LITMIR.BIZ

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the doors. “I’m just obviously not very graceful.”

      Nicolai didn’t respond and—thank baby Jesus and cuddly angels—the front door opened. Careful not to step through an unexpected hole in the floor, I set my bag down just inside the door and hurried upstairs to my bedroom.

      Good news. I didn’t fall down the stairs and Bambi had decided to get off my face and was now back to curling around my body.

      Traffic and my impromptu face-plant outside had made me late to meet Zayne, but as I toed off my boots, I wasn’t sure how focused on training I’d be considering there seemed to be a wire suddenly missing in my brain.

      Why couldn’t I see souls? And what did that mean?

      I needed to tell someone—I would tell Zayne, but not his father. I didn’t trust Abbot so much anymore. Not since discovering that he’d known all along who my mother and father were. And I was pretty sure he didn’t 100 percent trust my rosy-red behind either.

      I dragged a pair of sweats and a T-shirt out from my dresser and tossed them on the bed. Padding around my room in my socks, I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled my sweater off over my head. Static crackled in my loose hair, causing thin wisps to stand up around my head. Zayne would know what to do. Since Roth—

      My bedroom door flew open and Zayne burst in. “Nicolai told me—holy Christ.”

      I froze by the bed, my eyes increasing to the size of spaceships. Holy balls. My sweater was still wrapped around one arm, but I was wearing nothing else but my bra—my black bra—and my jeans, which were half-unbuttoned. Not sure why the color of my bra made a difference, but I stood there, my mouth gaping.

      Zayne had come to a standstill, and like with Nicolai, I saw no pearly glow surrounding him. But at the moment I was more preoccupied with what Zayne did see: me, standing in front of him in my bra—my black bra.

      His beautiful blue eyes were wide, the pupils slightly vertical. His wavy blond hair, which he’d chopped off recently, was still long enough to frame broad cheekbones. His full lips were parted.

      For ten years, I’d grown up with Zayne by my side. He was four years older than me and I’d idolized him like any little sister would, but nothing I’d felt for Zayne, at least not in the past couple of years, had been sisterly. I’d wanted him ever since I was old enough to appreciate rock-hard abs on a dude.

      But Zayne had been and would always be off-limits to me.

      He was a full-blooded Warden and although I couldn’t see his soul right now, I knew he had one and it was pure. And while he’d had no problem getting überclose with me in the past, a relationship with anyone with a soul would be too dangerous considering I’d turn them into a soul-flavored Slurpee.

      And his father expected him to mate with Danika.

      Blech.

      Right in that moment though, his potential baby-making future with Danika seemed far removed from this room. Zayne was staring at me as if he’d never truly seen me before, and I honestly couldn’t think of a time he’d seen me in even a bathing suit, let alone a bra. I tried not to think about the red polka-dot undies peeking out from behind the gap in my jeans.

      And then I realized what he was staring at.

      A flush raced across my cheeks and then followed his gaze down my neck and lower. I could feel Bambi’s tail twitching along my spine. She was curled around my waist, with her long neck stretched up between my breasts. Her head rested on the swell of my right breast as if it was her own personal pillow, right below where my necklace hung.

      Zayne’s gaze tracked the length of the tattoo, and I cringed as the flush deepened. What must he be thinking at the sight of Bambi so blatantly on display, a blunt reminder of how different I was from him? I didn’t want to know.

      He took a step forward and stopped again as his stare traveled up with enough intensity to feel like a physical caress. Something shifted in me, and the embarrassment faded into heady warmth. A heaviness settled in my chest, and muscles low in my stomach clenched.

      I knew I needed to put my sweater back on or at least attempt to cover myself, but there was something in the way he stared at me that held me immobile and I...I wanted him to see me.

      To see I wasn’t the little girl hiding in the closet anymore.

      “God,” he said, speaking finally in a voice that was a deep, low rumble. “You’re beautiful, Layla. A gift.”

      My heart did a backflip, but my ears had to also be on the fritz, because I know that wasn’t what he’d just said. In the past he’d called me pretty, but never beautiful—never a gift. Not with my hair so pale it could be considered white or the fact that I sort of looked like a demented Kewpie doll, my eyes and mouth way too big for my face. I mean, I wasn’t fugly or anything, but I wasn’t Danika. She was all glossy black hair, tall and graceful limbs. She was stunning.

      I’d just fallen out of a car minutes ago and could seriously pass as an albino from a distance.

      “What?” I whispered, folding my arms—sweater and all—over my stomach.

      He shook his head side to side as he walked—no, stalked—toward me, each step full of purpose and with an inherent grace a dancer would be envious of. “You’re beautiful,” he said, eyes a brilliant, luminous shade of blue. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

      “You haven’t, but I’m n—”

      “Don’t say you’re not.” His gaze dipped once more to where Bambi’s head rested, and air leaked out between my parted lips. For once, the demonic familiar didn’t move. “Because you are, Layla. You’re beautiful.”

      Thank you formed on the tip of my tongue, because it seemed like the right thing to say, but the words died when he lifted a hand. The strap of my bra had slipped down my upper arm and he scooped two fingers beneath it. His skin grazed mine, and a fine shiver coursed throughout my body.

      A strange surge of possessiveness hit me. A need to claim him, so deep and so hard that it made my knees weak and my breath catch in my throat. As he slid the strap up my arm, his fingers brushed over my skin, and the yearning was so entrenched that I knew it was mine, but something about it was foreign. A hunger that I felt, but...

      His gaze collided with mine, and now his pupils were completely vertical. My mouth dried and for a wild second, I thought he might kiss me. Every muscle in my body tensed, causing Bambi’s tail to flicker over my spine. A thousand fantasies, and I’d had many of them when it came to Zayne, couldn’t have prepared me for this moment. Zayne...he meant the world to me and before Roth—

       Roth.

      Air hitched in my throat at the thought of the golden-eyed demon. The image of him formed easily in my mind—hair as dark as obsidian, cheekbones high and angular, lips curved in a knowing smirk that had infuriated and excited me.

      How could I be standing here with Zayne, wanting him to kiss me—because I did want that—when I’d just lost Roth?

      But I never really had Roth and kissing Zayne was impossible.

      With what appeared to be a great effort, he tore his gaze away and glanced over his shoulder. Dear Lordie Lord, the door was open. Anyone could’ve walked by and seen me standing there. In my bra—my black bra.

      Heat swamped my face again as I stepped back and hurriedly dragged my sweater back over my head. I turned away, smoothing my hands over my static-filled hair. My face felt as though I’d been basking in the sun during a solar storm and I had no idea what to say as I fixed my jeans with shaky fingers.

      Zayne cleared his throat, but when he spoke, his voice was still deeper and rougher than normal. “I guess I probably should’ve knocked, huh?”

      Counting to ten, I turned around and forced a casual shrug. He was still staring at me as though I hadn’t put a sweater on. “I do that

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