Emerald eyes so dark they’re almost frighteningly glare down at me. His dark brown hair is trimmed shorter on the sides, and the longer pieces on top are unkempt, giving it that messy, “I just rolled out of bed” look. He’s got a straight nose, and there’s a tic in his chiseled, smooth jaw. He’s dressed in dark denim jeans that hug his thighs, a black T-shirt shows off his broad shoulders and muscular arms, and tennis shoes. Ryat Archer stands there looking every bit pissed off as he does every second of every day.
