“Drink, baby.” Zaq’s voice, a low croon in my ear, pulled me from somewhere black and nameless.
My face was pressed to his neck. His throat was covered with stubble. I could smell his dark Zaq-fragrance, and I wanted to taste him. So bad.
Hunger gnawed at my insides like a ferocious little animal. My fangs tingled with the need to sink into his neck, to reach the blood pumping in the artery beneath my lips.
I licked the hollow of his throat. My mouth watered.
His muscles moved beneath my lips. “That’s it, sweetheart. Drink. You need to feed.”
Yes…
Without opening my eyes, I slid my hand around the back of his neck. He was strong, masculine, his skin rougher than mine even here. His upper body was bare, as was mine except for an exercise bra. His chest hair pricked my nipples through the stretchy material.
My fangs lengthened. I dragged the tips over his carotid.
His arms tightened, drawing me closer.
A stabbing pain in my abdomen made me groan and suck in a breath. My left side burned but I couldn’t remember why, and I didn’t care. I just wanted to feed.
“Easy, easy.” Zaq arranged me so the burning lessened, and I returned my attention to his throat, pressing kisses to the stubbled skin.
His cock pushed against my hip, hot and insistent.
“Drink, baby.” He stroked the back of my head. “It’s okay.”
I opened my mouth to obey—and froze, flashing back to the last time I’d drunk from anyone. It had been my mom, and I’d been five-and-a-half-years old. Up until then, she’d let me feed from her because it was clear I wouldn’t thrive without it.
But that last time, I’d glimpsed her expression, mouth turned down, nose scrunched like she smelled something bad.
Distaste, aversion—I didn’t know what to call it then, but I felt it in my belly. Not for me—Mom had showered me with love—but for what I was.
A monster.
Like the men Mom had to hide me from.
A sick shame gripped me. I pushed away from her. “I’m not hungry.”
She rolled her lips into her mouth. “You sure?”
I jerked my chin in a nod. “Yeah.”
Her sigh of relief told me everything I needed to know. She kissed the top of my head. “How about I make you a hamburger?”
I’d said yes, and the next time I needed to feed, she’d somehow located a supply of blood-wine.
Now I pressed weakly against Zaq’s chest, but he wouldn’t let me go. “Please, Ridley. You’re hurt. You need to feed.”
I retracted my fangs and raised my gaze to his face. His expression was the opposite of distaste or aversion. His brow was furrowed, his striking green eyes pleading.
The link between us was stronger than ever. His concern swamped me, like a huge wave slapping down over my head and knocking me off my feet. The air left my lungs in a whoosh.
I was still reeling when Zaq brushed my hair back from my face. A tender gesture that made my heart somersault in my chest.
“You need fresh blood,” he said. “You won’t heal without it. You were stabbed with a silver blade. I cleaned out the wound as soon as we got here, but some of the poison had already entered your bloodstream. You’ve been out for almost twenty-four hours with a high fever. You’re sick, dehydrated.”
I gulped and looked around. We were in a strange room, one I vaguely recalled seeing before.
“We’re safe?” And I was pretty sure I’d asked that before, too.
“For now. This is my loft.” Before I could object, he said, “Don’t worry, it’s okay. My staff knows I’m here, but no one knows about you except my head of security. But we can’t hide here for very long. My father’s bound to check the loft sooner or later. We need to get back out there, find out what the hell is going on, and I can’t do it without you. I need my badass.”
His lips lifted in a small, crooked grin. A grin I felt in my whole body.
“Damn you,” I muttered. He was manipulating me—I felt it through that odd, powerful link—and it was working.
“So you’ll drink.”
I blew out a breath. “Yes. Thank you.”
Now that I was fully conscious, I knew he was right. I was in bad shape—weak and feverish, my body working overtime to counter the silver’s toxic effect. I’d be useless in the event of another attack.
And there would be another attack. Too many people wanted us dead.
Karoly Kral. Crow. Maybe even Spider.
Zaq guided my mouth back to his throat. I extended my fangs and sank them into his skin.
A dark excitement surged up in me. Yes. This. Feed.
Zaq hissed like he was in pain.
I recoiled, horrified. Monster.
But not him, me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I—”
“No, no.” His fingers clamped around the base of my skull, bringing me back. “I like it. It feels good.”
Unable to help myself, I licked the blood from his throat. “My mom…my promise.”
He caressed my nape. “Look, I know she meant well. But she was wrong. You’re not a human, you’re a dhampir. And drinking blood is necessary for us. Making you promise not to feed is like forcing a tiger to be a vegetarian. You need this, cher.”
Tears leaked from my eyes. I pulled away from him, swiped at them with my hand.
“It’s the only thing she wanted from me.” My voice wobbled.
“I know.” He laid his head on the pillow and looked into my eyes. “But she loved you. If she were here in the room right now, do you honestly believe she’d hold you to that promise?”
I retracted my fangs. “She didn’t actually ask me to promise I wouldn’t drink blood,” I admitted. “It was my idea, because I knew how she felt.”
“Mm.” He traced my mouth with his index finger. “It’s up to you, sweetheart. But if you’re worried about me, don’t be. I liked it. Especially when it’s you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah—it’s a major turn-on. You must’ve heard that before.”
My gaze returned to his throat. Zaq fell silent. He’d made his point, now he was leaving the decision up to me.
I moved back into his arms. They closed around me, lean and hard.
Nuzzling his throat, I extended my fangs, scraping them lightly over his skin. My mouth watered and a shiver of anticipation went up my spine.
“Yes,” he encouraged. “Go ahead.” He cupped the back of my head and held me to his throat.
With a slow inhale, I sank my teeth into him, taking a tentative sip.
Energy filled me, along with…wonder. It was so much better than blood-wine. Rich, a little salty. Luscious.
I sucked harder.
Zaq’s throat muscles worked. “That is so fucking hot,” he said thickly.
I moaned agreement against his skin. Lord help me, it was hot. Heat pooled in my lower abdomen and my panties dampened.
I took a half-dozen deep, greedy sucks. With each mouthful, I felt stronger, more energetic.
A fine sweat broke out on my body, bringing a lovely coolness. The throbbing in my side eased. I retracted my fangs, not wanting to take too much, since Zaq had only just recovered himself, and licked the marks I’d left behind. They closed up within seconds, but I kept licking.
He tasted so good, so male. So right.
I twined a leg around his and pressed my mound against his thigh.
He swore, rough and growly, his throat vibrating beneath my mouth. “Damn it, Ridley. Stop it already.”
“Why?” My licks turned to kisses. I was drunk on him. I couldn’t get enough.
“You’re sick—you have a fever.”
I cupped his cock through his boxers. He was hard and ready. “I feel better.”
He removed my hand. “Let me take care of you instead.”
“I’m fine.” I pouted—and who was this woman, pouting? Ridley Crawford didn’t pout and tease. But with Zaq, it felt like foreplay.
His gaze went to my pushed-out lower lip. He gave a hard swallow, then shook his head. “No. You’re not. You don’t know how sick you were.”
He gathered me into his arms and carried me into a ginormous bathroom, all pale blue glass and black-and-white subway tiles. One side was a long, walk-in shower with multiple showerheads.
He turned into a cozy alcove where a porcelain slipper tub nestled, and put me down on a thick blue rug. “How about a bath?”
I nodded and kissed the side of his jaw. “I’d love it. But first, the toilet?”
“Toilet’s in there.” He pointed at a sliding door tucked next to the shower. “You need any help?”
“I’m good.”
“Okay.” He turned me toward the sliding door and smacked me on the ass, a casually possessive slap that made my inner thighs clench. “I’ll draw you a bath.”
“Make it…hot,” I said with a sassy over-the-shoulder grin.
He just chuckled.
When I returned, soft music played on hidden speakers, and the tub was half-full. Zaq removed the gauze dressing on my side and discarded it, then had me lift my arm so he could examine my wound.
He gave a satisfied nod. “It’s healing nicely. You should be okay to go in the water.”
I examined it in the large mirror that ran the length of the bathroom counter. The hole in my side had closed up, the scab a healthy-looking dark red.
“Nice. You do good work, Kral.”
“Thanks.” He dropped a kiss on my nose. “Let’s get you undressed.”
He removed his leather bracelets and set them on the counter. I lifted my arms and he eased off my bra. His gaze fixed on my breasts like he couldn’t look away, which made my nipples bead.
He groaned. “Keep teasing me, and you’re going to get fucked so hard.”
Arousal lanced from my breasts to my core. I slanted a look at him from beneath my lashes, testing my newfound flirting powers, my mouth stretching in a pleased smile. To hear Zaq, you’d think I was a freaking femme fatale, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Still, I couldn’t help being happy—no, thrilled—that he thought so.
His eyes darkened. “What?” He ran his thumb over my lower lip.
“You’re looking at me like you want to eat me up.”
“Because I do.”
A warm, liquid heat twisted through my belly. My breasts felt heavy, sensitive.
I put my hands on his chest, letting my nipples brush against his curly dark hair, and kissed him on the lips. “Hold that thought.”
“Oh, I will.” His big hands palmed my ass, squeezed. “Now get in the tub.”
I stripped off my boyshorts and Zaq helped me into the slipper tub. It was long enough for me to stretch out in with a foot or two left over. Behind it, nooks set at different levels in the tiled walls displayed fat white candles and a few perfect shells.
I eased back into the steaming water with a contented sigh.
“Too hot?” he asked.
“No. It’s perfect. It feels so good.” I sank lower in the water.
“Good.” He turned off the faucet, soaped up a cloth and started washing me—my breasts, my throat, my arms.
He brushed his fingers over a deep bruise on my right triceps. “Whoever sent George after us is going to pay for every damn bruise,” he promised in a harsh, syndicate-prince voice. “I thought Spider had more control over his people.”
I moved a shoulder. “I’ve had worse.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Like fuck you have. How many times have you almost died, anyway?”
“I don’t know—five times, maybe six? You can’t think about it. If you do, you’re constantly afraid. And when you’re afraid, you make mistakes. You’re too cautious—or worse, too bold. The blood-suckers can’t sense my emotions, but they’re not stupid. They can read body language, same as a human—maybe even better because they’ve been around for so many lifetimes. They can tell when you’re afraid.”
His brows lowered. “You shouldn’t have to live your life like that.”
“I went into SI with my eyes wide open. I knew what I was getting into.”
“You must’ve been a teenager when you started training.”
“Well, yeah,” I said, not sure where he was going with this. “We all are.”
“That’s too damn young to give your life to a cause.”
I stared up at him. He seemed angry—but not at me, for me—and I wasn’t sure why. “What else would I do?”
“I don’t know. Move in with me. Go to college. Open a business. You decide—you’ve got a long life ahead of you. But not if you stay in Slayers, Inc.”
My heart thumped. Move in with Zaq?
I gave a slight shake of my head. “I took a vow.”
“So? You can leave, can’t you? It’s not like you signed your damn life over to them.”
“Of course I can leave. It’s not easy, but I could. But I believe in what I do. I don’t want to lea—” I halted, biting my lower lip. Because suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I didn’t want to leave. “Of course I can leave,” I repeated.
Zaq grunted and soaped up the cloth again. “Sit up. I’ll wash your back.”
I complied, and he moved the cloth in slow circles over my shoulders, my spine, my lower back. I made a low sound of pleasure. “That feels so good.”
He dropped a kiss on the place between my shoulders. “Want me to wash your hair?”
“Yes, please.”
“I like you like this.” His voice held amusement. “All sweet and submissive.”
I turned my head to frown at him, but I felt too relaxed and my mouth tugged to the side into a droll smile.
He chuckled and set the washcloth on the edge of the tub. “Relax and enjoy it.” He guided my head down to my chest and squirted shampoo from a wall dispenser into his hand.
I bent my legs, wrapping my arms loosely around them, and rested my head on my knees. Giving into the relaxed, good feeling.
Zaq massaged the lemon-scented shampoo into my hair and scalp, then used a shower attachment to rinse it out. “Conditioner?”
When I nodded, he got a palmful of conditioner from another dispenser and worked it in. “You’re not bad at this, Kral,” I said against my knees.
“Thanks.”
“You must do it a lot.” And yeah, I was fishing, but I needed to know.
He shocked me by saying, “Not really. I’ve never had a woman in my loft before. Well, except for my mom or a member of my security team. But I’ve had a few girlfriends, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“And you like to take care of them.”
He rinsed the conditioner from my hair, then helped me lie back in the water again, my head against the tub. He rubbed his lips over mine. “I like to take care of you.”
Moving onto my right hand, he cleaned each finger, then kissed my knuckles and picked the left hand.
Gradually, memory returned. Or to be precise, I allowed myself to think. The last I remembered, Zaq had been cold, withdrawn. “You’re not pissed off at me anymore.”
“I was never pissed off at you.” The washcloth moved down my body to my legs. He cleaned them with the same thoroughness he had my arms and hands, ending with my toes.
“Not true.” I straightened my spine. “Even in the underworld, you acted like I was the enemy.”
And it had hurt, even though I’d told myself it didn’t matter. That I was the cool, pragmatic Reaper, the badass who never needed anyone.
Zaq draped the washcloth over the faucet and took my face in his hands. “I was an asshole. And you’re right, I was pissed off, but at the situation more than you. I’d decided I couldn’t do it anymore, the whole enemies-sex thing with you. It was messing with my head, making me think you were on my side. When you weren’t. But now—” His mouth pulled sideways and he released me.
I grabbed his wrists. “What?”
“You put your life on the line for me. D’you remember telling me? You said you lied to your alpha, that you’re a rogue now.”
“Yeah.” My chest squeezed. Panic slithered through me. “But if I’m not a slayer, what am I?”
Nothing, that’s what. My skills weren’t easily transferable to the human world.
“Hey.” Taking hold of my wet shoulders, he touched his forehead to mine. “We’ll figure this out. No one is going to hurt you. I’m sorry I was an ass.”
His expression was so tender, his tone so sincere.
Jesus, this man. He was going to wreck me if I wasn’t careful.
I swallowed over the obstruction in my throat. “It’s all right. I didn’t blame you.”
“I’m sorry anyway.”
My gaze went to the scars on his wrists. Scars I’d helped to put there. Guilt twisted and pulled at my stomach, spreading to my chest.
I turned my head and kissed the scar on his left wrist. “I’m the one who should apologize. I should’ve never helped kidnap you. I should’ve told my alpha no.”
He caressed my shoulders. A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “I’ll admit I did want to make you hurt, there for a while. But if you hadn’t taken the job, SI would’ve assigned it to someone else.”
“Still doesn’t make it right.”
“Ridley.” Warm lips touched my temple. “We’ve all done things we wish we could go back and do over. And in the end, you saved me, didn’t you? You brought me food and blood-wine, and you got me out of that hellhole.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t deserve his understanding, and I definitely didn’t deserve his forgiveness.
“I had doubts,” I admitted lowly. “Almost from the beginning. But I ignored them, told myself you were too perfect to be true, that it had to be a smokescreen. No syndicate prince could be such a do-gooder.”
“And I’m glad you did. Because you know what? If you’d told them no, we might never have met—and that would’ve been a goddamn shame.”
I opened my eyes. The lump in my throat grew three times larger, like the Grinch’s heart. “I—”
“How about if we start over?” His hands moved down my arms. “I’m Zaq Kral, and I think you’re the most beautiful woman I ever met.”
I couldn’t help huffing a laugh. “So the first time we meet, I’m naked in your bathtub?”
“Yeah.” He looked down at himself, grinned. “Come to think of it, I’m overdressed.”
He rose to his feet and pulled off his boxer-briefs. His cock sprang free from a nest of curly black hair. It was darkly flushed, the veins prominent.
I licked my lips and it gave a happy little jerk.
He held out a hand. “What’s your name, beautiful, and how did I get so lucky to find you naked in my bathtub?”
I took his hand. “Ridley.” I hesitated, and added, “Crawford.”
His eyes gleamed. A slow smile curled his mouth.
“Ridley Crawford. Nice to meet you.” He drew me up. The water streamed off my body into the tub. He took a long look. A look so hot I wouldn’t have been surprised if steam rose from my skin. “Very, very nice.”
He snagged a towel from a warming rack, wrapped me in it and lifted me out of the water, setting me on my feet on the thick, fluffy rug.
“Likewise.” I twined my hands around his neck and raised on the balls of my feet to kiss him. For now, I set aside my guilt and the fact that I didn’t deserve Zaq’s forgiveness.
He wanted this, and so did I. So bad.
Despite everything, these days in New York with Zaq had been some of the happiest of my life. And like a greedy child, I wanted more, even if it hurt me in the end.
He opened his mouth and I slid my tongue inside, running it over his teeth, playing with his tongue. The towel slipped down between our bodies. He twitched it away and moved his hands to my breasts, rolling the nipples between his thumbs and first fingers.
Pleasure moved through me in a slow, sensuous stream. His erection was a spike of heat against my abdomen. He sucked my tongue deeper and my knees melted. I moaned and pressed against him.
We kissed and kissed and kissed. Exploring each other’s mouths, caressing each other’s bodies. One kiss flowed into another and another in a string of loveliness.
I’d never spent so long simply kissing. I hadn’t wanted to with other men. But with Zaq, this—kissing him, feeling his body warm and hard against mine—was so perfect. Necessary, even.
I’m not sure who lifted their head first, but even then, our lips clung to each other.
We inhaled in unison, a rough, needy sound.
Zaq slipped his fingers around my nape and moved his other hand to my ass, pulling me up against him. His mouth roamed over my face, kissing my eyelids, my nose, my lips.
“You want this?” He touched his lips to the tender hollow beneath my ear. “It’s not too soon?”
A broken laugh scraped from my throat. “Stop now and I might have to hurt you.”
He chuckled. “My badass.” He made it sound like a compliment. “My beautiful, sexy badass.” He bent his knees, and then I was in his arms and he was striding with me into the bedroom.
He laid me on the bed and followed me down, crouching over me like a big cat. He started at my throat, placing a ribbon of kisses from one side to the other, then continued down, biting and sucking my left breast, tracing the nipple with his tongue.
Time stretched like warm, sweet taffy. I drifted in a hazy, dreamlike state, alone in the world except for the sexy angel who loved me with his hot mouth and strong hands.
He moved his head to my other breast. I combed my fingers through the springy hair on the back of his skull and urged him closer. He nipped the beaded tip, shooting a thrill straight to my core.
I let out an “Ah,” and arched my back, trying to get closer to him. He blew on the sensitized skin, then nibbled his way down my body.
When he reached my thighs, I bent my knees. He pushed them further apart and nuzzled my wet lips. The salty scent of my own arousal filled my nostrils.
He licked and kissed me, slow and perfect…now touching my clit, now swirling his tongue around it.
Tension gathered in my lower abdomen. “Zaq.” I lifted my hips, wordlessly asking for more.
He obligingly sucked my clit like it was a piece of candy. Then he lifted his head and met my eyes. “I’m going to do this slow. You may as well lie back and enjoy it.
I blinked a couple of times. “But—”
He scraped his teeth over the soft skin of my thigh. “Trust me, cher. You’ll like this.”
“Hmm.” I had a feeling I would like it, very much. But part of the fun was pushing back at him. “Don’t I get a say?”
His smile was dark and very male. “Not if you want me to fuck you.” A soft, I’m-in-charge-now statement that made my mouth drop open—and my sex clench.
He didn’t give me time to process that, simply dove back in, teasing me with his tongue and fingers until my legs trembled and I was producing small, needy whimpers.
“More, more, more…” I twisted beneath him, begging him to finish it, and even then he drew it out for a few more endless minutes.
And then—at last—he sucked my clit into his mouth. Light and heat shot up my spine and exploded in my head. Even my fingers and toes tingled.
Zaq slid two fingers inside me. “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”
My back arched. My sex constricted around his fingers. The sensations went on and on—and yet ended too soon. When I came back to myself, I let out a sigh.
Zaq gave me one last lick and kissed the inside of my thigh. “Beautiful.”
He took a condom from a drawer in the nightstand and came onto his knees to open it. I rolled over to watch.
Christ, he was gorgeous: all lean, compact power. Hard shoulders, tapered waist, cut muscles. Soft hair covered his chest and thighs.
While he rolled on the protection, I stroked him—his waist, his hips, around his balls. His breath hitched, and the corner of my mouth edged up.
“You’re not the only one who gets to tease.”
“Yeah?” He took my hands and crawled over top of me, pinning my hands on either side of my head. “Tonight, I am,” he growled against my neck.
He released one of my hands and reached down to bring his tip to my entrance, then brought his hand back to mine. I interlaced my fingers in his.
He pushed into me, just an inch or so. I moaned, the pressure against my already-sensitized flesh almost too much. Pleasure and pain spiked through me, a sharp, sweet agony.
He pushed deeper, slow and unstoppable. The pleasure increased. I wrapped my legs around his hips and tightened my inner muscles around him.
His dark lashes drifted down over his cheeks. “Yeah,” he said in rough tones. “Do it again.”
I squeezed him again, and he began to move, gliding in and out, in and out, a little harder each time.
He rested his cheek against mine. His musky aroma filled my head.
I nuzzled his ear, breathing him in. Nothing and no one would ever smell as good as Zaq.
He released my hands and cupped my face. “Gods, I want you,” he muttered against my mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“I want you too.” I stroked his back. His skin was slick with effort, the muscles rock-hard. “So bad.”
He angled his thrusts so he could stroke my clit with his cock.
“Yes.” I moved my hands to his muscular ass and squeezed. “Like that.”
But it wasn’t quite enough, and he slowed further, then pulled out all together. “Turn over.”
I rolled onto my front and got onto my hands and knees.
He came back into me—and stilled. “You sure you’re okay? Nothing hurts?”
“I’m fine.” I wiggled my ass, enjoying how he inhaled sharply. “Really.” Just a slight twinge in my side, but that was to be expected.
“Good. Because I want to fuck you hard.”
I’d always had a thing for dirty talk. A hot lick of lust went over my skin. I jerked my head in assent.
He scraped his teeth over my nape. “Say it. Tell me you want it hard.” A low voice in my ear.
“Yes.” I swallowed, then added a “Please,” because he seemed to like that.
He made a sound deep in his throat, part growl, part groan, and thrust slowly in and out. “You feel so damn good.”
He stroked in a few more times, then scraped his teeth over my nape. I jolted and arched my back.
“Fuck me, Ridley.”
I willingly pressed back against him, moving myself over and around his cock. He bent over me and slid his hand between my legs, stroking me and murmuring dirty, sexy things against my shoulder until I gave a small scream and broke again.
He straightened up. He gripped my hips, keeping me where he wanted me, and pumped into me, hard and fast, his groin smacking against my ass.
I whimpered into the pillow and pushed back against him. Pleasure rolled through me, wave after wave. Overwhelming. Perfect.
And when I climaxed a third time it felt like I’d exploded into a thousand flaming pieces.
Zaq gave a last firm thrust, then groaned and stilled, his dick jerking inside me.
After, he hung over my back, both of us breathing hard. Dropping a kiss on the sensitive spot between my shoulders, he rolled onto his back and reached out a long arm to pull me closer.
“Mm.” I nestled my head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. Warm and comfortable and at peace for the first time in forever.
He nuzzled my temple. “How about a burger?”
My stomach growled, and he chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
While I was flat on my back, healing, someone had washed my pants. Zaq got them for me along with my phone, wallet and a ribbed white tank, saying, “I had to throw out your shirt.”
I nodded and washed my bra and boyshorts in the bathroom sink. Zaq ran them through the dryer while I dried my hair and brushed my teeth.
By then my underwear was ready, so I got dressed and put my phone in my pocket without turning it on. The wallet I left in Zaq’s bedroom for now.
The last thing I did was reach for my blades, but I’d lost them in the underworld. I made a mental note to borrow some from Zaq.
As an undercover slayer, I’d seen a lot of rich vampires’ lairs over the years, but Zaq’s loft felt like a home in a way none of those lavish, expensively furnished lairs had. Yeah, it clearly belonged to a rich man—it had to be at least two thousand square feet with high ceilings, wood beams and exposed brick walls. The kitchen had gleaming graphite counters, pale orange cabinets and top-of-the-line appliances.
Still, the loft felt lived in. The walls that weren’t brick were painted a tranquil sea green. The living room was furnished in buttery-soft, mid-century leather chairs and couches, and the coffee table held a thriller by Harlan Coben and a stack of well-thumbed travel magazines. In one corner stood a pool table with the balls racked up and ready to play, and two of the leather chairs were pulled up to the gas fireplace in the living room’s center. Scattered here and there were family photos and an eclectic mix of First Nations pottery and statuettes.
Zaq stood at the kitchen stove with his back to me, his only clothing a pair of gray jogging pants cut off at the knees. He flashed a smile at me over his shoulder. “Burgers will be ready in five minutes.”
“Can I help?”
“Nah, I got it. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.” I drifted around the living room, looking at things without touching them.
What would it be like to live somewhere like this? Somewhere that felt like a home, not just the place where I stowed my stuff?
A home where the man cooking in the kitchen belonged to me?
My eyes turned toward Zaq like he was a man-sized magnet. Savoring the smooth, efficient way his muscles worked as he flipped the burgers and added slices of cheese on top. The cut-offs hung low on his hips, showcasing a pair of deep dimples on his lower back, dimples I wanted to lick and fondle.
My chest hollowed out with longing.
Move in with me. Go to college.
He sent me another smile like he felt my eyes on him. “Almost done.”
A sharp pang constricted my lungs. “It smells good,” I managed to say.
Zaq made it sound so easy, but it wasn’t. I’d taken a vow when I’d joined Slayers, Inc. A vow I’d meant to the depths of my soul. The idea of breaking that vow made me my heart jitter and thump against my ribcage.
But you’ve already broken the vow. You’re a rogue.
Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod.
That’s when I realized how completely I’d burned my bridges. They’d even put out a hit on me.
Emotions welled up in me. My throat closed.
Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod.
I took a couple of calming breaths, tamping the emotions down. I couldn’t deal with this right now. Later, when Zaq was safe, I could consider how thoroughly I’d blown up my life. That is, if I’d somehow managed to evade SI’s long arm.
But not now.
I took a few more deep breaths and looked around, focusing on my surroundings in order to ground myself.
I stood in front of the fireplace. Scattered along its thick wood mantelpiece were a mismatched set of framed photos. I picked up the first, my mouth twitching at Zaq and his brothers standing with their arms around each other, mugging for the camera. Zaq must’ve been about ten, which made Gabriel twelve and Rafe eight. The three of them were so freaking cute, like half-grown puppies.
I put it down to examine the photo of Zaq and his mom at some fancy event. He was sleek and sexy in a tux and she wore a long red dress, their dark heads inclined toward each other as they grinned at the camera. I’d seen photos of Rosemarie Kral, of course. I’d even remarked that Zaq took after her side of the family. This photo made it obvious—he was clearly the male version of Rosemarie down to the tiny smile lines at the corners of their mouth.
I flashed to Zaq calling for his mom back at Père Lachaise when he’d almost die and swallowed a spasm of guilt. Had I really become so single-minded that I’d ignored the fact that Zaq and his brothers had a mother, too? A mom they clearly adored, if Zaq was anything to go by.
The third photo made me do a double take. A younger Zaq—he couldn’t have been more than twenty-one—stood with his arm curved protectively around a tiny, stooped nun with a shaved head and dark red habit, her lined face wreathed in smiles.
Zaq reached around me to pick the photo up. “She’s the toughest human I know. And the kindest.” His tone was admiring and full of affection.
I turned my head so I could see his face. “A Buddhist nun?” I don’t know why I was surprised; by now, I should be used to this man surprising me. But I was.
“I met her on my first trip to Tibet.” His mouth curved in an almost bashful smile. “She said the world needed more people like me. Told me to keep up the good work. That it didn’t matter if they thought I wasn’t for real, as long as I knew the truth.”
I winced. I’d been one of the people who’d believed Zaq couldn’t be for real.
“She was right,” I said.
He put the photo back on the mantel. He was right behind me, his breath warm on my nape. A prickle of awareness slid over my neck and shoulders, followed by another pang of longing.
Move in with me.
My mouth twisted. The idea of us together was impossible. Hell, laughable.
And I knew it even if Zaq didn’t.
He rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “Time to eat, cher.”