15. Zane
Zane
I’m hanging string lights in the rafters of the ancient church when I hear a roaring engine tear down the Morningstar driveway, kicking up dust and rocks without a second thought.
Peering out the hole in the roof, I damn near fall off my ladder as Kane swings his leg over the seat of his motorcycle and bounds up Mercy’s front porch steps.
I’ve told him to sell that thing a dozen times, but he refuses to listen, citing that he’s here for a good time, not a long time.
He’s going to send me to an early grave before he’s even dead.
Sighing, I abandon my task and descend the rungs of the ladder, making it outside the church just in time to witness Kane present a bouquet of roses to Mercy. From my vantage point through her window, it’s hard to discern her reaction, but Kane’s smile is pinched.
Something is bothering him.
They spend an exorbitant amount of time in her bedroom before he picks her up, tosses her over his shoulder, and bounds down the stairs and out of the house.
“Zane!” He’s back to grinning as he smacks Mercy’s ass atop his shoulder. She yelps like a dog and slams her knee into Kane’s collarbone. “You’re just in time for our date.”
Date?
Dropping her onto his bike seat, he grabs the spare helmet and gently pulls it over the top of her head, then snaps it in place. “Hold onto me,” he instructs, “and lean into the turns.”
Mercy slams her hands against Kane’s chest. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” Her gaze flicks from Kane’s face to mine, and I catch a glimmer of fear in her eyes. “I—I already have a date.”
Don’t you dare?—
“With Zane.” Forcing a smile, she uses Kane’s stunned silence to slip from his grasp.
“He agreed to go out with me and Sam tonight.” She unsnaps her helmet and tosses it to the ground at Kane’s feet before coming to stand beside me.
Resting her forearm on my shoulder, she tosses her curtain of hair over her shoulder. “Sorry, you weren’t invited.”
“She’s—she’s lying!” I sputter, alarm bells ringing in my head. “I never agreed to go out with her!”
If Kane gets jealous, I’m fucked. Royally fucked. In the ass. With no lube. Torn right down the middle of my cra?—
“Zanie,” Mercy whines childishly, frowning a little too dramatically to be taken seriously.
“I know you’re shy, but you don’t need to lie.
What we have is real.” She takes my hand and links our fingers together, smiling cheekily at Kane as he finally turns around.
“The least you can do is take me to dinner now that we’ve been to third base. ”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Kane’s a little too relaxed, his smile matching Mercy’s. Fake as hell. “Alright, beautiful. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you go out with both of us, and we’ll decide who gets to take you to home plate over dinner.”
No, no, no!
“I’m not sleeping with her!”
Neither of them is listening, too content with grinning viciously at each other to pay any attention to me. Like wolves, they size each other up like they’re eying pieces of meat and neither of them has had a meal in weeks.
Kane has spent the past three days ignoring Mercy, and now, all of a sudden, he shows up with roses and demands for a date?
“You saw the video feed,” I surmise, pressing my lips together into a firm line.
The fucker gets off on breaking through my security measures and gloating about it.
I’m surprised it took him this long to show his hand.
“Bingo.”
Mercy’s the only one out of the loop. “What video feed?”
“The one that Zane set up in your bedroom.” He not-so-subtly adjusts his growing hard-on. “It’s how I knew you were fingering that needy pussy last night.” Licking his lips, his gaze travels down her body. “Does she still need attention?”
She flushes bright pink and averts her gaze.
What the hell did I miss last night?
“Take me to dinner,” she says after a moment, “and we’ll discuss who’s having dessert.”
Kane’s eyes flash dangerously. “Yes, ma’am.”
“But I want Zane to drive me.”
The grin on Kane’s face disappears. “Don’t play with my heart, Siren, or you’ll have to pick up the pieces when it breaks.”
Biting her lip, Mercy glances at Kane’s motorcycle. “I’m, um, scared to ride one of those.”
“All the more reason to give her a spin.” Kane picks up the discarded helmet and moves to put it on Mercy’s head, but before he can succeed, I grab her hand and pull her into my side. The way Kane’s face falls cracks my heart into pieces.
“Can’t ruin her hair and makeup before we’ve had a chance to enjoy it,” I explain lamely, wrapping my arm around her waist. “I’ll take her to Lucio’s. Meet us there?”
Kane glances between the two of us before stiffly nodding.
“Fine. But when dinner’s over, she’s riding with me.
” Stepping into our personal space, he places his left hand directly over mine on Mercy’s waist and the other on my hip.
He pecks her cheek before turning his face towards mine and doing the same, tenderly pressing his lips against my cheekbone.
Warmth radiates from that simple point of contact, and when Kane pulls back, I know that I’m blushing just as much as Mercy is.
Shit.
Why the hell would he do that?
He meets my eyes for the briefest moment before turning and walking back to his motorcycle. Once he’s slung his leg over the side and adjusted the kickstand, he revs the engine and speeds back up the driveway, tearing a rut into the gravel.
Mercy drops the act as soon as Kane’s out of sight, and we separate immediately. “Where’s your car?”
“I’m not going on a date with you,” I growl, feeling frustrated and confused and?—
“You don’t have a choice.” She swings her arm out towards the road. “Kane’s going to be waiting for us. Do you really want to stand him up?”
“Why the hell are you insisting on this fucking date?” Regardless of the reason—even if it is simply picking our brains like she claims—it’s a waste of fucking time.
Glaring at her, I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not dressed for dinner at Lucio’s.
I won’t make it through the door.” The cobwebs and dust sticking to my sweatpants sure don’t scream fine dining.
Rolling her eyes, she grabs my wrist and drags me inside her house and across the main floor to her father’s closet.
His clothes are vintage and well-loved, but we manage to find a dress shirt that’s only a few sizes too large and a pair of slacks that I don’t have to suck my gut in to fit. “There. Now you’re dressed.”
I curl my lip in the bathroom mirror. “I look like a goddamn renaissance man.” Now that the shirt is buttoned, I realize the sleeves have ruffled cuffs. Un-fucking-believable. While I tear off the frill with my bare hands, Mercy steals a pair of her father’s shoes and sets them down in front of me.
“Hurry up.”
I don’t know why, but her tone pisses me off.
Grabbing her hair as she tries to walk away, I pull her into my arms, spinning us until we’re both facing the mirror.
Her makeup is flawless, but her dark locks fan out across her face and catch on her scarlet lips.
The dress cuts over her knees and hugs her body like a glove, accentuating her curves.
She’s pretty when she dresses up, I’ll give her that.
I brush the hair from her eyes and open my mouth, but a door behind us slams. I cover her mouth and listen as heavy footsteps pound up the stairs, lingering for only a moment before they storm back down and out the front door.
“Expecting company?” Our eyes meet in the mirror, and she tries to wiggle free.
Holding her tighter against my chest, I tsk-tsk .
“You weren’t waiting for Kane, were you? ”
Part of me thought that they had set this up to force me on a date with them, but Kane seemed surprised to see me.
He would have carried Mercy off like a caveman claiming his mate.
I bet he’d intended to rut her into the dirt, too, on a cliff somewhere or against the rough bark of an evergreen, ripping her dress from her body in his haste to get inside of her.
He might pretend to be a gentleman, but when his patience has worn out and a target’s time is up, he turns into an untamed beast. Scaring them.
Fucking them. Making them scream themselves hoarse.
“You’re lucky I stopped him from taking you,” I tell Mercy, speaking honestly.
“If he gets his claws in you—” I drag my fingernails across Mercy’s throat, enjoying the way she flinches.
Red scratch marks slice across her porcelain throat. “You’ll be begging him to stop.”
Mercy glares at me and opens her mouth.
I prepare myself for her muffled screams.
She bites down on my palm hard enough that I yell, quickly shoving her away from me. “Fucking bitch! ” My hand throbs as she truly screams, running from the room before I can grab her.
“Sam!”
I follow her trail, catching up to her as she passes through the front door.
Tackling her on the stairs, we slam into the grass, one on top of the other.
My bones rattle as she kicks my ribs with her combat boot and tries to scramble away, aiming her next kick at my face.
I dodge, growling as I grab her calf and drag her body back to mine.
“You stupid bitch!” A laugh cracks in my chest. “ God , I should have killed you that night. Then this whole thing would be over!”
“Get off of me!”
Using my body weight to my advantage, I grapple her and lock her head in a chokehold. “He wants you.” My chest heaves as I hold her in submission. “God knows why.” The truth grates on my nerves like a nail file, tearing my flesh open after so long spent in denial.
Mercy is a beautiful woman. Her eyes hold the warmth of the setting sun, and her skin—I press my cheek against hers—is softer than velvet.
Wrapping my legs around her ankles, I hold on until she whimpers, the fight draining from her body.
But it’s more than her appearance that draws Kane in—it’s the way she sits at her desk for hours, staring out the window long after the sun sets, a forgotten pencil tucked between her fingers.
The lingering loneliness on her bedroom walls.
Not a single picture frame hangs on nails or sits on a shelf, like she doesn’t have a single memory worth keeping.
How she sings to the dead in a mausoleum on Halloween night, unafraid of the spirits she summons with her voice.
Kane is the most observant man I know. He’ll take one glance at a person and pinpoint their core wounds in the span of a few heartbeats. It’s how he picks his targets. They make perfect art pieces because of how much weight they carry on their backs.
If I ruin Mercy before Kane has a chance to paint her, I destroy his only outlet for all of the feelings he can’t contain within his body. They’ll spill over, and we’ll backslide into even worse habits at a breakneck pace. It’ll break him from the inside out.
But watching him obsess over this girl is breaking me .
I thought I could lessen the blow by taking away the pieces of her that appeal to Kane the most. All of the shiny new experiences she has yet to have call to him like the sweetest song.
I could claim them one by one until there aren’t any left for him.
Then, he’ll realize that she’s nothing special, and we can move on with our lives.
I’d thought that Sam would have handled the physical parts by now, but it seems like lover boy has dropped the ball. He’s moving so slowly that he’s inadvertently making room for Kane to steal Mercy’s firsts.
“Shhh.” Tightening the headlock, I wait for her body to slump.
As soon as she’s unconscious, I lie on my back on the grass and stare up at the darkening night sky.
The closer we move to winter, the shorter the days are, and tonight feels especially dark.
I catch my breath and ignore the aches in my body, but a light breeze flutters the ends of Mercy’s hair across my arm, and her head suddenly lolls onto my bicep.
I stare at her smudged lipstick, then the gentle slope of her nose, the thick scratch of brows over her eyes, the bright red scrape along her hairline.
I hate how goddamn pretty she is.
I hate how inadequate she makes me feel.
I hate how I curl my body into hers and weep for all the things I can’t control.
The ghost of her breath tickling my cheek.
The curl of her fingers in my shirt.
The way she doesn’t leave even though she should.