Page 13 of Shadows and Stone

As Kang talks through the camera angles, Caylen leans in slightly. He’s tall, and certainly possesses the raw, rugged presence required for a beast lord. But, as Caylen speaks, my eyes drift past his shoulder to Ryker.

Standing near the edge of the set, Ryker is in a league of his own. He’s broader than Caylen, taller than Caylen, and so much sexier than Caylen. The natural taper of Ryker’s waist leads up to those intimidating wings, and every time his thick tail flicks lazily against the concrete floor, my heart skips a beat. He would definitely make a better Lord Rozz.

Not that Ryker would ever want to act, I remind myself. As if reading my mind, Ryker’s gaze locks onto mine, his cerulean eyes glowing. A sudden flood of heat hits me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from reacting as dirty images of us reenacting the script flash behind my eyes.

He’s a bodyguard, not an actor. But God, if he were...

If Ryker were in that sexy warrior costume, pinning me up against that archway, I wouldn't need to act at all. There would be nothing but raw passion between us.

"All right, people! Wardrobe check on Teagan, then we roll!" Director Kang’s voice booms, shattering my naughty daydream.

Caylen grins, slapping my shoulder. "Break a leg, Teagan. I gotta head toward my mark.”

I turn toward the wardrobe rack where the head stylist, and a frantic woman named Tory, is waiting with my lead costume. It’s a stunning piece, with a high-collared, crimson silk tunic and gold embroidery. The outfit has been fitted to tightly stretch across my chest and waist and designed to flare out into a layered skirt over dark leather trousers. The whole thing is supposed to make Prince Jin look untouchable, elegant, and dangerously striking.

I step behind the dressing screen with Tory and her assistant, slipping out of my casual clothes and letting them slide the tunic over my shoulders.

"Oh, it looks divine on you, Teagan," Tory chatters, buttoning the intricate fasteners down the front. "The crimson makes your purple hair pop in a way that’s going to make your fans go freaking wild."

She tugs down on the hem to smooth out the front, but I lose my balance. Suddenly, something rips. The sickening sound of material violently shearing apart echoes around me.

Cold air immediately hits my left side as the seam of the tunic exposes my skin. There’s a long tear from my armpit all the way down to the flared waist. Oh shit. The delicate silk frays at the edges, and the gold embroidery looks completely ruined.

Tory gasps, dropping her tape measure. Her assistant turns pale. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no!" Tory shrieks. "The fabric! Fuck, Kang is going to kill me!"

I look down at my side, my heart sinking into my stomach. "Can we safety pin it from the inside?"

"No! Today is a close-up shot!" Tory paces frantically, grabbing at her hair. "The camera is going to be right on your left profile as Caylen grabs your waist! Safety pins will pucker the silk, and a decent patch job will take three hours to restitch properly! We don't have three fucking hours. Monster gods! The studio is burning fifty grand an hour on this stage!"

Before I can even ask her if that’s true, Kangs voice calls out from behind the screen, sounding impatient. "What’s the delay over there, wardrobe? We’re burning light out here! Five minutes!"

"We're dead," Tory whimpers. She looks like she's about to burst into tears. "We don't have a backup tunic in crimson. It’s over."

I stare at the shredded material. The frayed threads hang uselessly. Then, a memory surges through my mind. A tiny sewing kit. A blur of large purple hands, and a needle moving with terrifying, inhuman speed.

I shake my head. "No, we aren't dead.” I push past the screen, stepping out onto the main floor, ripped tunic and all. The crew goes silent as they see the gaping hole in my costume.

Kang looks pissed. “What the fuck is going on?”

"Ryker!" I call out, my voice ringing clear across the soundstage.

Ryker instantly turns, his eyes locking onto mine. He rushes toward me, closing the distance in seconds. "Teagan. What happened?"

"Uh. We had a bit of an accident." I gesture to my exposed skin. "Wardrobe says it will take three hours to patch up. We don’t have hours. Can you fix it?"

Tory steps out from behind the screen, staring at Ryker like I’ve lost my damn mind. "Excuse me? He’s a gargoyle bodyguard! This is a designer piece and custom embroidery, not a pair of jeans! He can't just snap his fingers and fix it."

"Do you have a curved needle, matching thread, and fabric shears?" Ryker interrupts. He’s completely calm, his deep voice cutting through Tory’s panic with ease.

Tory blinks, clearly shocked. "I... yes. In my mobile trunk."

"Perfect. Get them. Now," Ryker commands.

Within seconds, Tory scrambles back with a tray of professional tailoring supplies. Ryker doesn't hesitate. He steps forward, his broad, claw-tipped fingers selecting a thin spool of thread and a specific curved needle with ease.

Ryker steps directly into my personal space. "Stand still, Teagan."

The size difference between us becomes instantly glaring. Ryker towers over me, his wings flaring slightly. Is he shielding me from prying eyes? His scent is sweet and intoxicating; some type of cologne mixed with vanilla. It invades my senses and reminds me of the night we met at the bonfire.