One of my earliest memories of Ryder took place when we were only five years old. We'd just had our first training session together and already, the incubus unsettled me. It was a feeling that told me that this boy would either be my best friend in the entire world or my most hated enemy, there was no in-between.

It's always been that way with Ryder, though. Everything is either one extreme or the other.

Anyway, we'd been sitting on the stone steps that lead to the front door of the facility in silence. Unable to hold my tongue any longer, I'd turned to the black haired boy and said, "I don't like you."

He hadn't even looked at me when he said back to me, "you don't have to."

It'd been such a strange thing for a boy so young to say, but then, it hadn't fazed me. "Why not?" I'd demanded, shoving my windblown curls from my face with chubby hands.

Ryder had turned to me then and I remember his blue eyes being such a vivid blue with the strangest determination in them that they'd burned themselves into my memory.

"Because," he'd said with certainty, "I'm going to make you change your mind."

Now that I look at him as we stand under a thickly canopied tree waiting for the rain to cease its downpour, I have the childish urge to tell the bastard that I don't like him once more. Instead, I glare at the back of his head with all the hate that I can muster. How can he stand there, so cool and confident after everything he's done to me? What joy does he get from destroying my happiness?

"As much as I love the feel of your eyes on me, darlin', it would be a shame if you bloodied your pretty little hand squeezing that branch to death," Ryder comments lazily, ringing out the jacket I'd thrown back at him once we'd found cover.

I look down, surprised to see my right hand is clutching a damp branch protruding from the tree I stand under so tightly that my knuckles are white. The dampness I feel on my palm tells me that the wood has pierced the skin. I release the branch, ignoring the now sharp pain as I clench my hand.

Ryder turns to me suddenly, his icy blue eyes zeroing in on my injured hand. A line creases between his eyebrows. "You're hurt," he states. The incubus removes the tie from around his neck and tosses it at me. I catch it, but just barely. "Wrap it with that to stop the bleeding."

He turns around again, as if the sight of me is nauseating. Nonetheless, I start wrapping my hand in his tie, unable to stop myself from looking at him all the while.

A lot has changed about Ryder while I've been away.

His hair has grown out, for one. The usual short, cropped hair has been traded for an inky black mane that reaches the nape of his neck. The midnight locks now look almost blue from the rain. My eyes follow the path down his back, the musculature of it now visible through his soaking wet shirt.

Ryder hadn't exactly been scrawny before I left but now . . . he's practically the size of a bear. Every inch of that tan, rippling body is lethal. Octavian and my parents have created the perfect weapon. Only, this time, it's not me.

So lost in thought was I, that I hadn't realized the toned back I'd been staring at had turned into a very muscular chest.

"It's not polite to stare, darlin'," his voice rumbles with the slightest hint of amusement. My eyes snap up to meet a pair of sly blue ones.

"I wasn't-" I start to retort, then I stop, forcing myself to calm down; to not take the bait he'd laid out. I let out a breath, wondering where the new nickname came from but let it go. "What are we doing?"

"We," he smirks slightly, "are waiting for the rain to stop."

Annoyed, I start to tell him off, but he holds up one of his large hands. "I'm taking you to my father," he tells me seriously, the arrogance disappearing from his expression.

My heart drops.

"No." The word slips from my lips before I can stop it.

Ryder begins to turn away from me again but I put a hand on his massive bicep. "Ryder, stop." Reluctantly, he turns back to me, a hard expression on his once familiar face. "I can't go back there, not like this. I'm out of practice -weak- and I won't be able to take anything they throw at me. And they will test me. You know that, Ryder."

The hulking man glares down at me. "I've been ordered to bring you back to them, Viridian. I will not disobey a direct order for you."

"I know," I say, beginning to panic now. I can't go back to that place. They'll destroy me.

I need a plan.

"Two weeks," I blurt.

Confused, Ryder looks at me with raised eyebrows. "What?"

"Give me two weeks to train. Two weeks to prepare myself and then you can take me back," I bargain, practically pleading with him to give in. He looks skeptical so I bite back my pride and add in, "please."

The incubus considers, frowning at me. His distrusting eyes stares straight into mine for a long while before he lets out an aggravated breath. "Fine," he finally concedes, "two weeks. Not a second more. And if you try to run, I will haul your ass kicking and screaming through my father's front door. Do you understand?"

His eyes narrow as I open my mouth to answer, daring me to lie to him.

That's the thing about Ryder. He may be one of the cruelest, deadliest, most-fearsome men to ever walk the earth, but he isn't a liar. He'd sooner cut out his own tongue before telling a lie.

I am nothing like Ryder.

I am a liar.

I lie to protect myself, and Ryder knows it. But that never stopped Ryder from expecting me to never lie to him. Tell a lie once, and all your truths become questionable. I want to know that I can trust you, Viridian, he use to say to me. The words seemed strange coming from a self-proclaimed murderer, but I never once questioned him.

By the way he's looking at me now, I know he expects me to tell the truth.

"I understand."

This, at least, is the truth, but Ryder is not satisfied.

"When your two weeks are up, you will come with me to my father without a fight?" he demands, his nose nearly touching mine now. His warm breath fans across my skin but I force myself not to blink.

I stare directly into his icy blue eyes and bite out a curt, "yes."

It is a lie. I have no intention of going back to Octavian and my parents. Nonetheless, Ryder nearly smiles and says a quiet, "good" before backing off just a little.

I relax slightly. He doesn't seem to have caught my lie. But what if he has? a soft voice asks from the back of my mind. This wouldn't be the first time he's let your lies slide. I frown slightly, reminded suddenly of that day so many years ago that Ryder let me escape. Could he still be protecting me after all these years? I mentally shake myself. Of course he isn't. Ryder doesn't know me anymore, let alone care for me enough to disobey his father's orders. This is, after all, the same man who'd destroyed my chance at love only a few hours ago.

And just like that, the anger is back.

"I will, of course, be training you myself," Ryder calls over his shoulder as he picks up his still-wet suit jacket. "We'll start tomorrow."

"Excuse me?"

He turns around, jacket still in hand, with an incredulous look. He raises an eyebrow at me and laughs. "Did you think you could get yourself up to your parents' standards in two weeks? Darlin', that pretty little face of yours won't make any of them go even the slightest bit easier on you."

"I'll be fine," I snap, face hot. "I can handle it."

He cocks an eyebrow at me, seeming to find my bold words amusing. "Oh, really?" The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. "Prove it."

My eyebrows draw together in confusion. "Prove wha-"

The words haven't made it past my lips before he's on me.

His fist flies towards my unguarded face and I dodge it, but just barely. The unexpected attack sends me off balance and my responding punch is far off. I regain my footing, planting my feet in the dirt. My hands push the beast of a man away from me, needing a moment to prepare myself. The incubus, however, isn't fazed in the slightest.

Before I can form a conscious thought, my hands are held tightly behind my back with one of his and I'm pinned roughly against a thick tree. My chest heaves against the rough bark but Ryder's breaths are even against the back of my neck. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as his warm breath caresses my skin. His hard body is pressed against my back, making it impossible to move an inch, let alone escape him.

His chest rises and fall softly against my body as his mouth brushes my ear. "Like I said, we'll start tomorrow."

He releases me and slings his jacket over his broad shoulder. The rain has stopped and he goes to walk out from under the tall tree's shelter, then pauses.

"By the way," he calls over his shoulder, icy blue eyes twinkling wickedly, "happy birthday, Viridian."