“I don’t like the idea of causing you pain, and that’s going to happen when we train. It’s inevitable.” A strand of hair came loose from his ponytail and fell across his cheek. My fingers itched to tuck it back. Thankfully I couldn’t move my hands. “But I also know that pulling back isn’t going to help you. It’s not going to help me. I know what I need to do as your Protector.”

As your Protector.

For some reason, those words repeated over and over until he said, “And I was telling the truth. I was lying there because I was enjoying myself, not because I’m a nice guy.”

My lips parted as a heady burst of exhilaration swept through me, banging on that file cabinet drawer labeled ZAYNE. I didn’t know how to respond, or even if I should, because it was probably best that I didn’t.

Zayne let go of my wrists and rocked back onto his feet. He extended his hand toward me. “Ready?”

Well then...

Exhaling a ragged breath, I sat up and placed my hand against his palm. His hand curled around mine, the grip warm and firm as he hauled me to my feet with minimal effort on my part.

“Ready.” I gave myself a good mental slap in the face.

We squared off in the center of the mats, and I thought I would have to begin, but I was wrong. Zayne came at me first. I got over the initial shock and darted under his arm. I was quick and light on my feet, but so was Zayne. I came back at him, but he feinted in one direction only to spin, kicking out his leg. I blocked the kick, and at that moment I knew Zayne wasn’t holding back because the blow echoed up my arm, forcing me to take a step back.

And that brought a smile to my face.

Kind of twisted, but whatever.

I spun out to avoid a sharp thrust that would’ve surely hurt and delivered a rather brutal sideways kick to his back.

Zayne grunted but stayed on the balls of his feet as he faced me. “Ouch.”

“Sorry. Not sorry.” I shot toward him, losing the distance that kept him in my central vision, and Zayne must have realized that because he darted right. My breath caught and then exploded from my chest. I couldn’t move fast enough. His fist caught my shoulder, spinning me around. I stumbled back, stuck between irritation and respect. He’d done what he needed to do. Found my weakness and gone for it.

We kept at it, blow after blow. Most I deflected. Some I missed because we were fighting too close and he was too quick for me to gain any distance. Sweat dampened my brow, and my heart pounded from the exertion.

“I’ve taken you down five times,” I told him, dragging my arm over my forehead as we broke apart.

“And I’ve gotten you on those mats six times,” he replied. “Not that I’m counting.”

“Uh-huh.” I charged at him, dipping low and going for his legs, something I was learning was his weakness.

Zayne saw it coming and swung his fist again, but this time I was fast enough, moving to the side so I could see the punch. I caught his fist and twisted.

Zayne tsked and broke the hold all too easily, but I was prepared. I turned on my heel, moving behind him. Planting my weight on one foot, I swung my arms in a low arch to pick up momentum as I jumped off my left foot and spun in the air with my right leg out lower than usual, delivering a butterfly kick to Zayne’s kneecaps.

He went down onto his back as I landed and rose to stand over him.

“We’re tied now.” I grinned despite the ache in my forearms and legs.

Zayne picked himself up. “You’re enjoying this,” he said, knocking the strand of hair out of his face.

“I am,” I chirped.

“A little too much.”

Laughing, I started toward him but skidded to a halt when I saw that he’d lowered his hands and was staring at me with a rather strange look on his face. “What?”

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “Your laugh.”

“What about it?”

A smile formed and then vanished as he gave a shake of his head. “It’s nothing.”

“No. It’s something. Was it weird? Did I cackle? Peanut says I cackle. Like a witch.”

“No.” Half of that smile returned. “It wasn’t a cackle. It was nice. Actually, it was a great laugh. You just... I haven’t heard you laugh like that a lot.”

I shifted from one foot to the next. “You haven’t?”

“No.” He pushed the hair out of his face again. “I think the last time I heard you laugh like that was when you jumped those rooftops and nearly gave me a heart attack.”

I smiled. I had scared the bejesus out of him, and he’d come at me, angry and... Well, anger hadn’t been the only thing he’d been feeling that night. My smile faded. That had been the night the imps had attacked and I had taken the claw out of his chest and...

I looked away, letting out a breath and pumping the brakes on that train of thought. “Maybe I’ll jump off some rooftops again so you can hear the laugh.”

“As much as I love the sound, that would be entirely unnecessary.”

“I don’t think so.” I padded to where I’d left my Coke and took a drink, wishing it was fresher. “I think I’m going to need another shower.”

“Ditto.” Zayne stepped off the mats.

My skin flushed as I thought about the fact that there was only one shower, we both were sweaty and conserving water was good for the environment.

He stopped by the couch and propped a hip against the back. “You know what I think?”

Hopefully what I was thinking. Or maybe not hopefully.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

I opened my mouth.

“Yeah, I know that’s shocking to hear, since you give yourself all kinds of credit.” He smirked when I snapped my mouth shut. “But I was purposely getting into your blind spots, and you were handling it well.”

Trying not to be too pleased, I put on my glasses and sat on a bar stool. Zayne’s face became a little clearer. “But not perfect, and I need to be perfect.”

“No one can be perfect,” he corrected. “But you could improve and I think...” Zayne trailed off as his phone beeped. He picked it up, and then his brows slammed down and his jaw became so hard that I thought he’d cracked a molar. “Dammit.”

I stiffened. “What?”

“It’s Roth,” he bit out. “He’s here, and he brought friends.”

6

Roth.

Also known as Astaroth, who just happened to be the actual Crown Prince of Hell.

“He knows where you live?” I asked.

“Apparently,” Zayne grumbled. “There goes the neighborhood.”

I squelched my laugh as Zayne strode across the floor and placed the cell on the island. I wasn’t all that concerned that Roth knew where Zayne lived or that he was here. Yes, Roth was a demon—a very powerful Upper Level demon—but he wasn’t the enemy.

At least, not ours.

Zayne and Roth had a weird relationship.

A lot of it had to do with the fact that Wardens and demons being remotely friendly toward one another was unheard of, because, well, duh. One represented Heaven. The other represented Hell. Wardens hunted demons. Demons hunted Wardens. That was the circle of life right there, and it was quite understandable that they were natural-born enemies.

Except it wasn’t.

Zayne was the first Warden I’d met who didn’t view all demons as if they were evil incarnate. Like all Wardens, I was raised to believe that there was no question when it came to their evilness, but because of Zayne, I was learning that demons were...complex, and some seemed to be able to exercise free will, just like humans and Wardens.

Not all demons were irrationally evil. Though, I wasn’t sure if rationally evil was any better, but I was learning that good and evil weren’t cut and dry. That no one, not even Wardens or demons, was born one way and stayed stagnate in their choices and deeds. Demons were capable of great goodness, and Wardens could accomplish great evil.

Look at...look at Misha. Although Wardens were born with pure souls—and if there was a list of all that was good and holy in the world, they’d be damn near the top—Misha had done horrible things. He’d been evil. There was no denying that.

But it wasn’t only what Zayne and Roth each were that made it strange that they were sort of friendly with one another. It was what they had in common.

Layla.

Anyway, I guessed Zayne and Roth were sort of frenemies.

Roth had helped Zayne and I meet with the coven of witches who’d been responsible for placing an enchantment spell on humans, and that was something he hadn’t needed to do. Another oddly undemonic thing he’d done was, when we’d been ambushed by Upper Level demons and nearly died at Senator Fisher’s house, Roth had come back to help Zayne after he’d gotten Layla to safety. Maybe he’d done it because of Layla’s complicated history with Zayne, but he had come back and that meant something.

“Wait,” I said. “You said he’s bringing friends?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Every muscle in my body tensed as Zayne went to the console beside the door and hit a button just as a buzzing sound came from the intercom.

“Come on up,” he said into the speaker, his voice full of exasperation.

When Roth said friends, did he mean Layla? Would he really bring her here, knowing all that had gone down between her and Zayne? It was the demon who had told me about Zayne and Layla’s messy history. I’d had no clue about it until Roth had broken the news.

Although if he had brought her, I didn’t have a problem with her being here. Layla had been nothing but nice to me—well, she hadn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat when I’d first met her. I still thought there was a good chance she wanted to eat me, but she seemed okay and she was obviously so very deeply in love with Roth.

Maybe Roth was bringing Cayman, a demon broker who bartered souls and other valuable possessions for a whole range of things that humans were willing to give up. He even made deals with other demons, so he was an equal opportunity player right there. I hoped it was Cayman, because I knew I was a sweaty, hot mess, and my hair was a ratted—