He fell silent, his eyes distant.
"What happened?" I prompted gently.
"It wasn't alone. Had a hostage, a little girl, couldn't have been more than seven. I hesitated." His jaw tightened. "That hesitation cost lives. Not the girl's, I managed to save her, but others in the town weren't so lucky."
"That's not failure," I argued. "You saved a child."
"The Bureau didn't see it that way. Neither did the council that hired me." His smile was bitter now. "I was suspended, investigated, and nearly had my license revoked."
"That's bullshit," I glared over at Fenric fiercely. "You made the right call."
Zane looked at me, surprised by my vehemence. "Maybe. But it made me question everything. What was I doing? Who was I becoming? Two hundred years of violence and death, for what?"
"So you became a yoga instructor?" I couldn't help the slight skepticism in my voice.
He laughed, a genuine sound this time. "Not immediately. First, I got very drunk for about three months. Then I wandered. Ended up in Nepal, at this tiny monastery perched on a mountainside. The monks there practiced a form of meditation that helped magical beings control their energy."
"And that led to downward-facing dog?"
"In a roundabout way," he nodded. "I stayed for five years. Learned to channel my energy differently, to build rather than destroy. When I came back to the States, I started teaching what I'd learned."
"And the Bureau just let you go? After all that time?"
"Not exactly," Zane's expression darkened. "They keep tabs on me. Every now and then, they call in a favor, like assigning me to protect a certain prophetic librarian with a talent for chaos."
"Lucky you," my tone dry.
"Lucky me," he agreed, but his tone suggested he might actually mean it.
Our eyes met, and something electric passed between us. The water around us seemed to warm, the blue and green glows intensifying where they merged.
"What about you?" Zane's voice was softer. "Any deep, dark secrets you're hiding behind those gray eyes?"
"Nothing as dramatic as century-spanning demon hunting," I smiled. "Just your average librarian with a bad knee and a prophecy problem."
"Somehow, I doubt anything about you is average." Zane's gaze was intense, making my pulse quicken.
The atmosphere between us had shifted, becoming charged with something I wasn't quite ready to name. We were sitting closer now, though I couldn't remember either of us moving. The sounds of the spa, Milo's cheerful chatter, Fenric's continuing lecture, and the gentle splash of water, seemed to fade into the background.
"Zane," I began, not sure what I was going to say.
"Hmm?" He leaned in slightly, his eyes dropping briefly to my lips.
"I…"
"WHERE IS THE POOL?" A familiar growl interrupted whatever I'd been about to say.
We both turned to see Rook standing in the doorway, looking surprisingly relaxed. His perpetual scowl had softened, his shoulders were no longer up around his ears, and he moved with a languid grace I'd never seen from him before.
"Rook?" I called, waving him over. "How was your massage?"
He approached the pool slowly, his amber eyes slightly unfocused. "They have magic hands," his tone missing its usual edge. "Actual magic hands. With extra fingers."
"The Moonstone Suite specializes in shifter relaxation techniques," Fenric explained from across the pool. "They usea combination of pressure point therapy and lunar energy alignment."
"Whatever they did, it worked," I laughed as Rook slid into the water with none of his usual vigilance. "I've never seen you without that scowl before."
"I don't scowl," Rook protested, then immediately scowled.
