THIRTY-THREE #2
Yet this was coming from Zarek, the warrior who burned first and asked questions later.
The Great Captain who commanded with silence and intimidation.
He was also someone who understood people in ways she hadn’t expected, reading minds and watching humans wrestle with their shame, their secrets, and their fragile egos for who knows how long.
He wasn’t just powerful. He was wise.
And somehow, in all her assumptions about him being dangerous, lethal, and untouchable, she’d never considered he might also be kind. That he might understand loneliness and rejection better than anyone she’d ever met, because he’d lived it too. Centuries of it.
“How do you know all this?” she asked quietly.
His jaw tightened. “Because I’ve seen what shame does to people. What secrets do. And I’ve spent a long time watching people blame the wrong things for their pain.”
Poor Zarek had spent his entire life being the thing people blamed for their discomfort, the man who couldn’t touch anyone without burning them, while people avoided looking at him because his eyes could drive them mad.
Just like her.
“So, I’m just a different type of freak, then.”
“You’re not a freak, Angela. You’re powerful. And power makes people uncomfortable,” he added, pulling his hand away from hers. “Did you know?”
She shrugged. “My aunt called it a gift. To me, I always thought I’d been cursed…”
“I see my magic as a curse, too.”
She looked at him, surprised by the admission.
“But it was more than the eyes. People just… knew. Like they all knew that I was somehow different. Broken.” Again, she fell back, tossing the pillow over her head to hide.
“You’re not broken.” Zarek pulled back the pillow and smiled—actually smiled—and it transformed his face. He was gorgeous. “I’m the freak who can burn people with my touch, read minds, and send people mad if they look at me too long.”
“How do we know I can’t do that, too?” An icy fear crept back in, wrapping around her rib cage. “It scares me, Zarek. I don’t know how I made that rain. Or that I’d been compelling people to tell me their secrets. I don’t know what I am. But what I do know is that I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“I know you don’t.”
And he believed her. She felt it with an absolute certainty that settled into her bones—or were those his emotions? But it was enough for her to sit up again and brush the hair away from her face, even if her gown was a rumpled mess.
He reached out and gently smoothed down the ends of her hair. It was a simple and tender gesture that made her chest ache and her poor heart to thump-thump-thump. His teal eyes held hers that she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to.
The pause stretched between them, as the intimacy of sharing the same warm air became electrified.
She could feel the heat from his body, not literally, but the weight of his attention and the raw need beneath his control.
Not lust, but something deeper that created a tension so tight she could barely breathe.
What would happen if she leaned in and kissed him?
His eyes dropped to her lips, which she licked because he was watching.
Heat crept into her cheeks as she straightened out her gown.
Zarek cleared his throat and moved back as he sat on the bed—but he didn’t stand or head for the door. “Have you ever done that wish thing before?”
“I-I’ve wished people a good day when they’ve helped me. Strangers, family, that sort of thing. And they have good days, but I never thought—” She shook her head. “I never knew it could do anything. And if it works, how come I didn’t get that pony I wished so hard for as a little girl?”
That made him smile again. Twice in one conversation. A record.
“So, let’s find out what you can and can’t do?”
“Can’t I just have the day off from all of this?
” She flopped back on her pillow, rolling over so her back was to him.
“I’m tired.” And she was, from lack of sleep and the nightmares, and using her magick was exhausting.
If she were home, this was one of those days when she’d microwave some popcorn and binge-watch something unmemorable.
“Are you saying you want to hide in here?”
“Yes. No.” Because this room was her prison, no matter how nicely they dressed it up. “I just want to go outside. I haven’t been outside since I arrived as a p—”
“You’re not a prisoner, Angela. And there is a garden outside. I’ll show you, if you like.”
Outside.
The word was a lifeline.
“Don’t you have some warrior thing to do?” Trying to lighten the mood, because the prospect of getting outside made her spirits lift despite everything.
“Always. But I’ll show you the way and leave you to be alone, if you like.”
“Thanks.” She jumped off the bed and smoothed down her gown. “You do it, too.”
“Do what?” Zarek stood, watching her.
She could practically feel his eyes on her as she straightened the hair flowing over her shoulders. Normally she’d shy away from attention, but the look had a weight to it, as if softly touching her curves.
“Spend time on your own a lot. You understand why I do it, too.”
“Yes,” he said, taking a step back from her. “I’ve always kept away from others. Mostly to avoid harming them, and I found it best to find my own answers.” He opened the door for her. “But I’ll be here if you need me. Don’t ever hesitate to come find me.”
“Thank you for explaining. And for understanding.” She hadn’t planned it when she leaned in and kissed his cheek, but it somehow made the world tilt.
Heat flooded her body, not from embarrassment, but from a deep low hum within her blood. Her breath caught in surprise as a wash of raw, undeniable desire crashed through her.
And worse, she felt the answering surge in him. His shock. And his want that was fierce and barely restrained.
Her eyes flew open in surprise as she pulled back.
His fingertips brushed over his cheek where her lips had been.
Neither of them spoke as the air between them became too thick to breathe. Angela’s heart hammered against her ribs. She knew he could feel it. Just like she could feel his.
“The garden,” Zarek said finally, his deep voice rougher than usual. “You wanted fresh air.”
“Yes.” Her own voice barely above a whisper.
Walking side by side through the corridors, she was hyperaware of every step. The space between them became magnetic, that every time his arm brushed hers, her skin sparked. Yet they never said a word.
When they reached a set of double doors, he pushed them open to the bright sunshine and green gardens. “Stay within the walls, please.”
The weight of his gaze nearly undid her. Her whole life, people had shunned her without knowing why, yet he looked at her like she was the most important thing in the world. Even after knowing all her flaws, her brattiness, and sulky behavior—the parts she hid from everyone who wasn’t family.
He nodded once then stepped back, putting distance between them as if it took effort.
Angela turned toward the garden, forcing herself not to look back. Because if she looked back, she didn’t know what would happen.
And she wasn’t ready to find out.