His eyes widened slightly. “Do you want to die?”
I shook my head. “I want you. That’s what I want. I want you back.”
His brows knitted, and then I saw his gaze drop to my mouth. The predatory glint to his features changed, becoming intense in a wholly different way. Inherently, I recognized that look and the sudden tautness of need, of want. It was one of the first human things I’d seen from him since he returned. His lips parted, and I didn’t know if he was about to say something or not. I moved faster than I realized I could right then. Reaching up, I clasped his chilled cheeks as I stretched onto the tips of my toes. I pulled his head down to mine, and I pressed my lips to his.
I kissed him.
The feel of him was the same in some ways. His skin was smooth under my palms. The shape and form of his lips were the same. He still tasted of fresh, morning air. But that was where the similarity ended. He didn’t move. His lips were too cold. I wasn’t sure if he breathed as I tilted my head, praying and begging for some reaction that proved Zayne was still in there, that he hadn’t completely become this inhuman creature.
There was nothing.
Tears pricked at my eyes. I kissed him again and again, my cheeks becoming damp—
Then Zayne changed.
His mouth yielded under mine, softening and opening. He tilted his head, aligning his mouth with mine more fully, and I could’ve screamed hallelujah, but that would’ve been weird and counterproductive at the moment. That was the last thing I wanted to be. I felt the touch of his tongue, and that wasn’t cold. My body flushed. It wasn’t just me kissing him. He was kissing me back, and it didn’t remain soft or questioning. It deepened, becoming hungry and wild, consuming and potent. A wave of shivers pimpled my skin. A deep rumbling sound came from the back of his throat, and the flush became even hotter. The tips of his fingers touched my cheek, my hair. His hand flattened, his skin cool but warming against mine—
Zayne jerked his head away so suddenly I almost toppled over. In a daze, I opened my eyes and saw that he was standing several feet away, under one of the bright park lights. Even I could see that his chest was rising and falling as sharply as mine.
“You’re still in there,” I whispered.
His head twisted to the left and then to the right, stretching the tendons of his neck as his eyes closed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“That’s okay,” I said, wiping the tears from my face with shaking hands. “Because he does.”
“Who?” he asked hoarsely.
“Zayne.”
His eyes flew open. Those wings lifted, arcing high, and for a long moment, I thought I had it all wrong. He was going to use the grace burning through his wings against me, and that Throne was going to be real disappointed in me.
“I’m done playing with you,” he warned. “The next time I see you, I will kill you.”
And with that, he snapped those powerful wings down and lifted off. He rose so fast he was like a star ascending instead of falling. He shot into the night sky, rapidly becoming nothing more than memory.
Water sloshed as Dez climbed out of the fountain, grunting as he hit the ground. “Did you seriously just kiss him?”
“I did.” I didn’t take my eyes off the night sky. The darker shapes of the clouds that had lingered since yesterday’s rainstorm were clearing. Wet warmth trickled out from my nose. I reached up, wiping the blood away before it could hit the ground.
“I honestly don’t even know what to say about that.”
“He’s still in there.” I squinted and then closed my right eye, the one with the thicker cataracts.
There was a pause of silence. “You sure about that, Trinity? Because there was nothing about that thing that behaved like Zayne.”
I saw them. Tiny specks of light. I saw stars. “Yes. I’m sure.”
9
For the second night in a row, I limped back into the empty apartment in the dead of the night. Kicking off my shoes by the door, I dropped the key card on the counter and then headed straight for the shower. This time, there was only dirt and the pieces of grass that had somehow ended up in my hair circling the drain. No blood. I reckoned that was an improvement as I pulled on one of Zayne’s clean shirts. It made for a pretty decent sleep shirt, and at the current moment, I doubted he cared.
Gathering up the blanket and pillow from where I left them on the couch, I brought them back into the bedroom—into the one that was supposed to be ours. Using an aching hip to close the door, I turned to the bed. The soft white glow from the ceiling wasn’t nearly enough light, but I shuffled forward, squinting into the darkness—
My knee cracked off the frame of the bed. The sting of pain was deep and throbbing. “Crap.”
Breathing through the obnoxiously intense pain, I dropped the blanket onto the bed and tossed the pillow to the head. Then I climbed in and, after taking a deep breath, I looked up at the ceiling. The pang to my heart felt like a stab wound as I tracked the faint light from each star randomly scattered across the ceiling.
Back in the Potomac Highlands, I had stars on my ceiling. Some may find them incredibly gaudy, but it was so difficult for me to see the real ones. Half of the time when I thought I saw a star, I was actually seeing lights from a plane or a cell phone tower. One day, a day I could tell was rapidly approaching, I would look up to the sky and no longer be able to see something as simple and stunning as a sky blanketed with stars.
Zayne had known how important being able to see stars, even fake, glow in the darkness was to me. What he’d done by placing them on the ceiling, during a time that I’d been convinced that he hated me and so regretted the Protector bond, was one of the most beautiful things anyone could ever have done for me. That was the Zayne I knew was still inside the fallen angel.
I had hope.
Not the wishful thinking kind of hope, but the real deal. I knew it wasn’t too late. Zayne had endless opportunity to kill me. From the moment he arrived, right up until he took off like a rocket an hour or so ago, he could’ve done serious damage to me. And if he wanted me dead, taking out that Ghoul hadn’t helped his cause.
Then again, the whole “I should be the one who kills you” thing didn’t bring the warm and fuzzies, but maybe when he tossed Dez and I, it hadn’t been a coincidence that I ended up in a much softer area. Or that when he’d turned, he avoided knocking me out with those wings. It could’ve all been on an unconscious level, one he couldn’t understand in his present state.
And the man that he’d killed? The jury was still technically out on that. Before we left the park, Dez had found the man’s ID and had Gideon checking to see if he could dig up anything on the guy. If what Zayne had claimed was true, he hadn’t taken an innocent’s life. I could argue all day the semantics of whether any murder was justifiable, but it wasn’t like Wardens hadn’t taken out bad humans in the past who’d not only been assisting demons, but were actively committing horrendous deeds. So, No Regrets on that front for the time being.