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“That’s why I made sure Rylan’s fate can’t be decided by The Rites.”
“What did you do?”
“I made sure her future was set in stone.” A slow smile spreads over my face but it doesn’t reach my eyes. I want to watch Rylan fly, live the life she wants, not controlled by others. But she can only soar in a cage now. It’s the same fate we all share.
“Stone on whose foundation?” Torben asks. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, trying to hide my pain because what I did will harm me. It cost me a great deal to make sure Rylan would be safe after I got my revenge.
Torben uncrosses his arms. “You didn’t force Alister to give her to you, did you?”
Turning, I square my shoulders, face him fully, and then I tell him about the final deal I made with Alister.
CHAPTER 18
Rylan
What do you wear when you go on a date with your stalker?
With a sigh, I reach for the nearest black dress. My sanity is at risk if I remain in this closet any longer. I put the dress on the bed and go shower, shave, and scrub every inch of me.
I’m just going to pretend this is normal. Maybe it is in this new life.
Turning off the water, I grab the fluffy towel and wrap it around myself. I spend the next hour blow-drying my hair; the long brown layers look shiny once I’m done. I should take more time to do this, but I’ve never had a reason to before. I’ve never been on a real date, just one-night stands at nightclubs, fast escapes before I had to return home to work. I was always inside hacking for Frank.
Frank’s dead. My hands start to shake as I wrap the cord around the blow dryer and put it back into the cabinet. I haven’t processed that yet. I don’t know if I want to; why give him more of my time and brain power?
Tonight, I grant myself one night of reckless freedom. A single escape before the question returns. Just one night.
I raid the cabinet that’s filled with all the stuff I had back home. I decide to use my face tint, mascara, and my favorite peach-lemonade-flavored lip oil.
Freshly wrapped in my towel, I step out and freeze.
A black box with a glossy red bow sits on my bed, daring me to open it. I untie the ribbon, muttering, “If he thinks I’ll wear a dress he picked, he’s dreaming.”
I have to draw a line. Stalking is one thing; trying to dress me like a doll is not going to happen.
Inside the box, a card on top of the tissues reads: No more lace.
“What?” I wrinkle my nose, confusion blooming. I tear through the tissue paper and dissolve into giggles. The panties inside are pink-striped with strawberries—cute, but the cut is a nightmare. They’re so high-waisted they could double as a diaper.
I toss them aside and examine the bra. Whoever picked this has never worn one. It’s flimsy cotton with no support, destined to turn my breasts into sad, slouching pancakes by midnight.
I shove the box away, my smirk lingering. This is his surrender—he doesn’t care what I wear, only that I show up.
I slip into the lace underwear from the closet—this is a date, after all—and skip the bra. The dress hugs me tight enough, and honestly, bras are my sworn enemy.
A knock sounds at my door and sends my heart into overdrive. “Come in,” I shout.
Smiling, Steffen opens the door, a rose in his hand, and offers a greeting. He parts his lips to speak, but freezes. His eyes look me up and down, sending my body into an overheated flush.
“You look beautiful, Rylan,” he finally says. As he draws nearer, he looks like sin imprisoned in solid flesh; his blue eyes beg me to set him free. He’s got on simple black pants and a long-sleeved gray shirt.
My eyes drop to his belt and its shiny silver rectangular buckle. “You look nice,” I mumble, cringing at my robotic delivery. I’m pure binary code—ones and zeros, no spark. Where’s my passion? Truth is, he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
Understatement of the century. He looks so far out of my league I should shrivel up and crawl under my mattress.
But the way he looks at me has me standing taller. Like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s seen, and it’s his honor to have me by his side.
Pride. It’s all over his face.
