I folded my arms and told a lie. “Not that much. Just little things that Misha has taught me.”
“Did he teach you how to throw?”
Misha hadn’t been the only one to train me. Thierry and Matthew had a huge part in it. “Yeah, but I’m better than him at it.”
Zayne chuckled, and the sound was still as nice as it had been last night as he cocked his arm. His movements were fast, and he let go of the dagger before I realized it. It struck the dummy, and I hurried over to see that it had hit the stomach.
“Was that where you were aiming?” I asked, wrapping my fingers around the still-thrumming handle.
“If I said it was, would you believe me?”
“No,” I laughed, pulling the blade out.
“I was aiming for the chest.”
“Then I’m better than you, too.” I turned around.
“Looks that way.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I haven’t used daggers in ages.”
“You really don’t need to.”
“Do you?”
The question caught me off guard, and my mind raced to find a possible unsuspicious answer. “Um, you never know. I mean, I do live with a race demons like to target, and we did have Ravers outside the wall,” I said. Okay. That was a smart answer, and I was rather proud of myself. “That’s why I know basic training and how to throw a dagger.”
“Smart. If you’re ever out with one of them, you’ll be able to defend yourself if you have daggers with you.”
What he didn’t know was that I really didn’t need daggers. If push came to shove, I could take Zayne down. I could take every Warden here, and barely break a sweat.
He walked back to me, and when he handed me the blade, I made sure our fingers didn’t touch.
“Have you seen a demon?” he asked.
“Yes. Have you?”
Zayne laughed then, and it was a real one. Deep. Throaty. Sexy as holy Hell. “You’re kind of a smart-ass.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“What kind of demons have you’ve seen? Just the Ravers?”
“Why are you asking so many questions?” I started for the table.
“I’m curious as Hell about you.”
“Because I live here?” I placed the daggers in their little slots. “If you saw me on the streets, you wouldn’t look twice in my direction.”
“That’s not true.”
My fingers lifted from the daggers as my gaze shot to where he now stood beside me.
“I always look twice or maybe even three times at a pretty girl,” he said, and that easy grin was back, curving up one side of his lips. “I don’t think we’re supposed to admit that now, or do that, but it’s the truth.”
I was still staring at him.
The grin grew into a wide smile, warming those cool blue eyes. “Did I cross a line there?”
“No.” I blinked, refocusing on the satchel. I closed the sides and tied them together. “Your curiosity is going to lead to one epic letdown.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I’m not very interesting.”
“That is probably the least correct thing I’ve heard all day.”
I fought a grin, thinking if he only knew the truth. “My mom knew Thierry before he became a Duke, while he lived in New York. She was attacked by a demon, exposed to them when I was a kid, and the rest is history,” I said, repeating what Thierry had told me to say. “When he became a Duke, we moved here with him.”
“Your father didn’t come?”
A near-hysterical-sounding laugh bubbled up my throat. “No. He’s around, but he’s not here.”
His brows furrowed as if he was trying to work that one out. He never would. Not in his wildest imagination. “And your mother?”
I looked away as a sharp twinge of pain lit up the center of my chest. “She’s gone.”
Zayne didn’t answer for a long moment. “Gone as in...no longer with us?”
Nodding, I swallowed the sudden knot that always appeared when I thought about Mom. “Yeah.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” he said, and when I looked at him, his gaze roamed over my face. “Losing a parent is... It’s never easy.”
His gaze caught mine and held, and I asked, “Do you...know how that feels?”
“My mother died giving birth to me, like many of our females do.” He brushed a strand of hair back behind his ear. “My father died a few months back.”
My heart squeezed at the unexpected piece of information. “I’m so sorry to hear that. God, that’s...intense. I’m really sorry. My mom died about a year ago, so it’s still fresh, but not...not like that.”
“Thank you.” He looked away.
Something clicked into place as I studied his profile. My stomach dipped. “Was your dad Abbot? The clan leader of DC?”
His head swiveled back to me. “Yes.”
“I’m really sorry.” I leaned to the side, catching his eyes. “He died a warrior’s death.”
“He did.”
“I know that doesn’t make it easier.”
“It doesn’t.”
Wardens weren’t easy to kill, but death was a shadow that always lingered a few steps behind them, as it was a horrific part of their everyday lives. That didn’t make death any easier to process.
“I really am sorry,” I repeated, feeling as if I needed to say it again. I cradled the leather satchel to my chest as something else started to click into place. Abbot, his father, had been the clan leader in DC, which meant, upon his death, Zayne should’ve ascended to the role. Had he been challenged by Nicolai and lost? Or had he refused to take the role? The latter seemed impossible to believe.
I thought about Misha’s warning. Had the clan not accepted Zayne as a leader? He was young—he couldn’t be more than a few years older than me—but was it more than that? Which didn’t make sense, because if that was the case, Thierry would know and not say that Zayne was honorable.
“So,” I said, running my fingers over the smooth leather. I knew what I was about to ask was grossly personal, but like Thierry had said earlier, I was often too curious for my own good. “Why aren’t you the clan leader?”
Zayne looked down at me. “That’s not something I can talk to you about.”
Disappointment rose, even though it wasn’t an unexpected response. “Because I’m not a Warden?”
He smiled tightly in response. “And because I don’t know you.”
Shame wiggled around in my stomach. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m often...impulsive and nosy.”
“Nosy? Never would’ve guessed that.” His tone was light, teasing even, but I still felt the centers of my cheeks flush.
Glancing at the door, I decided it was time I do the smart thing and get my butt back to the house before I ended up saying something else that I shouldn’t. “I need to go.” I took a step back, feeling about ten kinds of awkward. “It was nice, um, clearing the air, and again, I’m sorry about last night.”
The smile loosened. “Does this mean you don’t hate me?”
I winced. “I said that last night, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“I often say things I shouldn’t. You can add that to impulsive and nosy.”
He chuckled as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll make sure I’ll add that to the glowing list of attributes.”
“You do that.” Taking a couple more steps backward, I said, “See you later, Zayne.”
I pivoted around and took a several more steps.
“Trinity.”
I stopped and closed my eyes. I had no idea what to do with the little shiver that curled its way through my core in response to the way he said my name. It was a strong reaction, but he spoke my name like he... Like he was tasting it.
“Yeah?” As if I had no control, I turned back to him.
He hadn’t moved, and I was once again too far to see his eyes clearly, but I felt his gaze, intense and heavy. My heart rate kicked up. “How did your mother die? Was it a demon? Or something natural?”
Every muscle in my body tensed, and part of me knew I shouldn’t answer truthfully, but the words rose to the tip of my tongue. A truth that was rarely given air.
“No,” I said. “It was a Warden.”
7
Jada let out a loud, weary sigh as she leaned back against the couch beside my chair. “He is so annoying.”
“Yep.” I took a sip of my strawberry smoothie as I watched Clay shove one of the younger males in the chest and laugh as the boy stumbled back against the stone of the Hummer-size fire pit.
Why hadn’t I noticed this behavior before? Had I been blinded by the fact that he’d paid attention to me? I sighed. The answer was probably, which meant I needed to make better life choices.
“I really hope he gets assigned to someplace way, way far away from here.” Jada wiggled her fingers, and I handed over the smoothie. “Like Antarctica.”
“That’s still too close.” Ty was sitting on the other side of Jada, stretching out his long legs. He’d recently gotten his dark hair shorn, and I was still getting used to it. “Knowing my luck, he’ll end up assigned to the same city as me.”