . fuck . . . are you, lady?" one whined.
"I'm Connor's muscle. Let's call this a warning, shall we? Start shit up again, and I won't be so pleasant." Izzie offered a friendly smile, slowly retrieving her dagger from where she now kept it in her boot. "Trust me when I say I know how to use this."
Ryker grinned and stepped out of the shadows. The three goons jumped in shock; Izzie just arched her eyebrows at him.
"Lurk much?" she drawled.
"You snuck outta bed early. Fella wonders." He smirked and nodded to her new friends. "And here I find you're taking on three guys at once?"
"I know. They didn't even have the courtesy to buy me dinner."
The designated group leader found his voice again long enough to ask, "Wh-who are you?"
"The guy who'll fuck you up and good if I see you're causing my lady trouble." Ryker paused. "'Course, that in itself would be a wonder. See, she used to be a demon hunter."
"I did," Izzie agreed. "Not so much anymore, but I could be persuaded into coming out of retirement if I hear you three have given Connor anything resembling a headache. Think you can remember that?"
The trio exchanged glances then nodded rapidly. "Yes," the spokesman ventured. "W-we won't be back."
"All right." Izzie nodded. "Now haul ass."
Like three bats out of Hell, they went, scurrying loudly up the alleyway until they were out of sight.
Once he was satisfied they were alone, Ryker smirked and swayed toward his lady with intent. "Connor asked you to do that?"
"They were being obnoxious. I offered to put the fear of God in them."
"Awful hospitable of you."
Izzie grinned, throwing her arms around his neck. "And for the record, I tried like eighteen times to wake you up after he called me."
"You put me in a sex-induced coma. Not complaining, but let's give credit where credit's due."
"Even still," she said, "You're not the easiest guy to . . . erm . . . ."
"To what? Arouse?" He dipped his head and nuzzled her mouth. "I disagree."
She made a face. "You know what I mean."
"It's not my fault I willfully misunderstand."
Izzie chuckled. "No, of course not."
"Mmm. You know what we haven't done in a while?" Ryker hiked her into his arms without awaiting permission and carried her over to one of the alley buildings so she was sandwiched between him and the wall.
"Done the nasty in a nasty place?"
His hand slipped under the waistband of her leggings. "You read my mind."
"Ryker, we have—"
"All the time we want."
Izzie licked her lips, then favored him with one of those looks that made him fall in love with her all over again. "I'll try to be quiet."
He palmed her mound, his fingers dipping between her wet pussy lips. He spread her wide and tapped her swollen clit once for good measure. "Oh please," Ryker murmured, inching an eager digit inside her. "Not for my sake."
"Ryker—"
"My love?"
"Why aren't you inside me?"
He frowned and plunged another finger into her hot, tight hole. "You didn't say please."
"Don't make me make you beg."
Ryker laughed. If anyone could, it'd be her.
Izzie's hands busied themselves at his belt buckle before she grew impatient and ripped the offending leather in half in one of the best uses of her newfound strength he could summon to mind. In seconds, his erect cock was in her cool, tight grasp.
"Now. Fast," she whimpered.
"No. Slow, hard, and dirty."
"Just do it."
Ryker grinned and kissed her, and she sucked him in like a vortex.
"I love you," he whispered against her lips.
"I love you, too."
"Now where do you want me, again?"
Izzie whimpered and squeezed his cock. "Oh, bite me."
"I'm telling you, you gotta say please."
"Fine, have it your way."
"Always do."
"Please," she murmured, then swallowed him in a kiss.
Clothing shuffled and fell away, then he was clenched inside the only home he'd ever known, wrapped around her, drowning in her. Over and over again—night after night. This was the peace for which he'd searched without knowing, and if he had his way, they'd never spend a night apart.
Forever wouldn't be long enough. It was, however, one hell of a start.
About the Author
A lifelong enthusiast of larger-than-life characters, Rosalie Stanton's muse is fueled by alpha males, from badass bikers to scruffy-looking Nerf herders, and the intelligent, strong and independent women who actually do the driving. She loves interweaving the lives of people who appear to be polar opposites and delving beneath the surface to see how well one actually complements the other.
Rosalie lives in Missouri with her husband. Writing is her first creative love, but she also enjoys working with other authors and has a variety of critique partners, and likewise works as an editor. At an early age, she discovered a talent for creating worlds into which she could escape. Over the years, her vivid imagination evolved into a love of words and storytelling. Rosalie graduated with a degree in English and is now a multi-published author. Neither writing nor editing pays the bills, but thankfully her day-job employers understand where her true passion lies. When her attention is not engaged by writing or editing, she enjoys spending time with close friends and family.
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