Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Milo
Iwas tending to Zane's wound in the kitchen, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the heat radiating from his skin. The magical injury had partially healed thanks to the antidote Winter had applied, but it still needed proper cleaning and dressing.
"This might sting a little," I warned, dabbing the wound with antiseptic. My fingers brushed against his bare chest, and I felt my face flush.
Zane watched me with those mismatched eyes, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're blushing, Necromancer."
"I am not," I lied, focusing intently on the bandage I was unwrapping. "It's just warm in here."
"Mmm-hmm," he hummed, not believing me for a second.
I leaned closer to inspect the injury, painfully aware of how near my face was to his chest. The wound was healing well, the magical poisoning completely neutralized, but it would still leave a scar. Another mark to add to his collection.
"You need to keep this clean," I instructed, trying to sound professional. "Change the bandage twice a day. No strenuous activity for at least 48 hours."
My hand lingered on his skin, my fingers forgetting their purpose as I felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm. I stopped talking mid-sentence, momentarily lost in the sensation.
"And?" Zane prompted, his voice dropping lower that sent shivers down my spine.
"And..." I swallowed, trying to remember what I was saying. "And, um, no getting into fights with werewolves in hallways."
Zane laughed, the sound rich and warm. "That might be difficult to avoid." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Especially when I've got something worth fighting for."
My entire body went hot, from my neck to the tips of my ears. I was certain I resembled a tomato more than a person at this point.
"You know," Zane continued, his tone casual but his eyes intent, "for someone who can raise the dead with a snap of his fingers, you get flustered remarkably easily."
"Raising the dead is easy," I muttered, finally managing to apply the fresh bandage. "It's the living that complicate things."
"Speaking of complications," Zane caught my wrist as I finished with the bandage, his touch gentle but firm. "Did you mean what you said in the factory? About never being with anyone?"
I froze, mortified that he was bringing this up now, with Winter and Rook just in the next room. "Can we not talk about this here?"
"Why not?" His thumb traced circles on the inside of my wrist, sending jolts of electricity up my arm. "Are you embarrassed?"
"No," I lied again, then sighed. "Maybe a little."
Zane tugged me closer, until I was standing between his legs where he sat on the kitchen stool. "You shouldn't be. There's nothing wrong with waiting for the right person."
I couldn't meet his eyes, focusing instead on a point just past his shoulder. "It wasn't really waiting. More like no one was ever interested."
"Now that," Zane's free hand came up to tilt my chin, forcing me to look at him, "is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
Before I could respond, he pulled me against him and whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "Do you still want me to show you what you've been missing, like I suggested in the factory?"
My heart hammered so hard I was certain he could hear it. I couldn't form words, but my eyes must have conveyed my answer because Zane's lips curved into a predatory smile.
"That's what I thought," he murmured, then closed the distance between us.
His lips were softer than I'd imagined, and I'd imagined them quite a lot.
The kiss started gentle, almost questioning, but quickly deepened when I responded with embarrassing eagerness.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips, coaxing them open, and I gasped at the sensation of his tongue sliding against mine.
My hands, which had been hanging uselessly at my sides, found their way to his shoulders, careful to avoid his injury. Zane made a sound of approval deep in his throat, his own hands settling at my waist, pulling me closer.
Our tongues danced together as the kiss grew more heated, my inexperience forgotten in the rush of sensation. Zane tasted like magic and danger, a combination that made my head spin. I felt his hands slide under my shirt, his warm palms against my back sending shivers up my spine.
When we finally broke apart for air, I was embarrassingly aware of how hard I was, pressed against him as I was. From the feel of things, Zane was in a similar state.
"You're a quick study," he grinned, his voice husky. "Sure you haven't done this before?"
I shook my head, still too breathless to speak.
Zane's hand came up to tangle in my hair, guiding me back for another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding.
His tongue explored my mouth with a thoroughness that made my knees weak, while his other hand slid lower, gripping my hip and pulling me more firmly against him.
The friction was incredible, even through our clothes. I moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss. Emboldened, I let my own hands explore, tracing the muscles of his chest, careful to avoid the bandage.
Zane growled, the sound sending a thrill through me. He broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jaw, down to my neck where he nipped lightly at the sensitive skin. I gasped, my head falling back to give him better access.
"Zane," I managed, my voice barely recognizable.
He hummed against my throat, the vibration making me shiver. "Yes, Necromancer?"
"I—" Whatever I was about to say was cut off by a sharp intake of breath that wasn't mine.
We both turned to see Winter standing close by, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. Rook loomed behind her, his expression unreadable.
"I, um, just came to get some water," Winter explained, though she made no move toward the vending machine. Her eyes were fixed on us, her lips slightly parted, her breathing quickened.
I should have been mortified, caught in such a compromising position. Instead, I felt a strange thrill at the way Winter was looking at us, her gaze dark with what could only be described as arousal.
Zane, ever the opportunist, didn't release his hold on me. If anything, his grip tightened slightly. "See something you like, Shortstack?" His voice was teasing, but with an edge of heat that made my pulse race.
Winter swallowed visibly. "I should go."
"Or you could stay," Zane suggested, his tone casual but his eyes intense. "Milo and I were just getting to know each other better."
I should have been embarrassed, but the way Winter was looking at us, like she couldn't tear her eyes away, made me bold. "We don't mind an audience," I found myself saying.
Winter's eyes darkened further, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Behind her, Rook made a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan.
The moment stretched, charged with possibilities, the four of us caught in a web of attraction and desire that defied simple explanation. I held my breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Then the apartment door swung open with a bang, and Fenric's voice called out, "I've completed the incident report for today's cultist encounter and…"
He stopped abruptly as he entered the kitchen, taking in the scene before him: Zane and me in a clear embrace, Winter watching with obvious interest, Rook looking like he was torn between joining in and tearing the place apart.
Fenric's eye twitched violently. Without a word, he pulled out his tablet and began typing furiously, his ears turning a brilliant shade of pink.
"I'll just," he backed toward the door, his composure cracking for once, "file the appropriate forms for this situation."
As he fled, Winter finally broke, a giggle escaping her that quickly turned into full-blown laughter. I couldn't help joining in, the tension of the moment dissolving into shared mirth. Even Rook's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
Zane, still holding me close, whispered in my ear, "To be continued, Necromancer."
The promise in his voice sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.