“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said as the elevator door slid shut behind him. “Glad to see you up and moving about.”

“Sorry I slept so late.” I lifted my hands and then dropped them back to my lap, unsure what to do with them. He was carrying some kind of paper rolled up and tucked under one arm and a brown paper sack in his other hand. “Do you need help with any of that?” I asked, even though that was a dumb question considering Zayne could lift a Ford Explorer with one hand.

“Nah. And don’t apologize. You needed the rest.” His features were blurry to me, even with my glasses on, but they became clearer and sharper with every step he took toward me.

My gaze skittered away, but that didn’t stop me from knowing what he looked like.

Which was utterly, breathtakingly, brutally beautiful. I could come up with more adjectives to describe him, but in all honesty, none would do him justice.

His skin was a golden hue that had nothing to do with being in the sun. High, broad cheekbones matched a wide, expressive mouth that was finished off with a jaw that could’ve been carved from granite.

I wished he was less attractive—or that I was less shallow—but even if both were the case, it would make little difference at the end of the day. Zayne wasn’t just a pretty package that hid an ugly interior or a vapid personality. He was wicked smart, with a keen intelligence that was as sharp as his wit. I found him funny and entertaining, even when he was getting on my nerves and being overprotective. Most important, though, Zayne was genuinely kind, and God, kindness was so underrated by most.

He had a good heart, a big and gracious one, even though he was missing a part of his soul.

There was a saying that the eyes were the window to the soul, and it was true. At least for Wardens it was and, because of what happened to him, his eyes were a pale, frosty shade of blue.

He’d been dating Layla, the half demon, half Warden he’d grown up with, who also happened to be the daughter of Lilith. She and Zayne had kissed and, because of the way Lilith’s abilities had manifested in Layla, she’d taken a part of his soul.

My hands curled into fists. The whole soul-sucking thing had been accidental, and Zayne had known the risks involved, but that didn’t stop the flash of anger and something far more sour that shot through me. Zayne had wanted her bad enough—loved her enough—to take that risk. To put himself and his life beyond this one into jeopardy just to kiss her.

That was hard-core, because I doubted a less-than-whole soul was looked upon favorably when one got to the Pearly Gates, no matter how good someone’s heart was.

That kind of love couldn’t just die, not in seven months, and something I didn’t want to acknowledge—something I had filed away in that cabinet—wilted a little in my chest.

“You doing okay?” Zayne asked as he placed the bag and rolled-up paper on the island. The scent coming from the brown bag reminded me of grilled meat.

Wondering if he was picking up anything through the bond, I kept my eyes trained on the paper bag as I nodded. “Yeah. So, um, about last night.”

“What about it?”

“I’m sorry for, you know, blubbering all over you.” Heat swept over my cheeks.

“You don’t need to apologize, Trin. You’ve been through a lot—”

“So have you.” I stared at my fingers and my chipped, blunt nails.

“You needed me, and I needed to be there.” Zayne made it sound so simple, as if that was the way it always had been.

“You said that last night.”

“Still holds true today.”

Pressing my lips together, I nodded again as I drew in a long breath and then let it out slowly. I felt the warmth of his hand before his fingers pressed under my chin. The moment his skin touched mine, an odd shock of electricity, of awareness, coursed through me, and I had no idea if that was due to the bond or if it was just him. That unique scent of his, which reminded me of wintermint, teased my senses. He tipped my head up, lifting my gaze to his.

Zayne was leaning across the island, his arm stretched over the rolled paper. That pale gaze flickered over my face, and one side of his lips curled up. “You’re wearing your glasses.”

“I am.”

That half grin grew. “You don’t wear them often.”

I didn’t, and not because of some lame vanity reason. Other than reading or being on the laptop, they didn’t help much other than to make some things a little less blurry.

“I like them. I like them on you.”

My glasses were just plain square black rims, no cool color or pattern, but I suddenly felt like I should wear them more often.

And then I wasn’t thinking about my glasses, because the fingers on my chin shifted and I felt his thumb slide along the skin just under my lip. A fine shiver danced over my skin, followed by a wholly different kind of flush, one that was heady and exhilarating.

You want to kiss me again, don’t you?

I could hear him speak those words as if he’d said them out loud, like he had after I’d helped remove an imp’s claw from his chest. I’d said yes then, without hesitation, even though it hadn’t exactly been a wise idea.

Unwise ideas have always been fun—a lot of fun.

His gaze lowered, lashes shielding his eyes, and I thought that he might be staring at my mouth, and that... I wanted that too much.

I pulled back, just out of his reach.

Zayne dropped his hand, clearing his throat. “How did you sleep?”

“Good.” I found my voice as the warmth eased and my pulse slowed. “You?”

The glance he sent me as he straightened said he wasn’t sure if he believed me or not. “Slept only because I was exhausted, but it could’ve been better.”

“The couch can’t be all that comfortable.”

His gaze met mine again, and my breath caught. I knew better than to offer him the bed, but it was big enough to share and we were both mature adults. Sort of. We’d shared before without shenanigans going down, but shenanigans of the fun and forbidden kind had definitely gone down the last time we’d shared that bed.

Zayne shrugged. “You got my note?”

Relieved at the change of subject, I shook my head. “Peanut saw you writing it and told me all about it. Said you went to see Nicolai.”

He froze, fingers in the process of opening the bag. I pressed my lips together to stop my smile as he glanced behind him. “Is he here now?”

I looked around the empty apartment. “Not that I know of. Why? Are you creeped out that he was with you and you had no idea?” I teased. “Scared of little old Peanut?”

“I am confident enough in my badassery to fully acknowledge that having a ghost hanging around gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Heebie-jeebies?” I laughed. “What are you? Twelve?”

He snorted as he unrolled the bag and the scent of grilled meat increased. “Watch it, or I’ll eat this hamburger I got for you right in front of you and enjoy it.”

My stomach grumbled as he pulled out a white carton. “I would drop-kick you into a wall if you did that.”

Zayne chuckled as he placed the carton in front of me and then pulled out another. “Want something to drink?” He turned to the fridge. “I think there might be a Coke in here, since you refuse to drink water.”

“Water is for people concerned about their health, and I’m not about that kind of life.”

Shaking his head again, he pulled out a can of carbonated goodness and a bottle of water. He slid the first over the island toward me.

“Did you know drinking eight eight-ounce glasses of water a day is about as helpful as the whole ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’ for most healthy people?” I asked. “That you really only need to drink water when you’re thirsty, because duh, that’s why you experience thirst, especially because you get water from other beverages, like my beautiful calorie-ridden soda, and from foods? That the studies that came up with the whole eight eight-ounce stuff also stated that you can get most of your water in the foods you eat, but when the reports were made public, they conveniently left that out?”

Zayne arched a brow as he screwed the lid off his water.

“Fact-check me. There’s no scientific evidence whatsoever that supports the whole eight-by-eight rule, and I’m not someone who needs to drown themselves in water.” I popped open my soda. “So, let me live my life.”

He downed half the bottle in one impressive gulp. “Thanks for the health lesson.”

“You’re welcome.” I grinned at him as I opened the carton. My stomach did a happy dance when I got an eyeful of the grilled hamburger smack-dab between a toasted sesame bun and a side order of curly fries. “And thank you for the food. You’re a keeper.”

“Good. I want to be kept.”

My gaze flew to him. He wasn’t looking at me as he got busy opening his food, which was a good thing, because my imagination had taken those five words and gone to town with them.

Sensation burst in the center of my chest, and it reminded me oddly of how pepper smelled. It felt like frustration, and I thought it might be coming from Zayne.

That was weird.

“But you really can’t get rid of me at this point, can you?” He looked up through thick lashes. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Yeah.” I blinked and finished unwrapping my burger. I didn’t think of it that way, though. He was my bonded Protector. I was the Trueborn he guarded. Together, we were a force to be reckoned with because we were built for one another, and the only thing that could separate us was death.

Deep down, did he look at us as if we were stuck with one another, even though he hadn’t hesitated when he’d been offered the bond? Wasn’t that what had happened with Misha? Besides the fact that we never should’ve been bonded, I had sensed a growing unrest in him, but I’d been so wrapped up in myself that I hadn’t paid attention.

Not until it was too late.