Know Thine Enemy

CHAPTER Fifteen



Pig's blood provided what he needed with all the appeal of off-brand cola, but Ryker couldn't find the heart to complain. The blood went a long way to stifle his hunger for Izzie, and any advantage was a good advantage. Every time his gaze landed on her throat, it was all he could do to keep himself from possessing her fully and stealing her options regarding the future.

Two more bites. All it would take to turn her. Two more bites and he'd have the luxury of knowing she'd be in the world as long as he.

It wasn't his decision. F*ck, he didn't pretend to think rationally where she was concerned.

By the time he returned from his evening hunt, Izzie had moved back into her bedroom. Disappointment rushed through his tired body, but he supposed it was for the best. Cornering her into a conversation before she was ready to open up wouldn't do either one of them any favors. He might be an impatient bastard, but he didn't want to make her feel any more awkward or self-aware than she did already.

He refused to pursue her when the space between them was cast in shadow and uncertainty.

Ryker collapsed onto the sofa, sighing hard. It would be a while before he could coax his body to sleep. This time of night was typically his most active. Trolling the alleys, downing shots at The Wall, listening to Connor tell the usual stories the way a lounge singer clung to the familiar songs. Hard to believe such little time had passed from the place he knew and the place he now occupied. Hard to believe he was here at all because Connor wanted to ensure Izzie's presence wouldn't put anyone in danger.

Another long sigh rolled off his lips and he found himself reaching for the television remote, though he really wasn't in the mood to watch anything. He turned on the tube but didn't look up. Any attempts at a distraction would be brushed aside. He knew his mind too well. At the very least, cable news would help numb the quiet.

Ryker hated the quiet. He hated the burden of being left with his thoughts, especially when everything felt as miserably f*cked as it did now.

The softer sentiments. He'd thought he'd left them behind somewhere—buried in Caroline's empty casket. It had been such a long time since anyone touched him, since he felt the urge to make himself vulnerable for someone else.

He could only imagine what was going through Izzie's head, and he didn't care to explore it in depth. The weight of all that had passed, not to mention the uncertainty of what the future held, tossed in with a vampire she barely knew and sensations her body hadn't been ready to experience. No, he didn't envy her.

He just wished he knew how to make it better.

Still, he couldn't deny how much he loved watching her. Izzie's strength, despite her confusion, was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed. She pieced herself together, doing her best not to lean or rely on an outside hand, no matter how willingly it might be offered. Her connection with Wright was not one of dependence. She hadn't been brainwashed into adapting a lifestyle; she'd taken Wright's method and perfected it to suit her needs. She hadn't condemned Ryker for doing what he'd done while being what he was, nor had she run screaming back to the life she'd abandoned the second they touched free air.

She wasn't the sort of girl he typically met.

And not being near her now, while he understood and respected whatever she needed from him, was almost worse than the cell. At least in the cell he knew what his options were. Now, he knew what he wanted, but going after it came at the potential expense of everything he and Izzie had worked toward since that first encounter in the alley.

"F*ck."

He sat so long he'd forgotten he turned on the television. When he glanced up, the screen showed a woman sucking hard on a man's cock, her eyes wide and eager. It seemed so randomly out of place Ryker blinked dumbly before accepting his sex-warped mind wasn't hallucinating. After all, he'd been on a bit of an overload as of late, but he hoped he remembered what a smut film looked like.

And he did. The former soap opera star smiled and pulled at her screen-partner's prick, her tits huge and abusively fake, her sun-blonde hair an obvious dye-job. She opened her mouth and rolled out her tongue in anticipation.

"F*ck," he repeated, reaching again for the remote. Izzie had evidently activated the mute feature, but he was less concerned with that and more intrigued by the notion she'd been watching porn. She'd had the television on when he emerged from his room, but this was unlike any Twilight Zone episode he remembered. Had she, when he left . . . watched this?

Strangely, frantic coupling between a faceless male and a woman who had prematurely aged twenty years did nothing for him, not even on a visual level. It wasn't for lack of trying. Ryker's hand knew its role and slid obediently into his pants. He palmed his cock, which remained woefully uninterested no matter how hard he tugged. Visual aids had never proved problematic in the past, but then there was something to be said for the mental comparison of moonlight skin and the cinematic raisin-fleshed blonde currently getting pounded from behind. But then, Ryker had never attempted to jerk off while looking at one thing and fantasizing about another. There had never been a need.

Disgusted, he shut off the television and bounded to his feet.

"Can't get no satisfaction," he murmured, wandering into the bathroom. There seemed little point in prolonging his discomfort. Visual media might not do it for him now, but his mind had a catalogue of every sweet sound Izzie had made during their sessions. Every soft sigh, every coo. He knew how she tasted, how she clamped around his fingers, how she bucked against his tongue. He knew her smell. He knew how beautiful she was when she came.

His cock hardened at the thought. Oh yeah, that could get him there. Without the distraction of a bulbous-titted soap star and her former child-actor bedmate.

For whatever reason, the shower provided an escape the world outside could not. Perhaps it was the splatter of water against his skin or the sound of rainfall confined within the room, but with his eyes closed and his hands rubbing his face, he could imagine himself a million worlds away. He could picture Izzie kneeling before him, her expression nothing like the faux blonde from the porno, her hand curling around his swelling erection, her mouth curved in the soft, hesitant smile unique to her sweet face.

She would be timid, he assumed. It seemed unlikely Wright would have asked her to get on her knees, especially since she had been a virgin.

Ryker tensed at the thought, the usual wave of possessive hatred coursing through him with rehearsed precision. Every time he pictured the other man in any regard, he was consumed with the need to smash something heavy. It made f*ck all sense, as he wasn't the sort to grow jealous over the little things. His bed certainly hadn't lacked company over the years, and since Izzie was in no sense his to claim—and hell, even if she was—the past was the past, and it wasn't logical getting torn up over what couldn't be changed.

Instead, Ryker expelled a calming breath as his thoughts drifted back to more pleasant things. Things like Izzie's mouth around him, her fingers squeezing his shaft as her lips tightened around the head of his cock. She'd palm his sac with gentle curiosity, caress him slowly, mindful of his reactions. Christ, he could nearly feel her tongue swirling around him, licking, loving, and worshipping every thick inch as she pulled him deeper and deeper . . . .

"F*ck," Ryker gasped, milking his cock to a hollow release. Water beat down across his back. He blinked rapidly as he drifted down again.

Not anywhere near satisfied. Likely the best he could manage.

He stepped out of the shower, dried off, and caught himself before he cast his towel aside and instead wrapped it around his waist. It wasn't as though Izzie would be up, or that she hadn't already seen and felt all his naughty bits, but he didn't want to chance it, anyway.

Ryker stepped into the hallway. The cabin seemed darker now, almost like the sun had set farther away than usual. He glanced at Izzie's closed door as though willing it to open.

It didn't, of course. More forced distance then.

He could wait. He had forever.

He was a step deep toward the living room when he heard it—a small sigh. A gasp, really: a soft, sweet, achingly female gasp coming from Izzie's room. Ryker paused, the still air whispering promises against his cooling skin. He waited for what felt like forever, and then it came again. A gentle breath—a name.

No, his name.

"Ryker!"

This was where he was supposed to turn away, he was sure of it. Whatever was happening behind that door most certainly did not involve him. His name notwithstanding, Ryker had been around enough years to know the difference between being beckoned and being referenced. This was the latter. If she wanted him in there, she would have welcomed him. He definitely shouldn't view it as an invitation. Another time, another reality, perhaps, but not this one. Not now.

And yet, nothing could stop him. His hand was on the doorknob, his treacherous wrist twisting it open. The door swung in, and then he saw her. Naked with her ebony hair fanned around her head, contrasting her pearly skin with nearly godlike reverence. Her small delicate breasts stood firm, her dusky nipples pebbled. Her feet were on the mattress, her legs bent, and her hand was between them, stroking her p-ssy. And his name came again, riding off her lips, her eyes closed tight as though lost in a dream.

Ryker didn't realize he had moved forward until his gaze was on her *, the willing prisoner of her thumb and index finger. She had shaved her mound—God, when had she managed that? And why? F*ck all, but it didn't matter. He would watch her forever if she let him.

Only her smell, the sight—no, he didn't want to watch.

He cast her a brief look. Her eyes were still shut, her breathing smooth and regular. For all intents and purposes, she had no idea he was here.

Last chance, Niles. Turn around and walk the f*ck out.

Ryker shook his head, his watering mouth chasing the voice away. The closer he grew, the more intoxicated he became on her scent. How he managed to squeeze so close to her without drawing her attention was beyond him, but he didn't care enough to question it. Instead, he watched, trembling, as her fingers plunged into her slick hole, her hips arching off the bed. All the while soft mewls, all coated in his name, rode off her lips.

And then he couldn't stand it. F*cking hell, he never had a chance.

Ryker closed the space between them. He sealed his mouth over her * and pulled, eliciting a sharp gasp. Izzie jerked up but calmed almost immediately, though her body began shaking like he'd never felt it shake before, unlike anything he saw or experienced back in the cell. His eyes found hers and held, watching her as she watched him. He loved her * with the tip of his tongue, coaxing her fingers away from her p-ssy as one of his own slipped inside her welcoming body.

"Ryker," she whispered, her voice trembling.

He purred in response and slid a second finger inside her, his mouth leaving her wet flesh with a parting lick. "Sorry," he said. "Couldn't help myself."

"I—ohh . . . ."

"Heard you calling for me."

Her cheeks reddened and her gaze broke from his. "Oh."

"Wanted this too f*cking badly to ignore it." He sucked her * between his lips again, his fingers developing a modest tempo as they thrust in and out of her body. "You're so beautiful like this."

Izzie's blush deepened and though she looked like she might protest, she seemingly couldn't prevent her hips from rising off the mattress, coaxing his fingers deeper inside her. "I can't stop."

"Don't try."

"What happened back there—"

"Leave back there back there," Ryker murmured, slowly sliding his fingers away. "This is just us."

Izzie worried a lip between her teeth. "We thought that once before."

"Anyone tries to come in now and I'll kill them."

"I'll help."

"Izzie . . . ." He dropped a wet kiss on her opening, licking a path back to her *. "Let me have you now."

"I'm not sick?"

Ryker frowned. "What?"

"I want this." She met his eyes again at last, and the pain reflected there nearly tore him apart. "And I shouldn't."

"Because I'm a vampire?"

"No. Not that."

He studied her for a long moment before realization dawned. Before every guilty gasp echoed through his head, drawing him down a labyrinth of discovery. At once he was with her somewhere else, listening to her pleas for forgiveness for daring to take pleasure when he gave it. Nothing had changed for her so far as that was concerned—one hell traded for another.

"Oh, Izzie."

"I have to be some kind of sick, right?" she whispered. "To want something like this after everything that happened?"

Ryker dropped a kiss on her inner thigh, shivering. "You think it would've happened like that with anyone?"

"What?"

"Had I been someone else. Anyone else. You think you would've felt what you felt with me?"

Her response was instantaneous. "No."

"You liked me before, didn't you?"

"I didn't know you."

Ryker shrugged. "I liked you, and I didn't know you. Your eyes—"

"I was different."

"Heard that, have you?"

Her lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. "Once or twice."

"Well, what can I say? The truth's redundant. You fascinated me, and the more I saw the more I wanted to see." He held her gaze as he lowered his face to her p-ssy again, unable to resist licking a long lap between her vaginal lips. "That hasn't changed. Everything you do surprises me."

"Everything?"

"F*ck yes," he purred, his left hand scaling up her abdomen and coming to rest over her bellybutton. "You take me by storm."

Izzie's expression turned shy. "And you really . . . you really want me."

"Is there any doubt?"

"Well—"

"I told you back there I didn't fake a second of it."

She wet her lips and he swallowed a groan. "I didn't know what was real and what wasn't."

"I'm real. You're real. We're real together."

"Are we?"

Ryker grinned and sucked her * between his lips, watching eagerly as her head rolled back and a sigh trembled off her mouth. Almost instantly her body relaxed, her legs falling open to him, and if she wasn't the most gorgeous creature he'd seen, it would be the first time in over a century his eyes had failed him. The way she responded so passionately to the simplest touch, the raw heat in her gaze when she looked at him—yes, he felt she was real. Everything was real. Izzie wasn't the sort of girl who hid behind walls and spent the day wearing masks. She was genuine. She was the real f*cking deal.

And when she spoke, the word was, "Ryker."

"I love hearing you say my name like that," he whispered before dipping his tongue inside her ever so slightly. Then again, and again, and then he was consuming her in earnest. Every sinful caress his taste buds stole of her sodden flesh furthered him down a path of sexual inebriation. She was so hot. So supple. So juicy. And it kept coming. Lick after lick. There wasn't enough. She was going to drown him with her liquid sugar and he was her willing victim. There was no better way to go.

She gasped, flailing off the mattress. "Please!"

He pulled back just far enough to whisper, "Please what?" before renewing his assault.

"My . . . touch my . . . touch it again."

Ryker arched a brow, his mouth curving into a grin. "Touch your what again, darling?"

"You were just licking it!"

"Licking what?"

A long mewl rolled off her lips. "Ryker, please!"

"You can ask as much as you want," he replied between licks, his eyes dancing, his tongue plunging in and out of her in a manner that made his cock twitch with envy. "I'm not gonna know what you mean unless you say it."

"So unfair!" she complained half-heartedly, her hands fisting the bed sheets and yanking so tightly he was sure they would rip. "Don't—don't make me—"

"What?" His index finger continued its tortuous circle around her *, granting her the hint of touch without actually touching her.

God, she was a vision. Her skin damp with sweat, strands of her midnight-hair clinging to her forehead, her eyes wide and locked with his. So trusting. So open. He slid the hand he'd planted on her stomach upward to play with one of her nipples, and he had to fight off a chuckle when she dissolved into another long moan. She was so gorgeous like this, and he would never take her for granted.

"Don't make you what? Scream? Come till you can't come anymore? Help a fella out."

"Say it." Izzie gasped, thrusting herself wildly against his face.

Ryker blinked, all innocence. "Say what?"

"I hate you."

"Real convincing. Care to try again?"

At last, he got what he wanted. "My *. Please."

Her voice breathing life to that one illicit word was perhaps the most erotic thing he'd ever heard. Of course, she kept redefining eroticism.

"Izzie." He left his fingers to fill her opening, his mouth drawn immediately where she needed him. "You unmake me."

"I will if you don't—"

Ryker found her * and sucked hard. He rolled her around his mouth, attacked her with his tongue, pulled lightly on her flesh and relished her every cry. His fingers developed a natural rhythm, pushing her closer to the edge. Feeling her body tighten and her legs close around his face. Holding him there as he gobbled her up, as her juices spilled down his hand, as he drew her harder between his lips, shaking her, massaging her, loving her with his mouth. With everything he was.

"Ohh . . . oh my . . . oh my God—Ryker, oh my . . . ."

He wanted to encourage her but didn't dare tear himself away. Instead, he focused on relaying as much as possible with the strokes of his tongue. With his eyes. With every dip his fingers took inside her.

Drench me, baby. Drench me so good.

Her back bowed off the mattress a final time, and she exploded with a harsh cry, shaking so hard the bed shook with her. The walls swallowed her euphoric gasp and he abandoned her * to his fingers, rubbing her gently as his mouth greedily sucked in her spendings. She burned his throat and he couldn't get enough.

He could never get enough.

"Oh!"

Ryker didn't try to conceal his self-satisfied smirk. He couldn't. No more than he could keep his tongue from stealing one final lap of her p-ssy before he rose up on his hands and knees. "Mmm," he purred, dropping kisses along her belly as he made his way up her delectable body. "Feel real to you?"

"Shut up," she sniped affectionately, wrapping her arms around his neck and dragging him down for a long, desperate kiss.

"Mum's the word," he teased when their lips parted. He slid a hand between them. Then—Christ—his cock pressed against her naked p-ssy, the head exploring her wet folds, teasing them both mercilessly with little jerks of his hips. "You didn't like me f*cking you with my mouth?"

"I never said that."

"Well, if it didn't feel real—"

"It was amazing and you know it." Izzie bit at his lips desperately and began to reach between them.

"What are you doing?"

"What we didn't do."

Ryker sobered a moment, his eyes searching hers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Gotta warn you, once I've had you whole, I won't wanna let you go."

"Promise?"

His heart wrenched. "Izzie—"

"No, I know…I just…I need this with you." She licked her lips, her small hand at last finding his cock and giving it a firm squeeze. "It's only been once—"

"I know."

"And this, with you—it's so different."

"Good different?"

"Weird different."

Not exactly what he wanted to hear. Ryker arched an eyebrow.

"Okay, yeah, that sounded weird." She scrunched up her nose, then let out a deep breath. "I'm tired of fighting. Tired of fighting you, Briggs, Harrison, this whole f*cked up mess, and I'm definitely sick of fighting me. Before I wanted it because I thought it'd help me."

"With him." Ryker growled. He wouldn't mention the other man's name now. Not after what they'd shared.

"Yes."

"And now?"

Izzie was silent for a long moment. "You're the first person I've wanted. Really wanted. For me. The first. . . and this is what this is to me, and it's what I . . . . Please, even though you don't feel it, just pretend. Can we pretend? Pretend like we're somewhere else and you—"

"I what?"

"Pretend…God, this is gonna sound so weak, but I don't care anymore. Pretend, for me, right now, that love me? That we love . . . . I never—I'll never have that. Can we pretend?"

He knew it had happened before, but at that moment Ryker could honestly not remember anyone ever rendering him speechless. Izzie was his for the taking, and she'd stolen words off his lips.

And he knew then what he'd known for what felt like an eternity. What had started as an infatuation, and cemented into the real thing the second he saw her on the other side of his cell door.

He didn't have to pretend. The funny feeling in his chest.

He was in love with her.

Holy shit.

"Please," Izzie whispered, cupping his face and drawing him back. "Please pretend with me."

His heart sang and unneeded breath hitched in his throat. "Don't need to," he whispered, sinking inside her with a moan of completion. Nothing could be more perfect than her. Her p-ssy tightened around him as though determined to keep him locked in her body forever. "Oh Izzie. Izzie. So tight. So wet. Oh my God."

He'd never felt anything like this.

Her p-ssy clamped around him almost instantly, hugging his cock, pulling his flesh as though he'd always been made to be a part of her. As though her body identified him as a missing piece and was eager to invite him home. She was molten. She was the sun. Her soft, silky vaginal walls, slick with liquid fire, parted like a whisper. He was bathed in warmth, and in those seconds felt he at last knew himself.

Izzie flexed and whimpered beneath him. "Ryker."

"God, but you feel good," Ryker whispered. The words were an understatement. There had never been pleasure like this. Pleasure so rampant, his eyes crossed and he felt dangerously close to his happy ending at the simple feel of her. And beyond the physical awaited the knowledge that it was Izzie. Izzie's body beneath him. Izzie's heart thundering through her chest. Izzie's nails scoping trenches into his skin. Izzie's p-ssy squeezing his prick. Izzie's juices on his skin. It had taken forever to get here, but Izzie was with him.

Her breaths crashed against his lips. She was so open. So vulnerable. So completely his.

"This is different." She dug her nails into his forearms and gasped when he pulled away from her. Her breasts came up and she arced off the bed, taking him back, reclaiming him, marking him, pulling him into her p-ssy and squeezing so hard the world blinked into light. "So different than I thought."

"Good different, I hope," he murmured, driving into her a little rougher. The widening of her eyes had his heart jumping. He kissed the side of her mouth. "You've imagined this, then?"

"Lots of times."

The admission made him ache. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." A seductive little grin crossed her lips and she lifted her head to kiss him, her vaginal muscles constricting as he slipped a little deeper inside her. "Things I didn't think I should think about."

Ryker grinned and sucked her lower lip between his teeth, his left hand scaling down her side and hooking under her knee. The rhythm they kept was careful but perfect. He felt every crevice. Every pull of her flesh against his cock. The way she molded around him, drank him in. And as much as he loved loving her slowly, the raging beast in his chest was roaring toward an unsteady explosion. He needed her hot and writhing. He needed her scratching his back and screaming his name so loud, the walls shook. He needed everything.

He just needed.

"So good, Ryker. You feel . . . ."

She clenched him so perfectly with each thrust. His cock, slick with her juices, couldn't bury deep enough inside her. The springs of his bed whined with every plunge, the smacks of their bodies becoming heavier and more pronounced. His chest tightening as gasps pounded against his lungs. His eyes devoured her, his mouth helpless to keep from kissing her skin. Perfect. God, she was so perfect. So hot. So his.

"Tell me," he pleaded softly, nibbling on her lips. "Tell me how I feel."

"Feel like home."

Tears blinked behind her eyes, scaring him witless until he caught the euphoria behind them. Her hands traveled down his back until she had his ass at her mercy, and then she was driving him. Faster. Harder. Her head flew back and a soundless cry rode off her lips.

"Don't leave," she whimpered. "Never leave."

"Never could," Ryker swore, and God how he meant it. He thrust harder still. Rougher. "I could never leave, Izzie. I love you. F*ck, I love you so much."

"You what?"

"I love you."

She stared at him, then raised herself as far up as she could, their rocking bodies coming to a halt. "This is real, isn't it? You aren't pretending."

He shook his head. "Not pretending."

"Really?" The look on her face was somewhere between incredulous and hopeful. "You love me?"

The question startled him but he wasn't about to break away from a challenge. "Like the sky has stars," he replied, and sealed the words with a kiss as his body began to move again. "That's how I love you."

Izzie blinked rapidly and kissed him again before falling back to the mattress, her hips again dancing with his.

She only said one word—"Oh"—her voice was so soft he thought for a second that he'd dreamed it. That was, until her face crumbled and she began crying in earnest. Tears she needed. Tears she gave him as he pumped hotly into her p-ssy, bathing her face with kisses.

"Ryker."

Ryker released her leg at last and slipped his hand between their battling bodies in search of her *. "I'm here," he promised. "I've got you. I've always got you."

He found her, rubbed her, and watched her dissolve. Her eyes locked with his and held. He felt her tense and tighten around him. Felt her hold on—and then she was gone. Crying. Trembling. Coming so hard she pulled him right along with her.

Her arms went around his neck again, her lips ravaging his with desperation he recognized. Desperation he'd never thought anyone could feel for him. But there it was—she consumed his lips and claimed his tongue, cleansing him with her tears.

"I love you," he told her again. "I do. I do, Izzie."

"I know."

He let her say it, let her feel it, but he doubted she realized exactly how much power she now held in her small hands. She could unravel him with a word. It was the first time since his human life he'd given someone the power to destroy him.

But she wouldn't. Somehow he knew. Somehow, even he felt safe now. It might be fleeting but it was worth anything he had to keep it.

And Ryker knew how to put up a fight.