Fourteen

Quinn slammed the truck door and stormed toward their church hideout. The hot fury racing in her blood made her shake and the twilight air feel more summer than winter. Despite the fact that her idea had worked and she’d found evidence of Braden’s captor, Zaire—aka Most Infuriating Man Ever—refused to include her in his plans.

Said maddening man climbed out of the truck with annoying calm and followed. He hardly required the one crutch he used anymore, another jab at her ego. He didn’t need her like she needed him, he’d made that crystal-clear, and the thought of having him in her life for only a few days destroyed her.

Fuming, she stalked into the sanctuary, and the second Zaire stepped inside the entrance, she whirled on him.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” She blinked back angry tears, refusing to break down. “Admit it, we got more done together than you’ve accomplished alone.”

“No.” His new favorite word. He limped by without looking at her.

Quinn leaned back against the wall, frustration and fear writhing inside, a fireball waiting to explode. She wasn’t an idiot. He could walk now if he wanted to, which meant that he planned to leave soon, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he did it without a goodbye. She blew out a long breath. If he refused to acknowledge common sense, maybe he’d respond to raw honesty.

“I don’t want to go back to a world where you don’t exist.” She swallowed hard. Speaking from her heart wasn’t as easy as she expected. “I’ve waited to find you my entire life, the boy from my dreams who kept me safe from the monsters. I’ve never stopped wanting you.” Her voice dropped to a vulnerable whisper. “Loving you.”

He jerked to a stop, and for a timeless moment, she thought he’d ignore her confession and keep going. At last, he leaned the crutch against a pew and faced her. His burning gaze fixed on her, Zaire moved toward her with slow, liquid steps. As he walked, he yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. In the dancing, stained-glass colors of fading light, all the silver scars scattered over his skin gleamed white.

Quinn leaned heavily against the wall, thankful for its support. While only days ago, she’d seen him naked—well, mostly naked—and hadn’t forgotten the power and beauty in his every line, seeing him in action was a completely different experience. Every muscle seemed defined and limned in the last slice of sunlight, controlled strength in every move, and the dark line of hair trailing down into his jeans made her stomach clench. He was the sexiest man, creature, beast who’d ever invaded her dreams, her kitchen, her life.

He stopped an inch from her toes and planted each hand on the wall above her shoulders—a dark, menacing cage. “Is this what you want, Quinn?” His voice was velvet, as dangerous as it was alluring. “A man who is more monster than human?”

It took her a minute to make her tongue work. “I don’t see any monster.”

He dipped his head, bringing his mouth closer to hers. “Look again, dearling. Every mark on my body is a demon’s claim on my soul.”

Her heart stopped, frozen mid-beat. She couldn’t look away from his black-void gaze. That must be why every time she touched a silver scar it burned, icy-hot.

His mouth curved into a cold smile, laced with ancient cruelty. “That’s what I thought.”

Even though he wasn’t touching her, he was close enough that his body heat seeped into her skin, infecting her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. “Stop trying to figure me out.” She tried to smile, but had a feeling it wasn’t convincing. “I can’t even figure myself out.”

Zaire cocked his head, and the shadows surrounding them seemed to shimmer. “You’re lost, searching for something that’s missing. You care about others, sometimes too much, and you hate disappointing the people you love.” His mouth twitched. “How is my assessment so far?”

Since his mouth was mere inches from hers, fracturing her focus, she managed a shrug.

“You’ve wondered why you’re different, why you don’t fit anywhere.” His voice was midnight soft. “Why you dream in nightmares. Why I was there.”

Her blood pumped harder. This was it, finally, her start. Their start. When all the secrets emerged into the light. She nodded, not wanting to do anything that might break whatever spell that made him speak now.

“I’m the worst of those nightmares, Quinn,” he said softly. “I’m the monster the nightmares fear.”

Slowly, hoping she wasn’t ruining everything, Quinn touched his cheek and held his gaze. “If the nightmares fear you, then we’re on the same team.”

He closed his eyes as if her touch brought a mix of exquisite pleasure and pain. “You’ve survived the entirety of your life without me, Quinn.” Even his tone held an edge of agony. “I have nothing to offer you.”

Scarcely breathing, she trailed her fingers down his neck to the tail of the scar ending at his collarbone. The contact chopped cold up her arm, but she refused to flinch. “Surviving isn’t the same as living.” She kept her attention on the scar, half-afraid to decipher what she might find in either his expression or his eyes. “I’ve waited my entire life for you to find me.”

Zaire hissed, and she lifted her gaze to his. A storm of emotions swirled there, deep and twisted and knotted, but before she could unravel them, he pressed his mouth to hers, a soft whisper of contact.

Heat unfurled through her limbs, traveling at light speed, and she gasped.

He flinched as though she’d slapped him and turned away.

As if she would let him go now. Or ever. Quinn grabbed his wrist and pulled him back around. “You can’t distract me with a kiss and then take off. There are way too many things you haven’t told me yet.” She couldn’t look away from his full, sensuous mouth, those lips that had knocked her socks off just by grazing hers. “But if you want to kiss me first, I’m down with that.”

His chest heaving, he planted his hands on the wall again, but this time, his intention seemed less about menace and more about supporting himself. “All you need to know is to never remove your cross. Guard your dreams, be happy, and once I leave, forget you ever met me.”

“Never.” She touched the scar on his collarbone again.

His dark eyelashes lifted, and when he met her gaze once more, the void had returned. “I know you’re not a fool, Quinn. Do you truly believe being tied to me wouldn’t present a danger to you, to your family, to everyone you love?”

She refused to shudder. “My mom’s a politician. We’re used to people trying to manipulate us, we’re experts at reading others, and pretty good at protecting ourselves besides.”

He didn’t look impressed. “People aren’t your worst worries.”

“Which is why I need you around.” She gave him her brightest smile. “To exorcise men who can turn into smoke demons and jump into my head.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you’re asking, what it would entail.”

“Define it. Enlighten me.”

“You and I, together, is not going to happen. Ever.”

“You don’t like me? I’m not your type?” She swallowed the hurt, needing his answer. “You don’t want me?”

“Quinn.” Anguish underscored his voice. “I’m dying from the wanting.”

Something inside her splintered and opened her soul wide. All these years, he’d loved her too.

“I’ve never wanted anyone else.” He caressed her cheek with his knuckles, his expression tortured. “I want you in a way that defies explanation.” His gaze fixed on her mouth. “I need you so much it hurts, and yet, in equal measure, it brings me joy that I can’t describe.”

Quinn could hardly manage a response. “And those are bad things?”

“The worst.” He spoke so quietly she had to strain to hear his words.

“Why?”

“Because you deserve love, and that’s something I cannot give you. If I was a normal man, I would have made you mine by now.”

She wanted to make a snarky comment about his unswerving confidence, but she couldn’t argue. If he made a move, it wasn’t like she’d refuse him. “Luckily, I’m not a normal girl.”

His mouth tightened. “Love is the greatest weakness, and surrendering to that would do nothing to me, but it would destroy you through me, and that I will never allow.”

“You’re wrong. Alone, if you fall, there is no one to pick you up. We’re stronger together.”

“If I fall alone, there is no one else who will be hurt.”

He blamed himself for Braden’s capture, not seeing how his care for his nephew was something precious. He didn’t question that Braden was worth fighting for, but he marginalized the treasure of his own attention. Something especially awful must’ve happened in his past for him to come to this conclusion. She knew his upbringing hadn’t been a cakewalk, but to believe life was better alone, with zero connections, was a lie. Her family had faced their fair share of others trying to exploit any weakness, but a united front of support, acceptance, and love had always prevailed.

“If I happened to be hurt while helping you stand after a fall, it would be worth every second of pain or heartache.” She trapped his face with both hands. “We’ll find Braden and get him back.”

“There’s that word again. We.” He eased back, out of her hold, taking his body heat with him. “There is no we, Quinn. There can never be a we.”

That fireball inside her from minutes ago reignited. Why couldn’t he see that together they could conquer any obstacle? “Look, sunshine, it’s been a really long time—as in ever—since I’ve felt like I actually had a purpose, or that I’ve been excited about doing anything.” She fisted her hands. “My entire life has been on hold as I tried to pigeonhole where I belonged, and nothing felt right. Until you.” She stepped closer, near enough to invade his space. “And focusing on finding Braden feels one hundred percent right.” She pointed a finger in his face. “I’ll tell you right now, not as a warning, but so you can be prepared. Once we find Braden and swipe him from the clutches of the Crows, I won’t accept your lame excuses at there being no we, no us, no together.”

His eyebrows went high, and his mouth twitched as though undecided whether to slip back into a scowl or head up into one of his not-really-a-smile grins.

“You say love is the greatest weakness, and my next life goal is to prove you wrong. Love is a strength, and even when it’s perceived as a failing, it sure as hell beats being alone.”

From the foyer, the definite click of the back door lock echoed, and Zaire spun toward the sanctuary entryway. Before he was halfway across the room, a voice rang out.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Stephanie. The tension drained from Quinn, replaced by a smile, but Zaire still headed for the door, a dagger in his hand. Telling him not to worry, that it was just Stephanie, might not stop him from knife play. She sprinted to catch up.

Zaire caught her arm before she passed him. “Stay behind me.”

She resisted a shudder. Even his voice switched to chilled. “It’s Stephanie. My BFF, the owner of this building, a person you definitely don’t want to kill. Or maim. Or hurt in any manner.”

Glazed with violence, his eyes narrowed, which implied that he imagined doing all those things and more to the woman he felt had wronged Quinn more than once…without him even meeting her.

The click-clack of heels came closer.

Quinn tugged on his arm. “Promise me you won’t do anything to her.”

He plowed right on through her restraint on his arm, dragging her with him.

“Hurting her would hurt me.”

He halted so suddenly, she stumbled a foot ahead before stopping. Murder flashed in his black-pit eyes and his expression alone could have made a hardened sailor keel over. His jaw clenched, unclenched, tightened again.

Stephanie’s steps drew closer.

“Please.” She squeezed his hand. “She’s on my list of people I love.”

He closed his eyes, as though praying for strength. Or patience for fools. “Today,” he finally said. “I make that promise for today, but if she harms you in any way, physically or emotionally, that promise is rescinded.”

She lifted on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, ignoring how he flinched. “Thank you.”

“Q!” Stephanie stalled in the sanctuary entrance, looking her usual glamorous self. Her long, red siren hair was straightened and glossed to perfection, jeans sparkling in strategic places enhanced her man-eater curves, and the turquoise cashmere sweater she wore made her blue eyes pop.

“Don’t tell me.” Quinn closed the distance between them and gave her a hug. “You dumped whatever poor love-sick sucker you were on a date with to come here.”

Stephanie rocked her back and forth, squeezing. “So what? I gave him the pleasure of my company and allowed him to buy me dinner. Breaking his heart early was an act of kindness. Scientists are never my type, but I generously gave him an hour to change my mind.”

“Saint Stephanie.” Quinn rolled her eyes behind Steph’s back.

“In the flesh.” Stephanie leaned back and studied Quinn’s face.

“How did you know I was here?”

Steph sniffed. “I saw the Jesus picture behind you when we Skyped. It wasn’t rocket science.”

Dang. She should’ve thought of that. Anything in the background would’ve tipped Steph off. She knew every pillow, picture, scratch and crack in this place.

“Besides, I haven’t seen you in days.” Her gaze flicked over Quinn’s shoulder, toward Zaire. “I was worried.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Quinn put on her best smile, hooked arms with Steph, and spun to face Zaire. “Steph, I’d like to introduce you to Zaire.” She leaned close to Steph’s ear and whispered. “Please don’t piss him off.”

From the tick in Zaire’s jaw, her whisper wasn’t low enough.

“And Zaire,” she continued brightly, “this is Stephanie Miller, someone who’s extremely important to me. She’s been my friend since first grade, stuck by my side through every crest and trough, never says never, and is my best girlfriend in the universe. Oh, and soon to be the best psychologist.”

“Didn’t expect the lofty introduction, but I’m down with it.” Stephanie held out her pale, slender hand. “Zaire, the one man who snagged the elusive Quinn Carmichael’s interest. I’m honored, curious, and have been dying to get you on my couch.”

Zaire’s black eyes gleamed with death.

“She means that professionally, as in doctor’s couch,” Quinn said quickly. “In her office. To ask you questions and figure out the roots of all your motivations.”

“It’s what I initially meant,” Stephanie said in her breathy I’m-so-getting-lucky voice, “although now that I see you, my intentions might be less honorable than before.”

An odd sensation snaked through Quinn, hot and uncomfortable. Imagining Stephanie with Zaire awakened a frightening urge to pull out her cross and go on a rampage, no demons required. She shoved the jealousy back before Zaire sensed it.

Wolfgang chose that moment to make his presence known. He padded in from the hallway, his tail a straight antenna in the air. Without acknowledging her, he strolled straight to Zaire and leaned against his calf, purring.

“Traitor,” Quinn mumbled. Not that she could blame him for wanting to be close to Zaire.

“Speaking of intentions,” Stephanie continued, “what are yours with Quinn?”

Quinn groaned, her face heating. “Since when do intentions matter to you—other than what goes on in one night?”

“If this was a fling, it wouldn’t.” Stephanie held Zaire’s gaze. “But we can talk about it later.” She pulled an envelope out of her purse and handed it to Quinn. “I told Isaac I was going to see you.” Her smile was smug. “Any chance I get to tick off royal pain-in-the-rump Molly, I’m all over it, especially if it includes getting my hands all over Isaac.”

“Gross.” Quinn wrinkled her nose. “Keep your lewd thoughts about my brother private.”

“One day, he will be mine.” She lifted a finger in the air. “Oh, yes, he will be mine.”

“One day, you’ll have to hire your own psychologist.” She held the envelope up to the light. “What’s this?”

“Isaac said it’s the analysis you were waiting for.”

“Wow. That was fast.”

Stephanie grinned. “You’re welcome. My agreement to go out with the scientist helped speed things up.”

“How did you—?” Quinn shook her head and opened the envelope. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She tugged a single paper free and moved beside Zaire. “Any of this make sense to you?”

He leaned close over her shoulder, wrapping her in his heat. “Silver.” A growl entered his tone. “Iron and amethyst.” He jabbed a long, scarred finger at the last element on the list, UNK. “What does that mean?”

“There was one ingredient in there Watts couldn’t determine.” Stephanie plopped on a pew, stretched out her long legs, and flashed her burgundy Miu Miu velvet boots. “It killed him. He would’ve been done with it a day ago, but he hated being unable to ascertain what it was.”

“We can discuss this later.” Zaire cut a glare at Stephanie.

A thread of unease stitched across Quinn’s shoulder blades. Promise or not, any insult to Steph would include retaliation. She didn’t want to know what might happen from there. “You can talk freely in front of Stephanie. She’s an almost psychologist and understands confidentiality.”

“There are only two people in this world I trust.” His voice was colder than the night. “She’s not one of them.”

“But I trust her.” Quinn kept her tone soothing. “Plus, this is her place. Extra vote of confidence.”

Zaire snatched the paper from her fingers and dropped his chin, bringing his face closer to hers. “Your safety does not permit any room for error or misplaced trust. I will discuss nothing of importance until we’re alone.”

“Friendly one, aren’t you?” Stephanie’s smile dripped with challenge.

“He’s had a rough few days, Steph.” Quinn winced at the fright-night smile Zaire aimed at her friend. “We’re on the same team. Can’t we all just get along?”

“Sure,” Stephanie said, her smile turning saccharine sweet.

Zaire’s face went stony. “I don’t play well with others.”

“Except Quinn, you mean.” Steph fixed him with a steady, piercing look. “If you don’t treat her right, I don’t care how scary your vibe is. I’ll make sure you pay in testicles.”

Zaire’s expression turned deadly.

“Gah!” Quinn grabbed Steph by the arm and dragged her from the sanctuary until she was sure they were out of Zaire’s earshot. She whirled on her friend. “What’s gotten into you?”

Stephanie studied her fingernails. “Not sure what you’re referring to, Q.”

“I finally meet a guy—and not just any guy, but the guy—and you threaten him. I thought you’d be ecstatic, happy-dancing on the table that I’d actually found someone I want to be with.”

“Be with?” Steph arched an elegant eyebrow. “Is that Quinn Carmichael terminology for getting it on, down and dirty?”

Quinn let her head fall back as she groaned. “Why did I ever want friends?”

“Listen, Q.” Her voice softened along with her expression. “If he was any Joe off the street, I’d be giving you a double thumbs up. But the way you talk about him, the way you look at him?” She shook her head and settled her hands on Quinn’s shoulders, giving her the Steph-psychologist stare-down. “You’ve only known him a few days, and you’re in deep. Too deep. You haven’t had a real relationship before. Have gone on no more than two dates with any guy. And now him? This? There are so many red flags, I don’t know which one to start with.”

Clenching her jaw, Quinn swallowed the angry embers sparking up her throat. “The only reason I never went on more than two dates was because, unlike you, I know exactly what I want and I won’t settle for less.”

The only sign Steph was offended was a slight thinning of her lips. “We’re not talking about me here. And for the record, I know what I want, and unlike you, I know how hard relationships are, and that they’re not worth all the crap that goes with them. And that guy back there?” She hooked a finger over her shoulder. “He’s standing on a whole mountain of it.”

“You met him for two minutes.” Quinn shrugged off Stephanie’s hands. “You’re good, but you’re not that good, and when it comes to psychoanalyzing your own life, you suck. You chase after Isaac because you know he’s unavailable, that you can flirt with him all day long without any chance that he might just take you up on it someday. Well, you know what? I hope he does. I hope someday he turns the tables on you and chases you down until you admit that while some relationships can break your heart, others might mend it.”

Shockingly, Stephanie’s face paled a shade, and her eyes flashed some sharp emotion. “Fine. Do what you want. My intentions were good and only meant to help you.” She headed for the door, her heels beating an angry cadence on the concrete. “Just so you know,” she called over her shoulder, “I plan to check on you regularly because I love you, not to rub it in your face when he destroys you.”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Quinn in an echoing silence that rang through her heart. As much as she wanted to scream at Stephanie’s back, she couldn’t deny a ton of roadblocks barred the path to a forever with Zaire, starting with the detour sign on his forehead. And as sure as she knew that, she also understood another truth: Zaire belonged to her, and somehow, someway, she’d prove it to everyone.

Prove it to him.