Authors: Poppet
“
Ryan,” I wheeze, trying to break his grip. “We have to tell Zauran first.”
The grip intensifies so much that I'm blasted with the agony of my vertebrae separating.
Ngaaaaah!
Chapter 15
Zaria:
It's with dread that I look around my home, drinking in every detail, absorbing smells and lingering scents as if trying to locate a visitor by odor.
It's become a habit, borne of my training with Jowendrhan and Venix.
None of this would have happened if Venix was still here. Why the heck did he have to find redemption when this world needs him to help maintain the balance?
Damn it all!
Stomping to the bathroom of my small home, I need to brush my teeth. I'm grateful I didn't decide to move in with Darise or this morning would be Hell boot camp, level one.
It's still early and I have time to pop out and get myself coffee,
and
ask Seithe to bring Phoebe over. I don't trust phones now, I'm feeling completely paranoid.
Morning sunlight makes the bathroom milky light, and I'm struck by my image in the mirror. Wow! I look phenomenal.
Sneaking closer, I automatically check the place where Zauran bit me. It looks like a tiny mark made up of an aqua circle with a dark dot in the middle in the same color.
Jeez, Jo made it sound like I had a fat welt from a brand the size of his fist on the side of my neck.
This looks like it could be henna, decoration, nothing significant or obvious at all. Satisfied, I set to brushing my teeth. Urgency is riding me over Phoebe's safety. Darise and his philandering bullshit can wait.
I swivel as I look at my reflection, running a tender hand over my flat stomach, wondering if there really are two little babies waiting in there now. Lifting his shirt, I press it to my cheek, really missing that morning hug and kiss from Zauran, The Magnificent.
I should phone him too.
Spitting and rinsing, I storm out of the bathroom, straight to the phone. My cell phone is still at his house, with my car!
“
Hey babes,” I say, when he answers on the first ring.
“
Zaria! Thank god! Where are you? Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Is Jo with you?–”
“
Slow down,” I laugh at his obvious panic. “I'm at home. I'm about to head out to get myself some coffee. I'm fine. No one hurt me. But we're going to have to make a plan because you have my phone and my car.”
“
I miss you! Fuck, I could gut the little shit for what he did.”
“
Can I call you when I get home? You can come and rescue me so I don't have to see Darise at all today,” I say.
“
Oh shit, yeah. Are you regretting last night then?”
“
No! Not at all, not even a little bit. In fact I may have to keep this shirt of yours forever and ever to remind me of the night you turned my world inside out.”
“
Which shirt are you wearing?” he laughs, low and sexy.
“
It's charcoal with a skull on the front, with two glowing green eyes.”
“
Oh I don't know, petal. I think I look a lot hotter in that shirt than you ever will.”
His laugh is scandalous as it floats into my ear and tingles my toes, licking moisture across my sex and sending a dark craving up inside me.
“
I'm horny.” I slam my hand over my mouth, horrified I just said that! My cheeks immediately burn with shame. I can't get the image of him naked and all over me out of my head.
“
Get your coffee and let me fetch you. I can alleviate that horniness in t-minus five minutes,” he purrs.
“
I, uh, need to see someone first.”
“
Who?” His tone is immediately tense and territorial.
“
Phoebe.” For some reason admitting this makes my hands tremble.
“
How long do you need? Where should I pick you up from?”
“
I'll be going to Greenet and hopefully meeting up with her at Depo. I need people around me right now. I'm feeling weirdly jumpy.”
“
Sveta and Aisyx have a lot to answer for. Well use a phone where you girls go to chat, or use her cell phone, and I'll collect you both. This is my turf and it's my job to protect both of you.”
Aw, I love this man!
“
Okay,” I nod.
“
See you soon, petal. Take care of my babies and my babe for me.”
It makes me instinctively run my hand across my belly again, the aching gnaw of desire increasing.
“
I love you,” I whisper, staring out the window at rooftops, wishing he could catch my words on the wind.
“
I love you too. Now hurry up with your agenda so I can hold you again.” A beep interrupts us. “I have a call coming through on the other line, hang on...”
I listen to nothingness, nerves slowly rising in tension while I wait.
Click, “Zaria, it's Sveta on the other line and I have to take this call. Call me asap, okay?”
“
Okay.” I nod. “Bye.”
He gives me a big smooch sound as an answer and then the line goes dead.
Time to get dressed and phone Phoebe.
I love my corner of Belgrade. I live in the hubbub of activity which thrives like a hive of active bees at certain times of the day; like right now.
It's one of my rituals to spoil myself at least three times a week with kafu from a coffee house right around the corner from where I live in Vračar. It's an indulgence, a luxury, but it gives me a reason to mingle and appreciate men and women dressed for business, looking efficient; well presented mannequins of thriving modern life.
Walking out of Greenet Caffe on Bulevar Kralja Aleksandra, I'm thawed just breathing in the steam from my café latte. It's an old habit to stick the drinking spout right under my nose to inhale the fragrant vapor, and it gives me a satisfied smile as I step out of the shop into the bracing breeze.
I love this time of day. The sun seems weak and the sky seems watery, as if even the morning isn't awake until it's been given a strong cup of java.
Wakey wakey world, it's after ten o'clock, time to shake off the shivers and crack open a can of Papagalos.
If I don't stop at Greenet I go to Costa Coffee in Svetozara Markovića Street. I love knowing I can walk to get really good coffee.
It's only a couple of blocks from where I live in
Knjeginje Zorke Street and an invigorating way to start a day. It reminds me of my old life, the one I left behind when I chose to work for Pravus as their merchandise buyer, giving up the day job for a life infiltrated with vampyre.
Smiling to myself, I look up and down the walkway for no reason other than to appreciate men in well pressed trousers, crisp white shirts, and shoes so polished you could use them for morse code to signal to the other side of the river.
With my cup firmly under my nose delivering hot aromatherapy direct to my sinuses, I watch broad shoulders and black hair walk away in a calf length cuddly looking cashmere coat the color of ink.
His walk is confident, sexy, capable.
Taking the first sip of coffee to sedate my smile, I rest against the wall with my shoulder to appreciate his hands hidden away deeply in his pockets, noting the length of his stride and the way the wind catches his hair as he pauses to look for oncoming traffic.
The tailored shoulders and the way the coat is snugly fitted over the impressive ratio from shoulder to waist is eye catching. A man in an expensive tailored ensemble is always delightful to observe.
I love people watching; I could do it for hours.
The wind is relentless, pushing his fringe into his eyes, and he lifts a defined jaw to flick it away, withdrawing a hand to sculpt his hair back to where it belongs.
His bone structure is just as sublime as his clothing and I'm drawn to the muscles and bones in that strong hand. Even from here I can see his nails are manicured and trimmed clean and square.
Noir eyes coated with mystery highlight ivory skin, deepening the red of his claret lips, and as if my stare is a magnet his gaze meets mine, directly.
Oh god. It's you!
Wow, he looks breathtakingly beautiful in the morning light.
It makes me recall his words inserted in my head that first night I met him:
No, overkill is when I rip my chest open to show you my scorched heart matches your shadow, and I'll always be that close to you.
He gives me a handsome smile, twisting so he faces me fully, clearly hearing my thoughts even at this distance.
Call me your guardian angel, I never stray far Zaria.
The rest of the pedestrian traffic fade out of my awareness while I'm stuck in his dark diabolical gaze.
With him smiling so benevolently at me, it warms the cold toes in my suede pixie boots.
Why?
I think back to him.
Ryan why are you watching me? Stalking me?
Oh god! Is he? Stalking me I mean. Crikey,
why
?
His focus remains fixed on me as he comes striding back, and this time I notice the ladies rubbernecking him.
He appears completely oblivious to the attention as his footfalls cross paving to bring him back to where I lurch against a cold facade.
Why
am
I lurking here? Cripes, I was perving at Ryan; that's just wrong on way too many levels. I'm pregnant with his brother's babies for frig's sake.
“
Zari...”
I put my hand over his mouth. “Don't ruin it.”
His eyebrows arch in question, his gaze hardening on me and chilling my bones.
Refusing to speak, I say telepathically,
Sometimes a woman appreciates looking. It's better to leave it at that than to engage in conversation. We'd rather think you're perfect than have you open your mouth and shatter that illusion.
I nod at him, remove my hand, and turn to walk back the other way.
Zaria!
Pausing, I swivel back to face him with the wind whisking my hair up around me.
No one's perfect, sweetheart.
He says it with a nasty smile.
Gripping the coffees for warmth, I nod
. I know. I once held a man in high esteem for his creative genius. I figured he had to be slightly demented to be so creative and so damn good at it. It bothered me that his left brain-right brain dominance seemed equally matched, his words and art made too much sense to make him purely a creative genius. When I had the chance to speak to him I walked straight past and didn't even acknowledge him. I'd rather live with the idea, than know the truth.
We have a visual clash in the windy road, until I can take the tension no longer and turn to keep walking. I'm meeting Phoebe to talk about the danger circling us, and have to get out of here, away from Ryan. If Ryan sees her the shit is definitely going to be hitting the proverbial fan.
The strength of his stare prickles my spine all the way up the incline, until I turn the corner just to hide behind the wall and sag, taking exaggerated breaths to calm my panic.
*
Ryan:
I wait for her to think she's lost me, and then continue shadowing her.
So much for blending in wearing business gear.
*
Zauran:
Crawling awareness hits me at the last minute. Twisting from the broken oil valve, the glint of light catches my attention just before impact.
Lifting my hands defensively against attack, metal connects with my face, blasting me backwards into the classic, my jaw crunching and exploding with agony to the soundtrack of black paint scraping on concrete.
Fuck!
My assailant doesn't give me time to move, to assess damage, to get off my fucked up bike with my now mangled face.
Metal connects with my head again, slamming brutally into me, the force is enough to wipe my vision of an enormous shadow with the stench of my blood.
I can't breathe.
Rolling, gasping, I need air.
Black dances maniacally across my view, hindering my defense while my ears sing from the distinctive thunk of metal on bone.
I've had my nose broken before and I'm pissed it just happened again; it's gushing torrents of blood all over me. The adrenaline coursing through me is too late to be effective when he viciously hammers me to the point of blacking out, cracking the back of my head in.
Breathing in the dust on the garage floor, I have blood soaking my teeth; every heartbeat pounding agony across my skull and cheekbones.