My entire body ignites.
I let my head fall back onto his chest as he palms the base of my neck. That simple touch holds so much power over me it’s concerning. I’m glued to him, feeling parts of him I never have before—our movements slow, sensual. His free hand glides up my side, leaving little fires in its wake. I circle my hips deeper, grinding against him in the process.
“Serena,” he growls.
“Zadyn.” I intend to mimic his stern tone, but instead, it comes out like a breathy, need-filled plea.
Maybenotthe alcohol? Fuck, I really don’t know.
All I know is that I want him to do what he did to that female. I want his hands on me. His mouth.
I twist around, raking my nails down the nape of his neck and watching his eyes close. Another swirl of our hips has his length nudging against me, letting me know he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
But then I remember.
Zadyn is my familiar. My friend. Have I no self-control? He’ll do anything to please me, to make me happy. To go there with him would be taking advantage. I’d be abusing our bond.
I can’t do that. Because if I ask or push him the way I did at solstice, I don’t think he’ll deny me—even if it isn’t what he really wants.
He tugs me closer, and I fall into him, gripping his sturdy arms for support. I’m rummaging for the will to put some distance between us, but then his fingers slide into my hair, and my whole body aches for more. More of this side of him—this primal, dark hunger.
My breath becomes ragged as he leans his forehead against mine.
This will ruin your friendship, a tiny voice pipes from inside me.
But I want him.
DoI want him? Or do I just want to try him out? There’s a big difference. And Zadyn is the last person in this world that I would want to play games with. He deserves more.
My muscles lock as I push out of his grasp, shaking my head. He blinks, his expression clearing as he tries to read me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper before darting into the crowd.
What am I doing?
I’ve always known Zadyn was beautiful. It just never fazed me before. Never made my heart lodge in my throat, never made me nervous. But lately, I’ve become hyperaware of him.
So what? Maybe I have a little crush.
One day I’ll grow out of it, and in a decade we can look back and say, “Oh, remember when I wanted to eat your face and swallow you whole?”
It’ll definitely be worth a laugh. I think.
God, this is confusing. Not to mention everything that’s happened with Jace. My feelings for him haven’t just gone away. Knowing I can’t have him doesn’t stop me from wanting him in a way that physically hurts.
Why is it so hard for me to just let him go?
Our last conversation has haunted me since I left. Asking me to marry him like some Hail Mary had hurt. Just like it had two years ago when Jack asked me to marry him because he thought I was pregnant. And I had run from him too.
The symmetry of that is just too perfect. Too cruel.
But now is not the time for any of this. Now is not the time for mixed feelings and boy drama. For horny dancing and green drinks and indecisiveness. Now is the time for problem solving. For portal closing and serious hats and mustaches.
God, I’m drunk.
I weave through the crowd, not really sure where I’m going until a hand clamps around my wrist, pulling me to a stop.
“What’s wrong?”
