Zach madehis way into the small Italian restaurant and asked for a table at the back. The walls were exposed red brick, huge wine racks were filled with rows of gleaming bottles, the tables were spread with white cloths, and the silver cutlery glowed in the flickering candlelight. Even the Shadows in the room felt warm and inviting, echoing with soft laughter and shot through with a haze of desire, the slowly building heat of skin touching skin and flirty innuendo.
Fuck. He pushed the Shadows away and dragged his hand over his eyes to clear them. It was too romantic, but he hadn’t been thinking of that when he chose it. He’d seen it when he’d explored the town and it was simply the first place he’d thought of. He’d always loved Italian food, and so had Emma.
It was a mistake to bring her here—colliding his past memories with this new reality—especially with his Shadows continually searching for Emma. The instant he’d realized who she was to him, his Shadows had gone insane. It took all his concentration just to get them under control, forcing them down again and again.
His Shadows wanted her, but his Shadows were wrong.
Even if he wanted that kind of connection—and after seeing what had become of his father that was a very bigif—there was no way he could ever open himself to someone who worked with blood Shadows. Emma would never be his. All he would have after this was the reassurance that he had saved his friends and a long, lonely life ahead.
The door opened, and there she was. God, she was beautiful. Her hair fell in loose waves, somehow even silkier than before. The turquoise-blue of her blouse set off the strawberry-blonde against her lightly tanned skin and, for a moment, he imagined running his hand down her cheek onto her neck and pulling her closer. His Shadows swarmed up inside him, reaching desperately for Emma. But she didn’t even blink, she simply hadn’t seen them. Hell. He had to remember why touching her was such a truly horrendous idea. He had to remember to be very, very careful.
His heart, his Shadows, his head, and his gut were at war. His heart wanted his friend back. His Shadows wanted this woman, with her vibrant smile and her air of graceful competence. His head reminded him that she was riddled in blood Shadows, Gordon’s daughter, and guaranteed to be deeply entrenched within Oracle. His gut just hurt.
There was no escape, not until he had something concrete he could use. So Zach did the only thing he could—the one thing the deaths of his mother and sister had taught him—he shoved the confusing mass of painful feelings down and away, and focused on presenting a calm, polite exterior. His entire purpose was to protect his friends. That was all that mattered. However much his heart and Shadows complained, he simply couldn’t risk another betrayal.
Zach stood as Emma reached the table. She smiled brightly as she greeted him, full of the same joy and life he’d noticed when she was in her bakery. She hesitated for a second and he wondered if he should kiss her cheek. Half of him was desperate to do it, but the other half was desperate not to. Caution won and he covered his hesitation by pulling her chair out instead. It was better not to touch her unless he absolutely had to.
Even this dinner was skating close to the line, but hopefully it would be worth it. Hopefully, he would learn something helpful. Maybe he could even follow her afterward and learn where she lived so he could search her house the next time she was at work.
Emma lowered herself into the seat and looked around curiously. “This is lovely.”
“You haven’t been before?”
She shrugged, but her smile seemed slightly less certain. “I don’t go out that much.”
Zach’s Shadows swirled, reaching out, wanting to soothe her. But he hauled them back under control and settled himself into his seat. She had chosen a side already, and it wasn’t his. If she was having visions and reporting to Gordon on top of the hours she worked, of course she didn’t get out much.
“What do you do when you’re not working?” he asked.
“My bakery really is my life. I work six days a week. I go in before five o’clock most mornings and I stay late to prep for the next day. It doesn’t leave much room for anything else, but I like to get out onto the water to swim or paddleboard when I can. In summer when the days are long, I try to get down to the beach after work.”
Zach frowned, that irritating protective flare momentarily overruling his need to get her talking about Gordon. “But you have help, don’t you? I saw other staff in the bakery. Couldn’t you arrange the schedule to give yourself a break?” She worked sixteen-hour days, six days a week and her staff schedule showed that she hadn’t had a holiday. Ever. It was too much. Even he took more time off, and that was saying something.
Emma nodded as she selected a soft, floured roll from the basket in the middle of the table. “I have Becky now, thank God. And a couple of students to help out during the summer season.” She smiled across at him, eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “When I first opened, I was doing it all myself. Those were truly long days. It makes me so grateful for the help I’ve got now.”
He knew. He’d seen her files. But it still didn’t make any sense. Gordon was a lot of things but hurting for money wasn’t one of them. “And your family? They don’t help at all?”
Emma snorted, but the sound was not amused. She sounded resigned and her smile had slipped away. “My mother died when I was eleven and my father... let’s just say we don’t get along.”
What the hell did that even mean? Zach needed to know. But what would be an acceptable question? What would someone say in this situation?
“How about you?” Emma asked before he could frame a sensible reply. “What are your hobbies?”
Zach blinked, searching for an answer. When last had he done anything other than his work for the Council, his Guardian duties, work out in the basement gym in Highgate, or spend time with his triad? He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had dinner with someone who wasn’t Kay or James. His life had been wrapped up in his work for the Council and his dreams of making a real difference in the Order. But he’d abandoned it all when James got hurt. He’d walked away from everything he’d achieved because he couldn’t trust it anymore.
His shoulders tightened, all thoughts of how pretty Emma was, of how hard she worked, falling away. She’d reminded him that he was alone with nothing to show for his life. Worse than that, she’d reminded him that on top of everything he’d already lost, she’d now robbed him of the chance of ever finding someone whose Shadows matched his. Someone who wasn’t a traitor to the Order and to everyone he cared for. But he couldn’t tell her any of that.
The waiter arrived and Zach took the chance to calm himself as they ordered their drinks—beer for him, a glass of Chianti for Emma. By the time they were alone again, he had his thoughts back under control, his smile back in place, and a sensible answer. “I surf, sometimes. And swim.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “In London?”
Hell. This was exactly why he hated lying. He shook his head. “No, I meant when I was in Wales.”
“Do you go back often?”
He grunted. “Sometimes.”
Emma watched him, clearly waiting for him to say more, but then their drinks arrived, saving him once again. Zach took a small sip of his lager. He didn’t bother with the menu since he already knew what he was having, and he needed to concentrate. This wasn’t like him, this confusion, these silly mistakes, and he couldn’t allow it.
