Greg… Zia’s Apartment

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Greg waited for Zia’s response. Silence deafened the inside cab of the SUV. When she didn’t speak, he couldn’t help but look over. The smile she launched was powerful enough to make his cock twitch with want. It was his heart that overrode that sensation.

The smile was void of sexual innuendo, pure, and essentially her. At that moment, Zia was free and happy. Fleeting as it might be, Greg saw her truest self-smiling with liberation and openness that was rare for most. Not constructed to do anything but reflect her reaction to him, this smile was the evidence of who she could be and what she could have as a fully realized Siren.

When loosed from the confines of whatever constrained her, Zia would be a powerful, thoughtful, and amazing person. When they mated—he had to keep that hope foremost—he’d make it easy for her to unleash that smile all the time.

Then the reality of predictable irrationality of human nature rode him hard. Amending his thoughts about their future he made room for a consolation. If nothing else ever transpired between them, he made it his vow that Zia would know this peace and stability in her life as the norm.

Turning onto the narrow, neglected street, he saw kids playing in the street. The passageway poured into a worn asphalt parking lot of a set of older apartment buildings. The SUV bobbled and bounced along the untended pavement.

The timing was right for the fanfare of kids who littered their path. It was after school in the afternoon on an early spring day. Kids would take advantage of fair weather like this. It was good she was willing to come here. Greg could only imagine how hard it must be to come back after everything that went down. At least the sun was out, and kids were playing. That had to be a good sign, right?

Another glance over at her dampened his hopes. In a flash, Zia’s face became a dull facsimile of the supernova smile she’d revealed. In its place, her usual public persona smile had wriggled itself back in. The feature clung firm, occupying its share of her facial real estate.

Without him saying a word she said, “I know. It’s on the lower income side of the community, but I get a kick out of using the BeltLine as a point of reference to where I live. Makes folks get an image of a quaint little condominium nestled within the cutest of neighborhoods.” She looked around at the muted, dingy colors of the neighborhood. “This was what I could afford when I decided to leave home. I didn’t want to use any of my parent's money. I had to do this on my own or I would have never been able to leave.” Her voice trailed off for a moment. He waited, giving her silent encouragement to trust him enough to share. She spoke again. “You know, I didn’t want to feel obligated to my parents. My mom wanted me to stay at home. The only move she’d be happy with was me going from her home to my new husband’s, a husband of her choosing.”

Greg tamped down the growl that rumbled deep and low within. He never wanted to hear about Zia with a weak human man masquerading as her husband. Her power was too intense for a mere human to endure or support.

Instead of voicing his displeasure, Greg restrained his beast side to speak with Gryphon wisdom.

“Only the short-sighted see a building’s facade. From what I can see, this neighborhood has been good to you and the growth you sought.”

She offered a shy smile. Rare in its appearance, but exquisite in its execution, Greg allowed the moment to saturate him. Zia was indeed his mate. Only his mate could pierce the reinforced armament he’d constructed to contain his base nature. Her presence was the balm of healing he thirsted for and needed.

Zia turned to look out her side window. Waving a hand at the kids who’d refused to move out of the approaching vehicle’s path, her grunt punctuated the sharp wit of her sarcasm.

“And, what about these lovely future leaders of the community. Aren’t they the best? The little miscreants!” He heard the love lacing that last part. She must know the group of kids well. As if confirming his assumption, Zia rolled her window down. Greg tried not to laugh when she screamed out the window, “Hey hard heads. How many times do I have to tell y’all to move out of the street when you see cars coming?”

“Yes ma’am,” the group of young boys with a few girls peering from the sidewalk said.

One of them recognized her. “It’s Miss Zia. Hey Miss Zia! We missed you!”

The car in park, the swarm of young bodies, beat Greg to the passenger side to open it. Zia got out with the kids crowding in. “Hey y’all. Have you been better than usual since I’ve been gone?” Her rapport with the group was evident.

One of the boys, obviously the leader, spoke up. “Nah, you know that ain’t gonna happen.” He leaned in cupping his hands and pressing against the dark tinted window to look into the back of the SUV. Greg got a whiff of the young man and knew the secret he kept. Primal animal instinct rose within.

Mine. Screamed out of his being to cast an invisible signal of that fact.

The little shit stiffened, looked at him and resumed trying to see into the tinted car.

Greg wanted to tell him to get his hands off the windows but decided to let this play out. “Hey, Miss Z, where’s the food? You don’t got no food for us like you usually do?”

Zia walked over to the boy who was only a few inches shorter and ruffled his blond-tipped locked hair. The coils stood up on his head like a lot of other urban youth Greg had seen both locally and on social media. “Not this time.” Looking past the group to Greg, she added, “I don’t have my shop anymore.”

“Nah man, that ain’t gonna work for us. Miss Z, you the reason we been out here every day. We’ve been looking out for you, know what I’m saying?” The young man wasn’t shy about letting Zia know he missed her, or more likely the treats she’d bring home from her bakery. “Where you been, yo? It’s been like weeks, man. Your truck still here. We watch out, making sure don’t nobody mess with it.” He scratched his head through the thick mop of coarse locks that clumped together like large noodles.

The boy wanted Zia to assuage his fear of her leaving again. This was plain and almost painful to watch. She clasped the young man around the neck and brought him in for a hug. Greg watched as the young pup almost orgasmed in delight as Zia rubbed his upper back in a motherly gesture.

She’d touched him deeply in their interactions.

Straightening his expression in a flash, the boy said, “Glad you back. You don’t know how many times we had to make sure them dudes over by the projects didn’t strip your ride. Miss Z, you need to crank her up to make sure she still all good too.”

“I will and thank you all. Good looking out.”

“But true that. Where you been?” he asked again, need to know weighing down his words. The young man had been very concerned.

She cast another look Greg’s way, pleas in her expressive eyes. He folded his arms. This wasn’t the time for him to interfere. One thing he knew about children, they knew the truth and would demand it. The way he saw it, this was part of what she’d needed to face coming back here. Zia had an obligation to answer the youngster. Eyes of expectation surrounded them as the small group of kids waited for her to speak.

Soft at first, her words crept out. “I had an accident and went back home to Texas to get better.”

“Real talk? You don’t look hurt,” one of the other kids said, eyeing her with suspicion.

“Yeah, real talk.” Greg pushed through the crowd to stand closer. “I was hurt and needed to recuperate away from here.” When she grabbed his hand, he didn’t protest.

Sweet stings of power flowed into him from every precious inch of contact with her hand. It had been so long since he’d been able to touch a woman. The touch of his mate was enough to make him stumble from the impact.

Her need for connection to someone was real. It was possible their chat in the car had done some good. Zia might be able to see that he wasn’t here to play games. He was here for her and her alone. Her hand trembled ever so slightly in his. The woman was frightened. Of what exactly, he didn’t know. She needed strength and support. He would be that person for her. Willing power and strength to flow back to her, he bowed his head as not to show any emotions to her or the kids. Unlike adults who were jaded, kids picked up on the subtlest of things.

This was about Zia facing her necessary battles head-on. A group of kids demanding to know where she’d been and why was one of those tests she had to pass on her own. Never in a million years would he have thought that would be the first hurdle she’d have to face. Giving her a light squeeze of the hand for encouragement, his Gryphon delighted when she spoke up.

“Look, I’m going to level with you. I trusted a guy who wasn’t what he said he was.”

“Then why you with this guy? He don’t look no better,” the first boy said. Greg heard the acid in his words that were laced with intent on malice. It was better not to look him head on and cause the boy to catch a beatdown in front of Zia. Everything about his scent telegraphed the kid’s distaste for him.

“Yeah, he look like one of them guys from the movies who blows up stuff,” one of the girls said. “You know like when the bad guys are all supervillains with special powers or something.”

“Um-hmm, he sure does,” a chorus of voices said.

“He’s too big too. Yeah, I can see how he could be a supervillain. Hey man, I bet you can fly or some shit like that?” one of the other boys, who stood too far for Greg to swipe, asked. “Where you from anyway? Man, yo, he don’t look like them dudes that usually come round cheesing you up. Know what I’m saying, Miss Z?”

The group burst out into laughter at the youth’s teasing of Greg. It was clear he stuck out as the only non-person of color in this intimate crowd. Never one to get sidetracked, he dug in, staying by her side, and holding her small hand.

Another picked up the torch of the ribbing adding, “Yeah man, he look like some Viking shit. Where your hammer at, huh? Check out that blond hair. He sure not from here.” Without having to see the youngsters to know they looked at him holding her hand, the same one added, “Miss Z, damn, you going out like that?”

“Language!” Zia pointed at the one who’d spoken. “Stop being obnoxious. He’s my guest.”

Greg kept his head down trying hard not to laugh at the kids’ casting of him as some action movie supervillain. It was remarkable what kids could see and pick up, too. Yes, he could fly and yes, compared to humans he did have superpowers.

How much of that Zia knew or could remember would be another something he’d have to find out. One thing she hadn’t done was refute what the kid had said about him. Maybe she did remember that night at the Warehouse.

The original boy who acted like the group’s leader stepped closer to Zia, trying to wedge himself between them. Greg had to give it to him. This little guy would make a powerful alpha when he was older, but not today. The youth attempted to angle himself to displace Greg from her side. Greg didn’t move. The boy nudged him. Greg’s Gryphon stilled him with a sense of peace so quiet; his body might appear frozen. Strong mixtures of a cacophony of sweat, testosterone, and other pubescent and ancestral hormones wafted off the youngster.

Yep, he was feeling himself. Seeing he couldn’t move Greg, the youth stepped around to Zia’s other side. Greg didn’t miss the low growls he sent his way either. This young man was good. He wanted to protect Miss Zia, as he’d called her, but Greg suspected he had a huge crush on her as well. He couldn’t blame the boy, Zia was breathtaking. Still, Greg wouldn’t show any aggression toward him or the others.

“Miss Zia, why he here with you then? I got you. You need anything; I got you. You feel me?” the young man asked, voice low.

“Yes, Boogie, I know that. How about I introduce my friend to you. Everyone this man here is Mr. Greg. He was the main one who rescued me from what the other man tried to do to me.” She seemed to have a thought and added, “Sort of like a fireman.”

“Oh,” the chorus of kids’ voices said.

“That’s why he’s so big,” one of the voices said.

“Haha, yeah, that might be why he’s so big. Mr. Greg is my hero. He came here with me today to make sure nothing else bad happens to me.”

“We got you now. He can go on back to where he came from,” Boogie said.

“No, none of that,” she corrected this Boogie.

From how his voice fluctuated, Greg put the youth at around fourteen years old or so, adjusting down for Boogie’s lineage. That was the right age for a young man to start testing his boundaries with other men. Instead of staring the youth down, Greg continued to look at his steel-toed silicon galoshes to allow her to handle the situation. He remained still as stone and only looked back up once she’d made her point and the kids knew she meant what she said.

His Gryphon wanted to poke out his chest a bit, though. She trusted him enough to stand by her side. Zia never released his hand through this exchange. He’d take the inches she gave instead of the leaps he wanted. Movement in the right direction was still progress. Greg liked that the right direction was toward him. Her voice slid back into his thoughts as she continued to handle the situation like the warm, nurturing female she was in her purest essence.

“Do you hear me?” she asked, demanding the young man give her his word.

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“Good. Now, Mr. Greg and I are going to be here for a while. Y’all watch out for his ride while we’re in my apartment, okay?” The chorus spoke up again with yeses as Zia pulled Greg away from them and toward the front of the three-story building. When they were about ten feet away, she said, “Sorry about that. The kids are sort of protective. They don’t like strangers in this part of the neighborhood. You could say they’re our version of the neighborhood watch. Good kids. Nothing gets past them.”

“I see.”

“I’ll get them some cupcakes tomorrow. They were pretty sweet about watching out for me.”

“They should like that.”

“You’re so chatty, can’t shut you up,” she huffed, walking faster to the building.

Greg increased his stride back to normal to catch-up with her.

“Zia,” he said to her back. “I know you have a lot going on, being back here, but I’m not the enemy. I’m here.” Greg took in a breath and a pause to stay focused on being what she needed. He said, “Whatever you need from me to help you get through this, I’ll do it. Tell me what you need. I’m here.”

She turned back around. He could sense eyes behind the windows of the first floor looking at them.

“I need you to talk to me. I can’t take your grunts, one-word sentences, or Coptic responses about God only knows what. Where were you back there when I needed your help with the kids? You went silent like a ghost. Unless you're accusing me of being from a lineage of man-killing mythical mermaids and harpies, I don’t get more than a few words or weird short responses from you. I need you to act like you want to be here with me. I need you to talk with me. Can’t you see how scared I am?” She looked to be running out of breath with how fast and hard her words were tumbling out. A few more outbursts and she’d overload. He approached as she shot the last part out. “I need your help!”

Before he could change his mind, Greg pulled her into his arms and held her. Zia’s body quaked from the force of the sobs coming down. He stood there holding her as she cried. An older woman came out her door to see what the commotion was about. When she saw him holding Zia, she nodded and went back inside. His back was to the parking lot, but no sounds of children floated on the air close to them. She held onto him continuing to cry and tremble.

After a few minutes, he gently guided her to the hallway of the building.

“What’s your apartment number?”

Through hiccups, she managed to get out, “I’m on the third floor, number three-twelve.”

Instead of releasing her to walk the stairs, Greg picked her up in a bridal carry and took the stairs two at a time. She said nothing, nestling into his arms as she continued to sob softly. This tore at him. The pain was tightly compacted, almost immovable. There was so much she’d pushed down for so long, it was no wonder she’d kept it together this long. Made up in his mind, Greg would encourage her to cry for as long as she needed to when they made it into her apartment.

“Here we are.” He stood in front of her apartment. The welcome mat boasted a cheerful welcome with a fat cartoon cupcake design on it. This was her place.

“Let me down. I have to get my keys.”

Without protest, he did as she commanded. When Zia walked into the apartment, he sensed the pungent stench of sour emotions, alien flesh, and addiction. That Egolar, Patrick, had been in here, but this foulness was fresh.

Greg clamped down hard, grinding his teeth as he walked in and pretended nothing was out of the ordinary. If he’d been around her sooner, none of what she’d gone through would have happened.

“You okay?” she asked in the distance. “You have that far away look again.”

Tell her—his Gryphon wisdom prodded.

Opting for a portion of the candid truth Zia should be able to handle, he said, “I can still smell him in here.”

Wide eyes looked around. “Who? Do you mean, him—Patrick?”

“Yes.” Fear marched across her features, followed by the start of panic. Pulling her back into his arms for reassurance, he added, “But, he’s gone. I promise. No one’s here now.” Then sensing she was in no shape to do anything here today, he offered, “How about I help you pack a big bag real quick. I want you to come back to the Lair with me. You’re welcome to stay there for as long as you like. We can come back tomorrow and try it again. How does that sound?”

Instead of answering, she nodded, refusing to look up at him. After a few more minutes of willing comfort to soothe her, Greg released her and started looking around to find a bag or suitcase to pack. Coming to from her daze, Zia kicked into gear. They had a good amount of her clothes packed into a set of three suitcases in less than a half hour. Once Greg had the cases in the back and Zia seated in the passenger’s seat, he started the engine, intent on getting her back to the Lair post haste.

When he’d avoided her advances earlier, Greg thought that had been the biggest test of his character. Bringing her back to the Lair to stay with him would be the ultimate show of his mettle and stamina. Zia Carter might be his mate, but she was also a Siren who’d obviously been raised to be an astute Seductress. When a Siren, whether she knew it or not, locked sight on a man, his chances for refusal were slim to none.

The Gryphon in him might be immune to her Siren wiles, but the man in him wanted his mate. It had been too long. Seductress as she was, Zia could promise, persuade, pull, and even pummel a man’s will into submission. That side of her he could deal with. It was her vulnerable purity that peeked out, begging him to see her that did him in.

The more time he spent with her, the more he knew his mate was nothing like the public persona she portrayed. She was good, honorable, and fragile; all the things that would make him a goner to his base nature if he couldn’t keep vigil over himself. It wasn’t their time yet to mate. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind or state of emotions to enter into the eternal bond he demanded. Greg had to resist, not give in, and exercise wise patience until she was ready.

Greg was sure that he’d fallen for her without a hope of escape. He looked over to see her unfocused and tired as they pulled out of the parking area to drive them back home. A last glance back at her building had him slowing down to take a second look.

Like a mist in the shadows of the darkened hallway of her floor, he could swear someone or something watched their departure. Pushing through the firmament of the earthly space, he pressed in. The lingering smell of Egolar did nothing to calm his suspicions.

“Anything wrong?” Her voice came out tepid and small.

He stayed quiet waiting for confirmation of what he suspected. Greg hated not answering, but he wanted wisdom to prevail in everything, especially when it came to her, his mate.

Another moment to scan the area in the psychic realm and his actions took over. A firm press on the accelerator and the vehicle lurched forward. Greg ignored the startled huge gray-green eyes that looked over at him.

“Let’s get you home,” was all he said.

“Yeah, okay?” Confusion laced her response but all Greg focused on was the fact that she didn’t dispute his assertion that the Lair was their home.

Inch by inch. That’s all he needed.

Greg wasn’t going to give up any won ground. It was time to get his mate home where he could protect and watch over her. New determination focused him on getting back.

Once he had her settled, Lucien and the others needed to hear about their outing today. Maneuvering the SUV onto the highway, he felt the new energy surge through him like a sleek cat on the prowl.

One thing he hadn’t told anyone yet was how depleted he’d been up until Zia had shown up at the Lair this morning. Like his brother, Matt, once he knew who his mate was and had touched her, the mating pull had started. With the start of the mating process, he’d endured the effects of being away from her for so long that soon, he’d be unable to go to the portal without telling Lucien about the grave state of his depleted power.

Only Miss Connie had tapped into how bad it was. She was the main reason Zia was here now. As the healer she was, Miss Connie had found a way to preserve his strength long enough to give him time to win over his mate.

Driving in silence, he ran through an internal check of how much energy he’d gained in the short time being around and touching his Zia. Still, he wouldn’t try to manipulate her to do anything she wasn’t ready for. Seeing how affected she’d been by going home, there was nothing, not even his own life, that would make him try to make her stay in Atlanta if she didn’t want to be here. Zia’s trauma was deeper than he’d imagined.

When he got her back to the Lair, he'd start working to help her get past this. Then, he’d rely on the Goddess for strength and guidance.

He had to be prepared to allow his mate to leave if staying here wasn’t healthy for her.