You’re Somebody Else #2
“Love, Tori. I fucking love you.”
I stagger back at his admission. Our physical arrangement just began. Love? That’s out of the damn question.
The lust and anger I get, but love? No matter how many years we’ve spent on Earth, the range of emotion that’s been foreign to us for centuries is hard to control at times.
When you’ve gone lifetimes not feeling a thing, being on Earth can be overwhelming and all-consuming.
Especially when you feel everything so acutely.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Zeke lectures. “You don’t get to pretend that you don’t feel something more for me. You practically took my head off for being away for two damn days, Tori. You obviously care.”
I do. I care a lot. There’s no questioning that. It’s the love part that has me speechless. I’ve only felt a strong pull to someone one other time, and it was all a farce. It’s hard for me not to question my own feelings when they’ve failed me so epically in the past.
“Whatever this is,” I say, gesturing between the two of us, “it’s something. But love? I’m not even sure I know what that feels like.”
He takes a giant step toward me, grabbing my hands in his. “I’m not asking for you to love me back. Not yet. I only want you to be open to it.”
My heart swells at the sincerity and hopefulness I see in Zeke.
It gives me faith that my days on Earth can be so much more than I ever dreamed.
I can build a life here. One to be proud of, despite what Heaven thinks.
Maybe those thoughts are Earth making me foolish, but I’m not going to question it.
Almada said I have a new path, and damn it, I’m going to be the one to forge it. At least the parts I can.
“One day, I might be open to it.” I say, drawing the widest smile from Zeke.
He picks me up, swinging me around. I chuckle at the sensation, all the while instructing him to put me down. When I’m placed back down on wobbly legs, he places a kiss on my mouth and whispers, “You’ll love me one day.”
He pulls me back onto the bed, into his strong arms, searing me with a kiss that makes me lightheaded.
“You’ve got it bad, Kincaid.”
“You have no idea,” he growls into my lips, and I smile, loving that for now, he’s mollified. Thoughts of his feelings for Leeanna have disappeared for the moment.
I kiss him harder, savoring the energy that flows between us. If we were both powered up, I’d deepen our connection and light the damn sheets on fire. To prove whatever is building between us is worth more than whatever he had with Lee. It’s ridiculous and childish, but it can’t be helped.
He groans. “I have to go. I won’t be long.”
“Stay,” I beg, knowing full well he can’t. Something is brewing, and we need to be in front of it. Getting the humans ready is important.
“Think you can whip up a storm today?”
I smirk. “Hail and all?”
“The bigger, the better,” he says, placing one last kiss on my mouth. “I need to recharge, and so do you.”
“I’ll work on it.”
I finish getting dressed while Zeke does the same. I’m pulling my Nikes on when he speaks.
“Tori, I know you’re still thinking about Lee, but you know that’s over, right? I’ve proven that you’re it for me, haven’t I?”
After what I witnessed last night, I couldn’t deny that a very large part of me knows he’s not being honest with himself. A larger part wants to believe that his reaction was only to her randomly showing up. I’d have the same reaction if it were Luke.
“I do,” I say, knowing that it doesn’t matter either way, because there is no chance for Lee and Zeke given their stations. He fell and she stayed.
Right now, heavy conversations aren’t a good idea. I need levity. I need to get back to the flirtatious camaraderie we had going before we took the nose-dive into Leeanna territory.
Self-preservation kicks in out of nowhere, and I’m standing up straighter, fixing my hair—for some ridiculous reason—and taking a deep breath to change tack. I won’t allow myself to go down this tragic road of pathetic.
“I know you’re mine. I was just hoping we could cement that fact by spending more time in bed.” I go for his jugular. I’ve already stooped to insecure—might as well run the gamut to seductive. Why the hell not. Seems like a good time to let my feelings take me on a wild ride to crazy town.
He grunts. “I’ve waited for two years for you to say that, and I’m not even able to bask in my winnings.”
Much to my surprise, I’m feeling better already. I make a mental note to look for a therapist. ASAP.
“I was also kind of hoping for round two of shower sex,” I continue to goad, unexpectedly emboldened.
“You’re killing me, English.”
“Angels don’t have last names.”
“We’re playing at mortal, babe. Last names are essential here.”
“And you went with Kincaid?”
“It’s a strong name. Ezekiel Kincaid.”
I giggle at his territorial attitude about his name.
As sad as it is, it makes me feel wanted to have him spend his time talking to me.
It’s inane, but it’s something I’ve never had.
A companion. Someone to just shoot the shit with.
Zeke has become that person for me. The one I want to share silly news with and spill my deepest secrets to.
With the uncertainties I’m feeling, his absence will be felt twice as acutely when he finally leaves. I don’t want him to go.
Good grief, I’m pitiful.
From the giggle that’s far more girly than tolerable to the flip-flopping moods, it’s becoming clear that Earth has made me a mess.
Who am I even?
“When I get back, we’re staying in bed for days if we can.” Zeke’s voice brings me back to the conversation at hand.
“Ordering food and watching a boatload of movies too.”
He grins. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, angel.”
I flinch at the moniker, and thankfully he doesn’t notice. It’s what Luke had called me, and the thought leaves sourness behind.
“I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He places one last kiss to my cheek before leaving me to myself in the loft.
That nickname has me thinking about things I have no business thinking about.
Not after everything Zeke just shared with me.
I need a shower, and then I need to drum up a storm to revive my powers.
The need to run is intense but eclipsed by the thought of running into Lucifer. He was near. I could feel him.
I’m not ready to face the king of the damned. Somehow, I managed to escape the hound unscathed the last time I ran the trails, and I’m not about to press my luck.
Lucifer spared me.
I shiver at that reality. It’s the only explanation.
Hellhounds don’t show mercy unless given direct orders.
He also scared off the archangels. No matter how badly I want to dissect that, I have work to do.
Satan, Lucifer, king of Hell, Luke—whatever the heck you want to call him—would only bask in the idea that I am thinking of him.
The master of deception, epitome of evil. Not someone I’ll give another single thought to. It would only give him power over me.
If he spared me, he’ll come to collect his favor.
I punch my pillow, irate that I have allowed myself to be in such a position. It’s the truth, and I damn well know it. When Lucifer saves your life, he comes calling. He is the bargainer, and my life has been spared for a price, whether I asked for it or not.
I have to be ready for him.