“What do you mean?”
“He sounded off.” Zayne looked down. “Let me get you out of here.”
“I can get myself—”
“There are bodies and gore covering just about every square inch of the pool. You’re going to walk in it and slip.” Zayne’s wings spread out and he lifted in the air. “And I doubt Dez would be happy with you getting brains all over the car seat.”
I frowned. “Brains are already on me.”
“Even more reason to not get more on you.” He hovered above me, extending his arms. “Let me just get you out of the pool.”
Zayne had a point, but I hesitated, feeling as if I needed to prove that I could do this without help. I’d already needed his help once tonight. Frustration burned as I took a step and felt something sticky under my boot.
“What is it?” Zayne’s wings moved soundlessly. When I didn’t answer, he moved to my other side. “Talk to me, Trin.”
“It’s just that... I already had to rely on you tonight when I couldn’t see, and I can get out of here. It might be messy, but I just...” My hands opened and closed, and I thought about how badly I’d performed while training blindfolded. “I need to be independent.”
“What?” Confusion filled his voice.
Staring at what I thought might be exposed ribs, I struggled to find the words to explain. “I don’t want you or anyone to think that I can’t be...independent, or that I need to rely on others all the time.”
“I don’t for one second think that you accepting help when you need it means you’re not independent.”
“Yeah, well, other people won’t agree with you.”
Zayne landed next to me, probably in the only clear spot. He tucked his wings back. “Who are these people?”
I coughed out a dry laugh. “Everyone? Have you seen how people talk about others who have...” I swallowed hard. “Who have disabilities?”
God, saying that was harder than I’d realized. Disability. What a loaded word, one I wasn’t sure I’d spoken aloud before. Maybe I’d never said it because of what it implied, that there was something different about me, something that had to be accommodated.
But disability wasn’t a bad word, and it didn’t mean that. It just meant what it meant. I was a Trueborn. And a kick-ass fighter. But I was still disabled at the end of the night. And I knew that didn’t define me. It wasn’t the sum of who I was. It was just a part of me.
Still, it was a hard word to say.
And I felt bad for feeling that it was a hard word to say. Like I was betraying others with disabilities by finding it hard to admit I, too, had a disability.
Didn’t change that I felt like I had to prove myself.
“Trin?” Zayne’s voice was soft.
I shook my head. “People expect you to be self-sufficient and strong all the time. Like you’re supposed to be a shining example of rising above the suckage handed to you, or you’re there to serve some freaking purpose of proving how anyone can overcome odds if they’re just positive enough. Even people who have the same damn problems sometimes think that way.”
“Has Thierry or Matthew said anything like that to you?” he demanded in a way that made me worried for them.
“Not really. I mean, they taught me to not let it hold me back. So did my mom, but...” I started to scrub my hands over my face then realized they were caked in zombie blood. “I belonged to this vision support group a few years back. It was this online thing, and I wanted to know what others thought, you know, who were dealing with something similar. Most were great, but there were some who were so caught up in making sure everyone heard their opinions and how they dealt with things, that they never listened to anyone else. They were so busy telling everyone in the group how we should adapt or feel, or even how we should talk about how we’re feeling, or the challenges and—” I threw up my hands. “I don’t even know why I’m talking about this right now. We’re surrounded by dead stinky zombies.”
“There’s no more perfect time than now,” he said.
“Oh, I can think of many more perfect times that don’t involve brain matter.” I planted my hands on my hips. “Look, I just don’t want to be...”
A burden. A victim. A challenge. Someone to pity and coddle and worry about. Someone treated less than, even with the best intentions.
I took a breath. “I don’t know what to say. It’s late. I’m tired, and I have brains on me.”
“That’s okay. I know exactly what to say.”
“Goody,” I muttered.
“First off, I don’t give a crap about what some random person on the internet who appointed themselves the mouthpiece of everything thinks. You’ve proven a hundred times over that you’re independent and strong. You just jumped off that—” he gestured at the railing “—and didn’t think twice about it. Still wish you hadn’t done that, but whatever. You needing my help once or twice or five times in one night isn’t an indication of losing your independence.”
“Then what is it?”
His chest rose and then fell. “You’re doing the best that you can, Trinity.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Those were the words I’d spoken to him when I’d told him about my eye condition. I’m doing the best that I can. I’d said that.
“You’re so damn amazing, and you don’t even know it.”
My wide eyes met his.
“And you’re also so freaking frustrating,” he added. The corners of my lips turned down. “You know, there’ve been plenty of times that I’ve forgotten you can’t see well and when I remember, I’m actually kind of shocked that you don’t need more help, and you have no idea how...how in awe of you I am, that you do what you do under these circumstances. That you’re carrying out your duty and not holding back or letting your vision limit you. So, dammit, Trinity, don’t let what others think or say or even what you fear hold you back when you need help. Don’t waste a damn second worrying about it. Let me help you—let anyone help you when you need it, and that’ll make you even stronger.”
“You...you’re in awe of me?” I asked, my voice sounding too small.
“Is that the only part of what I just said that you heard?”
“Well, no.” I rocked back on my heels. “I heard everything.”
Zayne leaned forward, his wings spreading out to balance him, and even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I felt the intensity of his stare. “You never cease to amaze me, Trinity. I don’t think there’ll ever be a time that you do. So, yes, I’m in awe of you.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. In my chest, there was a swell of emotion so powerful that I thought it might float me right up to the ceiling.
“But I still think you should drink more water.”
A shaky laugh left me. “That is all...really nice. Not the water part, but what you said. Thank you.” My cheeks flushed as I held out my hands. “Okay. You can take me out of here.”
Zayne stared at me, his face half-hidden in the shadows. “You drive me crazy.”
“Sorry?”
“No, you’re not.” Zayne sighed.
He didn’t take my hands. Instead, he folded an arm around my waist and pulled me against him as he lifted into the air, much like he had the night we flew as high as we could. On instinct, my hands landed on his shoulders. The full-body contact was as jarring as the landing I’d made earlier, because he was too warm and felt too good.
The trip to the pool deck was quick and when he landed, I took my hands from his shoulders. He didn’t let go, at least not immediately. He held me to him, and I didn’t dare lift my head to see if he was looking down at me. I also didn’t concentrate on the bond to see if I could pick up what he was feeling beyond my own suddenly pounding heart.
His chest rose against mine, and his chin grazed the top of my head. “Make me a promise.”
“Anything,” I responded, unintentionally parroting what he’d said when I’d asked for a favor.
Zayne’s arm tightened. “Promise me that whenever you need help, no matter what, you’ll ask for it.”
I closed my eyes, shaken, and the words left me without much effort. “I promise.”
“Good,” he replied, and then I felt his lips against my forehead.
A kiss so chaste, so sweet that it shouldn’t have undone me, but it did. The kiss rattled me to my core, just as his words had. I almost wanted him to take back what he’d said, and the kiss, too, because it was easier that way. So much easier. But I cherished it all, probably too much.
He turned suddenly, and then his grip around my waist loosened and I slid down onto my feet. The friction was a blast to my senses, and I took a step back.
“Sorry,” he said, voice raspy. “There was...stuff on the deck.”
“It’s okay.” I looked around, avoiding eye contact. Blowing out a long breath, I wiped my hands on my outer thighs. Time to get back to what was important. “I have a bad feeling about all of this.”
“As do I. A demon led us right to this place where a horde of zombies were conveniently waiting.”