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I set the glass down gently.
“Curiosity cures ignorance. It could save your life.”
The knife is in my grasp before he registers the movement. I drive it through the back of his hand and into the wood beneath it. A raw scream shreds the music, and he stares at his hand as if it belongs to a corpse. People look over, then lower their eyes, suddenly committed to minding their own business.
This is what touching her costs.
By the time Reese appears at my side, there’s a puddle of blood around Diego’s hand, but he’s too much of a pussy to set himself free.
Reese glances at our fellow Serpent before stepping between us. “Michael tried to talk to Zaiya on the way out.”
I’m on my feet instantly. “Is she safe?”
“She’s fine. She wanted to leave so Marcus took her home. Michael left pretty fast.”
Guilt shoves relief aside. I left her exposed long enough for one man to lay hands on her and another to follow her.
Unacceptable.
Caring for someone keeps teaching me lessons I never wanted.
I wrench the blade free from Diego’s hand, wipe it clean, and leave Reese to handle my mess.
When I reach the Bolton house, the night has deepened into silence.
I stand at Zaiya’s window, concealed by shadow. A thin slice of light shows between her curtains, enough for me to see everything.
Inside, Zaiya moves through her room in a pale nightgown, soft and half-glowing in the lamplight. She looks like she did that first night in the cemetery. Unreal. Too fragile for the world that keeps closing around her.
She sits on the bed and opens her nightstand drawer. My heart beats a little faster when she takes out my Serpent’s Head.
Her thumb traces the engraved curve again and again as if the answers might rise through the metal. The Order promised her revenge. Now that same institution will demand pieces of her in return. Pieces I intend to guard, even if it means breaking her to do it.
I watch her turn the medallion over in her hand, and I know what must happen.
Diego proved what the Order sees when they look at her. Someone untouched and inexperienced enough to manipulate. As long as she stays in this fucking house, I can’t be beside her every second.
She puts the medallion away and turns off the lamp.
Darkness claims the room, broken only by moonlight washing through the white curtains.
A kinder man would leave. Let her sleep and have one final quiet night before everything changes.
Instead, I lift the screen slowly until it gives without a sound.
My boots hit the floor heavily. I make no attempt to hide what I am. The old portrait of Jesus watches from the wall in faded browns and golds, solemn and useless.
At the side of her bed, I look over her peaceful body. It doesn’t stop me from taking the blanket and pulling it down. Each glimpse of exposed skin reminds me of Diego’s hands on her.
Zaiya stirs but doesn’t wake.
Her heavy tits rise and fall gently, tempting my mouth. My hand grazes her thigh, lifting the hem of her gown until white panties peek into view.
The painful strain of my cock against my pants is something to revel in. My balls are heavy with the urge to fill her.
Every time I’ve made her cum, resisting the urge to hold her down and fuck her flooded pussy has tested every ounce of restraint I have. I’ve been dying to have her blood on my cock.
Tonight, I stop resisting it.
