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Too close. He was too close.
Too. Close.
My skin prickled with awareness. His body warmed mine from my breasts to my thighs, and his hot male scent filled my nostrils.
I closed my eyes, but that made it worse. Now he was all around me. Zaq—everywhere.
And I wanted more.
More heat.
More scent.
More touching. Because paradoxically, he was both too close and not close enough.
Zaq set his hand on the wall beside my head. I opened my eyes—and got lost in his green-and-gold irises. He had a dark, almost black line around the outside.
What were we talking about?
Trust. Right.
I brought my focus from his eyes to his nose. Filled my lungs with air and expelled it again.
And with regret, turned back into a slayer.
I slipped under his arm and put some space between us. “Fine. You don’t have to trust me, but you do have to work with me.”
He faced me. “I came back, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but…” I tightened my jaw and decided to save my breath. Arguing with him would get me nowhere; he clearly intended to do whatever he thought best. I’d just have to make sure he didn’t give me the slip again.
“I took some cash and a switchblade,” he said. “I bought a burner phone and some minutes, but I haven’t used it yet. And no, you can’t have the phone—and no, it’s not on me. I hid it before I showed myself to you.”
Okay, that was honest. “Fair enough.”
“And I found the tranquilizer.”
“Standard procedure. I had to be sure.” I sounded defensive, even to myself. Still, it was the truth.
Zaq’s nostrils flared. He took a step closer.
“Fuck your procedure. I’m willing to work with you because I need you and because I don’t want to be glancing over my shoulder everywhere I go, wondering if and when you’ll catch up to me. But you tranq me again and I will make you hurt, understand?”
All the spit left my mouth. Goosebumps popped up on my arms, and I had to fight the urge to back up.
Even after nine years and thousands of hours of training, an angry vampire still made me uneasy, and right then my brain didn’t see much difference between Zaq and a vampire.
My fingers flexed at my sides. I wanted the comfort of my blades, but I suspected that would only piss him off more.
And I wasn’t afraid of him. Not really.
The fear was a primitive reflex, a throwback to the twelve-year-old who hadn’t been able to fight back.
I dipped my chin in a terse nod. “Understood.”
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he shut his eyes, shook his head. Angry at both himself and me.
And don’t ask how I knew—I just did.
