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"You're not a fucking fake," I say firmly, leaning up to press a quick, fierce kiss to his lips. "You're just special."

"The only thing I truly share with them is the urge," Ryker admits, his tail curling a little tighter around my leg. "The deep, instinctual need to protect a ward. But while they choose a building or a gate... my heart chose a human with purple hair."

My chest swells so tightly it almost hurts. I rest my forehead against his. "I'm really glad your heart has good taste."

I let a moment of comfortable silence settle between us before I roll onto my back, stretching my arms above my head. "You know, in a weird way, I kind of get that feeling of being isolated. Being an idol felt like living in a gilded cage."

Ryker turns onto his side, propping his head up on his hand to look down at me. "Yeah? You don't miss the K-pop stage?"

"Not even a little bit," I laugh softly, shaking my head. "I was twenty years old, running on three hours of sleep, performing intense choreography, and maintaining a fake, squeaky-clean persona twenty-four hours a day. The contract was only for one year, thank the monster gods. But during that year, I landed a tiny guest role on a historical K-drama. The second I stepped onto a set and got to embody a character—to tell a real story instead of just smiling at a camera—I was hooked. Acting saved me. It gave me a life I actually chose for myself."

"And you're brilliant at it," Ryker says earnestly. "I've seen you practicing. You transform the second you read a script."

A wicked, flirty thought suddenly sparks in my mind. I look up at him through my eyelashes, biting my lower lip. "Speaking of scripts... you know, running lines with you in the suite has been a total game-changer for me."

Ryker tilts his head, an amused glint appearing in his eyes. "Oh yeah? How so?"

"Well," I purr, sliding my leg up his thick thigh, feeling the hot, smooth texture of his skin against mine. "We're shooting the big romantic sequence for Empire of Beasts this week. Caylen is a great actor, but when I'm standing on set running romantic dialogue with him..."

Ryker’s eyes darken slightly, his protective jealousy rearing its head in the most delicious way. "What?"

"I'm not picturing Caylen," I whisper. "I'm picturing a massive, brooding, purple gargoyle with gorgeous wings and striking eyes. It makes the romantic tension in my scenes look insanely real, because I'm literally just remembering how you make me hard."

Ryker lets out a low, rough growl, his wings flaring open behind him. In one swift, effortless movement, he shifts over me, pinning my wrists gently beside my head on the pillows. His broad chest hovers inches from mine, his heat instantly washing over my bare skin.

"Is that so, brat?" he rasps, his glowing blue eyes searching mine with intense hunger. "You're using your bodyguard for acting research?"

"It's called method acting, Mr. Bodyguard," I pant, arching my hips up just enough to feel the hard cock pressing against my thigh. "And I think I need to rehearse my lines right now."

"We can run lines," Ryker growls softly, dipping his head down to press a hot, bruising kiss against the sensitive skin of my neck, making me gasp aloud. "Right after I make sure you remember every fucking line of my script."

I laugh, tangling my fingers in his dark hair, yanking him down to claim my lips.

Chapter sixteen

Ryker

The quiet hum of my sewing machine is a therapeutic, subtle hum to my soul. Knowing that I used to do this for a living, even if I don’t remember it, soothes something inside of me. It’s just past midnight on the night before the Creepin U Halloween Masquerade Ball. On the floor of the bonus room, rolls of heavy material, silk lining, and reinforced boning are laid out across Zay’s art table and Kieran’s walking pad.

I’m sitting on a low stool, my wings folded tightly behind my back to avoid knocking over Teagan’s vanity mirrors. My clawed hands move across the delicate fabric with fluid, effortless grace. I feed a length of midnight-black cloth beneath the needle, watching the stitches align in a straight seam.

I’m shocked that I don’t seem to need a pattern. My fingers simply know where to cut and where to taper.

For myself, I’m crafting a tailored, dark guardian ensemble: a high-collared, sleeveless vest structured from obsidian brocade that accommodates the massive span of my wings and tail, paired with fitted leather trousers. But my true masterpiece sits on the dress form across from me: a royal-blue and gold prince coat designed specifically for Teagan. The gold embroidery along the lapels matches the exact hue of his eyes when the light hits them, and the tapered waist will highlight his silhouette under the ballroom chandeliers.

A soft knock at the doorframe breaks my concentration.

Teagan stands there, rubbing his eyes, wearing an oversized hoodie that swallows his small frame. He smiles, stepping into the cluttered room and wrapping his arms around my shoulders from behind. "You're still working?" he murmurs. "Ryker, the ball is tomorrow night. You need to rest."

"Almost done, Teag," I reply. I tilt my head back to press a soft kiss against his plush lips. "Just finishing the gold trim on your cuffs. A prince can't go to a masquerade in unfinished tailoring."

Teagan glances at the royal-blue coat, his dark eyes widening with genuine awe. "Monster gods, Ryker, this is incredible. It looks like something straight off a runway."

Wrapping my tail around his leg, I pull him closer. "Well, I made it for you. Only the best for my mate."

"Aw, my sweet, sexy, brilliant tailor," Teagan says. "Get some rest soon, okay? We have an early shoot on set tomorrow before the ball."

"Okay, Tae. I will," I promise.