Chapter 39 #2
I slow beside him, and he cuts me a sidelong glare through his veil before he tips back the shot given to him. He fits here. I know he doesn’t think he does. He thinks I’m the one who’s found a home here, while he’s remained on the outskirts. But he couldn’t be more wrong.
His strength, his courage, the way he’s able to harden himself to do what’s necessary—no matter what that looks like.
Those are the things that help him fit here so effortlessly, what has made him blossom in such an environment and allowed me to see a side of him I’ve never known before.
A side that has me falling even harder for him.
And it’s exactly what I’m incapable of doing.
I proved that last night, when I couldn’t even keep it together long enough to ensure Evangeline was truly okay.
To take care of her in the aftermath of her turning.
Instead, I’d left her in the hands of others when my own shortcomings reared their ugly heads.
I’d run away to Zeke and expected him to catch me, like I always do.
To hold me while I fell apart and piece me back together after.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” The words are sultry as they slip past my lips.
Zeke pauses, glass frozen midair as his head turns, his veiled eyes no doubt searching to find mine.
“I’m serious.” I force out a laugh, taking a couple steps and turning around to face him as I continue walking backwards.
“You, under the lights of the Market Ebon, in the Blood Order, with that veil over your face and that cut on your back? It suits you.”
Zeke scoffs, handing the glass back to the vendor and pushing past me. “Knock it off, Sterling. You’re not nearly as funny as you think.”
“Who says I’m joking?” I ask, spinning around easily and matching his stride. Our shift is nearly over now and I’m itching to grab him and dash into the throngs of heavy music drifting from Bloodlust just ahead. “Can’t a male appreciate another male’s beauty without getting the third degree?”
“Not when that male is lying out of his ass about the other male’s beauty.
And not when that male has failed to make up for his wrongdoings this morning.
” He says the words with bite, spoken through a clenched jaw.
“I am many things, Sterling. But beautiful is not one of them.” He slows his stride as his gaze sets on the same location mine had moments ago.
He knows our shift is over just as much as I do.
Which means he’s come to the same realization I have—that we have the rest of Esbat to indulge in whatever pleasures we desire.
I wrap my fingers around his forearm and pull him into the back alley of the bar.
“I’m not lying, Ezekiel.” I lean back against the brick wall, pulling him into me.
I don’t kiss him, not yet. Instead I pull my veil up and run my nose over the outline of his neck, through the stubble on his chin, and up the edge of his veil until I finally land at his ear.
“You are beautiful. Something about this place has let you rest, let you be you and not just my protector.” I nip playfully at his earlobe.
“And I am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that of you this morning.
I only wish . . .” I trail off, swallowing around the lump that has suddenly formed in my throat.
“I only wish I could be better for you.”
Zeke pushes me back, a firm hand on my chest as he tilts his head and takes me in.
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” There’s a hint of anger in his voice, but I know it’s not directed towards me.
Maybe in some ways it is, but his anger is for the parts of me that only live to tear me down, the parts that whisper darkness, threatening to drag me under once again.
I give my head a shake, pushing that darkness down and offering him a saccharine smile. “Only that I envy your strength, Zeke. That I admire your ability to move on from everything we’ve been through. It’s . . . beautiful.” I shrug on the last word, unable to explain it in any other way.
Zeke exhales through his nostrils, his jaw wound tight. I can tell there’s something he’s wrestling with, something he’s trying to smother rather than let see the light of day.
He doesn’t need to say it . I know how he feels.
The way he longs to protect me, even now that we're within the safety of Requiesse, under Andras’ asylum.
The way he won’t allow himself to fully be mine, like there’s always something holding him back.
The way he doesn’t believe a word of what I just said—that he’s thriving here, far better than me.
He refuses to see his own beauty, to understand his own worth, no matter how hard I try to get through to him.
But I suppose we have that in common. Perhaps that’s what draws us to one another, an eternal battle to convince the other of what we see in the other.
“Kiss me.” I offer a distraction in the only way I know how, with my body. If he’s not ready to voice those feelings, then I won’t be the one to push him.
Zeke hesitates a moment, still battling with whatever thoughts are waging war inside his mind. But it’s only a moment and then he’s leaning in, lifting his own veil off his face and allowing his lips to tease softly at mine.
What we have with each other is something I can’t quite explain. It’s not a relationship, not really. But no one knows how to watch me fall apart and piece me back together like Zeke. No one knows how to hold me, dominate me, love me, and see me quite like Ezekiel.
His tongue parts my lips and he deepens the kiss, his hands finally wrapping around me.
One hand pulls at the tresses falling against my neck, leaning my head back so he has better access as he fully claims my mouth.
His other hand wraps around the small of my back and his palm flattens against my ass.
But the denim of my jeans is stiff and I can tell it’s not enough to satiate his hunger.
I smile against his lips, and before he can protest, I back us through the alleyway and into the back entrance of Bloodlust.
We navigate the backroom effortlessly, not even breaking away from the kiss to slip past the curtain and into the hallway bathed in red light.
I pull back, turning to face the crowd of writhing bodies as we pick our way through.
Zeke’s pressed against my back, lips on my neck and hands on my hips to hold me against his hard length.
I let my head lob back, falling on his shoulder as he sucks rather forcefully on my pulse point.
It’s intoxicating, when he allows himself to touch me so freely.
And I find myself desperate to find a room for us to occupy so we can take this further.
On any other day, I’d be more than happy to take him right here in the hall for anyone to see. But I know I have a lot to make up for after this morning. I want him alone, without an audience, because I plan to submit myself completely to him. And I don’t want onlookers when I issue my apology.
I pull my head back up, prying my eyes open to see which of the red rooms are currently available for our taking.
My eyes drift over the dark, crimson space, over tangled bodies moving in rhythm to the thrumming music pouring in from the bar beyond.
It’s crowded tonight, as to be expected.
And faces blend together into meaningless blurs as Zeke’s hands explore more of my body, reaching around and caressing the now rather apparent bulge in the front of my jeans.
My breath hitches as my eyes catch on one familiar face in the crowd.
Then two. Then three. Evangeline’s eyes find mine in the packed hall and we're enveloped in one another’s existence for the briefest of moments.
It’s like heaven, if such a place exists.
The world around me melts away and even Zeke’s touches disappear to a distant hum as everything is drowned out by the feel of her honeyed eyes on mine.
But too much too soon, Aamon and Quinn are pulling her into a room and shutting me out, cutting us off. I let loose a breath, stumbling backwards into Zeke, who’s stopped touching me altogether.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he snarls into my ear.
And I expect him to bite down on my neck, to slap my ass.
Some sort of reprimand for my distraction to get us back on track.
But as I turn to look at him, he’s nothing more than hardened disdain.
His arms are folded over his chest, jaw tighter than ever before.
There’s rage in his eyes, a kind I know I won’t be able to nullify tonight.
“Ezekiel.” I start forward, reaching out a hand to reassure him that I want this. Want him. But even as I do so, even as he retreats a step to keep out of reach, my mind can only focus on what they're doing to Evangeline behind that door. And how badly I want to be part of it.