20. Zeke
Twenty
Zeke
I held Azzie’s blade in the light of the lamp above my forge worktable, tilting it this way and that, to catch the reflection at different angles. The grinds were done. If I ran the edge along my arm, it was sharp enough to shave off hairs. The only things left to do were enchant the steel and attach it to her grips.
Neither was a task that could be stopped in the middle and walked away from, so both would have to wait until tomorrow. Correction, later today. I had to squint through bleary eyes to see the clock on the far wall, but I was certain the numbers said it was after two in the morning.
I locked the blade away for the night.
When I was finished with the work, then what? We’d agreed to stick together, but it wasn’t as if she and her mysterious Berserker could move in. I didn’t have the space, and for all I knew they wouldn’t appreciate some of my clients.
The dull ache of eyestrain throbbed in my skull and pain spiked in my neck.
Questions to deal with in the morning. Possibly the early afternoon.
I stood and the world tilted, my forge swimming in front of my eyes. What the?—
Why did the side of my face hurt?
And my hand.
My head was killing me.
I forced open my eyes, despite the pounding protest in my skull.
Why was I laying in the dirt in the field behind my house?
As I pushed myself upright, I unclenched my hand. The joints in my fingers protested, and a series of raw stinging sensations bled over my palm as a stick fell to the ground.
My attention was on what was in front of me though—the soil was packed down, and vast lines decorated it. A sketch of some sort. Intricate and covering a space at least the size of two cars.
What the fuck? Did I draw that?
Images flashed in my mind, more like still snippets than movie. Me stumbling in this direction. Grabbing the closest drawing instrument I could find. Gouging the ground with the stick.
Yeah, apparently I drew that. But what was it?
The sky was gray now, rather than black, and a sliver of paler light sliced over the eastern horizon. How long was I out here?
Patting myself down, I found my phone in my front pocket. It was almost six in the morning. More than three hours were gone. The pain and the realization made my gut churn. I needed to get home.
I took several photos of the drawing, then erased it with my shoes. No one else should see that, though I couldn’t say why not.
At the house, I brushed off as much dirt as I could before I headed inside, and went directly to the sink in the kitchen to wash my hands. My palms were covered with cuts and scrapes. Most were superficial, but a few ran deep, and I was careful to pat those dry.
“Didn’t expect to see you up this early.” Azzie’s voice came from behind.
I spun to see her strolling into the room in a tank top with no bra, and men’s boxers that hung low on her hips and showed off long, toned legs.
If I wasn’t exhausted and out-of-sorts, I’d ask her if she wanted Round Two like the day we met. Orgasms were good for headaches, right? “I haven’t been to bed yet,” I said.
She huffed a laugh and moved further into the kitchen as I took a seat at the table.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Equal but opposite.”
Of course. Early bird meet night owl. “As in, I’m sane and you’re not?”
She scowled.
What did I say? “It was a joke.” I kept my tone light.
“I know.” Her smile was tight-lipped and didn’t reach her eyes. She turned away quickly, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water before downing the entire thing in a single swallow.
Okay . “Coffee is in the cupboard, if that’s your thing.” I hadn’t seen her yesterday morning, due to my schedule. I didn’t cross paths with her after I got up, and I’d spent most of the afternoon and night working, so I had no idea what kind of routine or preferences she had.
Except fast, frantic sex. I had a feeling she liked that.
“Coffee is definitely my thing.” She faced me again, any indication of a sour mood gone. “But it’s not my coffee.”
And…? Oh . “Is this some kind of equivalent exchange thing?”
“You’re already letting me stay here for free.”
Whatever donations people left for my work tended to cover room and board as well. Besides, I owned the place outright. “How about this—you make the coffee, and I’ll have some too. There. We’re even.”
She twisted her mouth, as if considering the proposal.
I understood the need for customs and respecting certain magics, but this felt like taking things too far. Then again, I didn’t blame her for not wanting to take without giving. “Unless your coffee making skills are worth more than that.”
“They’re not.” Azzie opened the cupboard I’d indicated, and grabbed the jar of ground beans. “In fact, you might regret asking. I like the spoon to stand up in my coffee.”
“Perfect.”
While she made coffee, I pulled my phone out again. I couldn’t help but stare at the photos. What did I draw? Nothing? I doubted that. I’d need to transfer the lines to paper and play with them some more to see if I could figure this puzzle out.
When Azzie set a coffee mug in front of me, she startled me for the second time this morning. I needed to sleep and shake off this feeling.
“Wasn’t sure how you take it,” she said. “What are you looking at?”
“He likes it sweet and creamy. Always.” Finn saved me by walking into the room. “Ooh, coffee.”
I pocketed my phone to hopefully avoid any further questions. How was I supposed to explain something I didn’t understand? “She’s charging for it.”
“If it’s better than diner coffee, I’ll pay for it.” Finn stopped next to Azzie.
“I am not charging for it,” she said.
“Woo-hoo.” He fist pumped. “Free sweet creaminess for everyone.”
I used to question if he was actually more than a thousand years old, but then I met other immortals and realized Finn was mature for his age.
“I’m not charging for the coffee, and I’m pretending I don’t understand the euphemism.” Azzie set milk and sugar on the table as well.
Finn grabbed his favorite mug from the cupboard—the one that said #1 Aunt —and got his own drink. “Do you think you’re fooling anyone?”
With a gasp, Azzie fluttered a hand to her chest and gave him a wide-eyed look. “I’m a sweet, innocent young lady.”
This was a good distraction from my headache.
“Uh-huh.” Finn didn’t sound convinced. “And you two were doing what within hours of meeting each other?”
“Talking blade smithing.” Azzie sipped her drink. “Okay, fine. Maybe not innocent, but still sweet.”
Finn blinked across the couple of feet between them without warming, wrapped an arm around her waist, and licked her neck.
“ Ugh .” Azzie grimaced and pulled away, while she wiped the wet spot with the back of her wrist. “What the fuck?”
Finn’s expression mirrored hers. “Not sweet. Definitely salty.”
I snorted in amusement.
“Is this doing anything for you?” Azzie fixed me with a look.
“It’s not turning me on, if that’s what you want to know. But it is hilarious.” Then again, I was sleep deprived.
“Whatever.” The irritation Azzie had earlier was gone, and she looked entertained as well. “Change of subject. Is there any issue with me using that field behind the house to stretch and work out a little?”
The morning flashed in my mind. Waking up there. Only having the vaguest notion of how I got there. “Nope. None at all.” I drained my coffee and pushed away from the table. “Enjoy. I’m going to bed.”
“Right after all that caffeine?” Azzie sounded surprised.
I rinsed out my mug and set it aside. “Helps me sleep. G’night.”
Finn grabbed me before I reached the bedroom, but after we were out of earshot of the kitchen. “I’m heading out for a few days."
“Anywhere fun?” I didn’t expect an answer, since he rarely gave me one.
Finn shook his head. “Just some business I need to do.”
This vagueness was one of the big reasons I wouldn’t call him more than friend even if there were a deeper connection. “Sure. See you when you’re back.”
I headed into my room. With the world on the other side of the heavy security door, exhaustion bled into every inch of me. I collapsed on my bed, too tired to do more than kick off my shoes.
What happened this morning? I used to black out when I was drunk, but that was years ago. This felt different.
This felt more dangerous.
Partly because of the condition my hands were in. The cuts weren’t severe. Being near the grips on my gun should have healed them, but my skin was still scuffed and red. It was almost as if I wasn’t supposed to forget what I’d done.
There was the real problem—I couldn’t remember. Why had I wandered out there? What did I draw? Why was the entire thing a blank in my mind, aside from the random still images?
It didn’t matter how long I chased the questions, there were no answers, and that meant no silence for sleeping.
I rolled my head to the side to check the clock by the bed. How had I been in here for nearly forty-five minutes?
Ridiculous. If I wasn’t going to sleep, maybe I could draw. On my own terms, rather than whatever happened earlier.
I slipped my shoes on again, grabbed my sketchpad, and headed outside.
Azzie was exactly where she said she would be, practicing in the clearing behind the house that held my unwilling art just a few hours ago. She didn’t look up from her forms as I approached, but something told me she knew exactly where I was.
Getting close to her, despite close being several feet away, sent prickles racing over my skin. Could I actually feel her, or did I simply want to?
I settled onto the grass and opened my drawing pad. I let the pencil in my hand glide over paper, filling in the lines as it would, and alternated my attention between the drawing and her. She was grace. Liquid. She moved with a practiced ease, like a dancer.
The thoughts about what happened earlier weren’t gone, but they were tempered by my drawing and by her easy beauty. I lost myself in the lines, sketching a version of her that would never flow as smoothly as the real thing, but was still fluid.
“Is that me?” Her question startled me.
When did she stop practicing?
I looked between it and at her, where she’d crouched next to me. “It is,” I said.
“You’re incredible.” Pink tinged her cheeks. “Your art, I mean.”
“Thanks.” I wanted to argue. To tell her it was nothing. I’d spent most of my life hearing that my art was a waste of time, and eventually learning to hide it from anyone but Mom.
Finn insisted I own my talent though. He never let me explain or push away or deflect a compliment.
A yawn threatened to split my jaw, and my eyes watered.
“I thought you were going to sleep.” Was Azzie actually concerned?
Why wouldn’t she be?
Because she’d grown up believing she was fated to kill me.
“I tried.” My being this close to her was a temptation, like two days ago when we met. Her heat and energy were both intoxicating and comforting.
Odd combination.
She stood. “It was the coffee wasn’t it?”
I climbed to my feet as well. “Probably.” It wasn’t. I wobbled on my feet as exhaustion spilled inside. My mind raced and my body reacted to how close she stood. I wanted her again. The other day was incredible. The frantic sex. The giving in, before we knew how we were connected.
I was too tired for frantic, but I needed?—
“I know what’ll help you sleep,” Azzie said.
A fast, hard orgasm? “What’s that?”
“A fast, hard orgasm.”
I huffed a laugh at the apparent mind-reading. “Have I mentioned I like the way you think?”
She hooked her arm through mine, and the instant my skin brushed hers, bits of the mental storm evaporated. We walked side-by-side back to the house, and into my room.
“Relax,” she said after I locked the door behind us. “Let me do the work.” There was a tenderness in her voice that I hadn’t seen yet.
I wasn’t sure this was the way to do things, but I was willing to give it a try. She pulled off my shirt, then the rest of my clothes, with a soft touch that sent shivers of need spilling through me.
“Sit.” Azzie nudged me playfully, and I landed on the bed, the comforter cool against my bare ass.
I couldn’t find a reason to protest as she stripped out of her own clothes, a piece at a time. Though there was no smooth seductive dance, it was clear she appreciated the audience, and the way she moved was as fluid and graceful as outside. Every twist and stretch and flex showed off muscle definition built on a lifetime of training.
She closed the distance between us, and nudged me back on the bed, until I was on my back in the middle of the mattress. The way she crawled up my body reminded me of a sleek cat, stalking prey for fun rather than food.
I should be bothered at the thought of being her prey, but every feeling except desire was evaporating.
She drew her fingers lightly along my skin, and slid into an upright kneeling position as she straddled my hips. The way she hovered over my cock, heat radiating between us, meant her pussy brushed my hungry erection, but she didn’t lower herself enough for me to enter her.
Azzie was a vision sitting above me. The kind of lines I could draw for days, from her hips to her breasts. I placed my hands on her thighs and slid higher, following random scars. Some were stark, and others faint white lines against her already pale skin. Did she know where every one of them came from?
I suspected she did.
She grabbed my wrists and leaned in as she pinned them above my head. “I’m doing the work.”
Her words hummed through me as she pressed her lips to my skin. She kissed along my tattoos. I knew where each was without looking, and swore electricity hummed through those with runes when she brushed over them.
“Did you design these?” Her question was muffled by more kisses.
“Yes.”
Azzie moved to my right arm, and dragged a finger over a series of lines I didn’t realize were letters when I chose them.
“Not sure what this one says, but pretty sure it’s loyalty, ” she said.
Being this close to her was simultaneously soothing and electrifying. I twisted my head for a better look, despite knowing what I’d see. “Not a clue. When the images popped into my head, I had no idea magic was real.”
A sad smile whispered across her face. “I still have a hard time wrapping my brain around not knowing. It’s like growing up thinking the earth is flat.”
“Not quite the same. It’s more like growing up not knowing that nine millimeter and three-eighty are the same diameter, despite the rounds being different sizes.”
Azzie twisted her mouth and lowered herself, trapping my erection between us and wrapping it in tempting, slick warmth. I twitched to be inside her, but the lead-up was a fun kind of torture.
“I have a fri— associate who would read you like a book. The images I mean.” Azzie slid back and forth, teasing both of us.
Finn said he didn’t know what my art said, but I knew better. “Might be nice to have answers.” The words were strained and my brain wanted to give up all thought that wasn’t fuck her now.
“Hmm.” She resumed the kissing, and peppered it with the occasional lick and nibble along my chest. She straightened as her grinding intensified, and the tiny gasps that tore from her throat said she was enjoying this as much as I was.
I couldn’t just lay here, though, and moved my hands back to her thighs. She didn’t stop me as I glided higher, sliding my thumb toward her core. As she rocked against my cock, I stroked her clit.
When she grabbed my forearms, she dug her fingers in rather than stopping me, and her gasps became punctuated moans. The sounds she made, the way her movements grew jerkier, had me as hard as I’d ever been. Could I come this way?
Not yet. I clenched and focused on her pleasure. Her voice and breathing. The flush spreading over her skin. When she came, cries tearing from her throat, I swore she was actually magical.
“Gorgeous.” I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until a half smile broke through her climax.
Mid-orgasm, she shifted her weight and pulled one hand from my arm to grip my cock and help me slide inside her.
She was wet and hot, and still clenching when I penetrated her. Fuck , this was incredible.
I moved my hands up to cup her breasts and tease her nipples, while we slammed against each other. The only thing that mattered was feeling this. Her . The frantic hammering. The way she looked lost in pleasure.
There was no holding back any longer. I came hard, spilling inside her, and not wanting the moment to stop.
The intensity faded as the rush of orgasm slid away, but I didn’t want this to end. She collapsed on top of me and lay there with her head on my chest.
This was heaven. I didn’t care if one or both of us were gods, as long as this was what we did together.
The haze of infatuation thinned when she rolled off me and to one side.
Fuck.
“No condom.” Of course that was the first thing I realized now that I could think again.
“The knives protect me.” Her tone and the need to cling to the warm fuzzies kept me from pushing the first part of her statement.
“Like a magical condom?” I needed her next to me, and pulled her closer again, against my chest.
“Something like that.”
“One is my forge and the other is on my floor.”
She molded her body to mine. “It’s not as if I have to wield them while I fuck. Think you can sleep now?”
Yes, but not because of the sex. Because she was here. “Stay. Just a little longer.” I should be concerned about the condom thing, but nothing mattered in this moment except being closer to her.
The way she pressed even closer was all the answer I needed.
This was the start of something terrifying. Not in an I’m losing myself to infatuation kind of way, but more of a the world is about the crumble thing.
No. I was looking for an excuse to dislike a good thing. How could something that felt this right be bad?