“I don’t take orders from you.” Evangeline rolls her eyes and turns forward, lacing her arms back around me in a way that I’m sure Aamon can see and has me grinning ear to ear.I’m about to turn towards the road, say fuck off to Aamon and leave him in the dust, but a yelp from Evangeline stops me. Aamon’s fingers are tucked meticulously in the shell of the back of her helmet, pulling her backwards on the bike. Helplessly, she follows his direction, and squeaks again when he yanks her head back so that her face is skyward and she can’t move.
“I said, you can ride with him. But tonight, you’remine.”He leans in, pulling back harder and making her squirm. “Understood?”
She tries to nod, but in his grip, she’s not really capable of much. His authority over her is grating, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying this the tiniest bit.
“A little help here, Sterling?” she grinds out, looking down to try and meet my eyes.
I cross my arms over my chest and shrug. “Seems like he’s got you in a tight spot, Angel. Better give him what he wants.” Evangeline stares back at me, aghast—or at least tries to with her limited range of motion. Even Aamon has a hint of surprise in his eyes, clearly not used to me agreeing with him, but he recovers quickly and directs Evangeline’s attention back to him.
He doesn’t repeat himself, just fixes her with a stern glare and waits for her to answer. She waits a moment. Two. But eventually her resolve wears away and she’s grumbling back up to him: “Understood.”
He smiles, a small grin that only touches half of his face, but there’s desire in his dark eyes that communicates to me just how much he already has planned for her tonight. And fuck is she in trouble. He nods, eyes assessing her as he holds firm on the back of her helmet, refusing to let her go. Instead, he guides her lips to his and leans in, stealing a kiss.
Okay, now I’m fucking pissed. And incredibly turned on. Her thighs tighten around me, her fingers curling into my T-shirt. He knows exactly what he’s doing to her, and exactly how her body is reacting against mine, thanks to this kiss. And as if he hears the fucking thought in my head, he pops his eyes open, casting me a sidelong glance—mid-kiss—and throws me a wink.
Fuck it all. I wait for him to pull away—and not a second longer—before taking off and spitting gravel at his feet, Evagenline shrieking in terror as we disappear into the night.
Aamon stays true to his word. The moment we arrive in the Market Ebon, he’s whisking Evangeline away before I can protest. I’d go after them, but Andras has assigned each of the Blood Order members shifts for tonight. I don’t particularly care about disobeying direct orders, but I don’twant Andras’ attention on Evangeline. And Zeke wastes no time to remind me it would be if Andras finds out I disregarded my shift to be with her.
So instead, I walk the aisles of the market with Zeke by my side. He remains silent for the majority of our shift, the tension between us palpable. I focus my mind on only one thing to pass the time—what Aamon plans to do with Evangeline to celebrate Esbat.
The market itself is packed with patrons, which only makes the time go by slower as we have to take our time picking through the crowds. We slip past street performers, musicians busking for coin, and makeshift stalls crammed in the busy streets that weren’t here less than a day ago. We watch from the shadows as more suspicious members snake their way through the rows and even have to stop and break up a few fights. None of it is enough to distract me from where I truly want to be, unable to help the viscous tunnel vision I get as I count down the remaining minutes of our shift.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Zeke murmurs as we turn the last of the aisles. A vendor holds out an offering from a stall to our left—some sort of dark liquid, most likely a mix of alcohol and blood, in a small glass—and Zeke takes it begrudgingly. It’s not abnormal to receive such things during Esbat. The Blood Order is highly respected, or rather feared, and the people of the ungoverned district know it’s in their best interest to stay in our good graces.
I hate it, the feel of their fear over the title we hold. Every gift and offering laced with the bitter stench of their dread at what might happen if they didn’t. It's not for me—this life, this role. But it’s who I’ve had to learn to become for the sake of survival. The tenderness and pain I’ve seen in Evangeline has reminded me of that, how far removed I am from the person I used to be.
“I could say the same to you,” I shoot back.
I slow beside him, and he cuts me a sidelong glare through his veil before he tips back the shot given to him. He fits here. I know he doesn’t think he does. He thinks I’m the one who’s found a home here, while he’s remained on the outskirts. But he couldn’t be more wrong.
His strength, his courage, the way he’s able to harden himself to do what’s necessary—no matter what that looks like. Those are the things that help him fit here so effortlessly, what has made him blossom in such an environment and allowed me to see a side of him I’ve never known before. A side that has me falling even harder for him. And it’s exactly what I’m incapable of doing. I proved that last night, when I couldn’t even keep it together long enough to ensure Evangeline was truly okay. To take care of her in the aftermath of her turning. Instead, I’d left her in the hands of others when my own shortcomings reared their ugly heads. I’d run away to Zeke and expected him to catch me, like I always do. To hold me while I fell apart and piece me back together after.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” The words are sultry as they slip past my lips. Zeke pauses, glass frozen midair as his head turns, his veiled eyes no doubt searching to find mine. “I’m serious.” I force out a laugh, taking a couple steps and turning around to face him as I continue walking backwards. “You, under the lights of the Market Ebon, in the Blood Order, with that veil over your face and that cut on your back? It suits you.”
Zeke scoffs, handing the glass back to the vendor and pushing past me. “Knock it off, Sterling. You’re not nearly as funny as you think.”
“Who says I’m joking?” I ask, spinning around easily and matching his stride. Our shift is nearly over now and I’m itching to grab him and dash into the throngs of heavy music drifting from Bloodlust just ahead. “Can’t a male appreciate another male’s beauty without getting the third degree?”
“Not when that male is lying out of his ass about the other male’sbeauty. And not when that male has failed to make up for his wrongdoings this morning.” He says the words with bite, spoken through a clenched jaw. “I am many things, Sterling. But beautiful is not one of them.” He slows his stride as his gaze sets on the same location mine had moments ago. He knows our shift is over just as much as I do. Which means he’s come to the same realization I have—that we have the rest of Esbat to indulge in whatever pleasures we desire.
I wrap my fingers around his forearm and pull him into the back alley of the bar. “I’m not lying, Ezekiel.” I lean back against the brick wall, pulling him into me. I don’t kiss him, not yet. Instead I pull my veil up and run my nose over the outline of his neck, through the stubble on his chin, and up the edge of his veil until I finally land at his ear. “You are beautiful. Something about this place has let you rest, let you beyouand not just my protector.” I nip playfully at his earlobe. “And I am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that of you this morning. I only wish . . .” I trail off, swallowing around the lump that has suddenly formed in my throat. “I only wish I could be better for you.”
Zeke pushes me back, a firm hand on my chest as he tilts his head and takes me in. “What the fuck do you mean by that?” There’s a hint of anger in his voice, but I know it’s not directed towards me. Maybe in some ways it is, but his anger is for the parts of me that only live to tear me down, the parts that whisper darkness, threatening to drag me under once again.
I give my head a shake, pushing that darkness down and offering him a saccharine smile. “Only that I envy your strength, Zeke. That I admire your ability to move on from everything we’ve been through. It’s . . . beautiful.” I shrug on the last word, unable to explain it in any other way.
Zeke exhales through his nostrils, his jaw wound tight. I can tell there’s something he’s wrestling with, something he’s trying to smother rather than let see the light of day.
He doesn’t need to say it . I know how he feels. The way he longs to protect me, even now that we're within the safety of Requiesse, under Andras’ asylum. The way he won’t allow himself to fully be mine, like there’s always something holding him back. The way he doesn’t believe a word of what I just said—that he’s thriving here, far better than me. He refuses to see his own beauty, to understand his own worth, no matter how hard I try to get through to him. But I suppose we have that in common. Perhaps that’s what draws us to one another, an eternal battle to convince the other of what we see in the other.
“Kiss me.” I offer a distraction in the only way I know how, with my body. If he’s not ready to voice those feelings, then I won’t be the one to push him.
Zeke hesitates a moment, still battling with whatever thoughts are waging war inside his mind. But it’s only a moment and then he’s leaning in, lifting his own veil off his face and allowing his lips to tease softly at mine.
What we have with each other is something I can’t quite explain. It’s not a relationship, not really. But no one knows how to watch me fall apart and piece me back together like Zeke. No one knows how to hold me, dominate me, love me, and see me quite like Ezekiel.
His tongue parts my lips and he deepens the kiss, his hands finally wrapping around me. One hand pulls at the tresses falling against my neck, leaning my head back so he has better access as he fully claims my mouth. Hisother hand wraps around the small of my back and his palm flattens against my ass. But the denim of my jeans is stiff and I can tell it’s not enough to satiate his hunger. I smile against his lips, and before he can protest, I back us through the alleyway and into the back entrance of Bloodlust.
