And for three weeks, Zack had remained fucking helpless.
He increased the treadmill speed.
Because no matter what Roger said, he was still human. He would always be weaker than vampires. Always frailer. He could train his body into peak physical form, and he’d have to rely on luck and Roger to get a fatal blow in on a vampire.
Roger didn’t need him.
Nobody did.
That’s not true, his practical voice proclaimed.
Isn’t it?the Cal voice replied.You’re a blip to him. You don’t matter to anybody.
That wasn’t how Roger treated him. Wasn’t how Takashi looked at him. Wasn’t how Blake spoke to him.
Zack pressed the button on the treadmill. He’d nearly missed it, but he got his hand on it and notched the speed up again. His lungs and legs were burning.
There wasn’t energy to think. He had to focus on putting one foot in front of another. Finally, he found some peace.
For a glorious minute, he was nothing but muscle and bone.
Then his right ankle gave out, and the world tilted. He slammed, left knee first, onto the treadmill and rocketed backward. Instinct kicked in, and he brought his arms up in time to protect his face, and then he hit the floor beyond the treadmill with a thud that went soul-deep.
“Holy shit!” Carver said. He rushed to Zack’s side.
Zack batted away Carver’s attempt to help him up and sat on his ass instead. With a glare and a deep sucking breath, he said, “I’mfine.”
Carver was dressed in those ridiculous tight bicycle shorts and a tank top that he’d worn to the yoga studio in Taliville all the time. He held up his hands and avoided Zack on his way to turn off the treadmill. Dryly, he said, “Yeah, you seem fine with a bleeding knee.”
Zack was taking stock of his injuries while Carver spoke and hated that Carver had noticed his hurts before he’d had a chance. His left knee was bright red but only bleeding a little, his right ankle was throbbing, and his arms ached from the workout and the fall. And with the adrenaline starting to wane, his left shoulder complained more.Every hunter has their battlewounds. And mine came from fighting my brother. What does that make me?
“I overdid it,” Zack said.
“You had this thing pushed up over eight miles an hour,” Carver said. “Overdoing it’s an understatement.”
“I don’t need any more crap thrown my way, all right!” Zack snapped.
Carver gave him a flat glare.
“Fuck off,” Zack said between gritted teeth. “I’m allowed to have a goddamn emotion!”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Where you’re angry and decide to lash out at me. I don’t know why you’re suddenly pissed off, but I know it’s not because I tried to help you get up from a fall. And if it is, thenyou’rethe one that can fuck off,” Carver said coolly.
And a terrible gnawing anger clawed its way up Zack’s throat, heading for his mouth. The trickle of pure rage slipped down from his mind and raced to meet it. But then he had a flash of his father. Thomas Wright was always patient. Because observation and waiting out the moment often led to greater clarity. With that thought, Zack seized control of his urge to spew a slew of vicious words.
Carver had a point. Zack was hurt and angry at the fucking world, but Carver hadn’t done anything worth becoming the focal point of the rage building in Zack’s soul.
“I think I’m done working out,” Zack said tersely.
“Thought I heard Roger and Takashi waking up.”
“I’ll go see.” Zack struggled to his feet. Though his knee ached, his ankle wasn’t reinjured, so he could walk. Whatever weakness had overcome the joint had passed.
“You know, it’s a little unfair,” Carver said, his tone off-handed as he stepped onto the treadmill and began a brisk walk pace.
