Failure that had ended with me being caged and drugged, left alone in the dark with no hope of ever seeing the daylight again. I could still smell the musty scent that had lingered in the basement of the compound, feel the chains that had bound me when I’d been moved to the secret warehouse.
“Layla?”
A shudder rolled through me as I reminded myself I wasn’t in that cage anymore. I opened my eyes and forced those dark thoughts out of my head.
“I appreciate you saying that. You’re right. What they did to me was wrong. I get that they thought I was the one causing trouble around the compound—heck, even I thought I was a danger to everyone, but they went too far.”
My words kind of surprised me. I’d always defended Abbot, but I couldn’t make excuses for his actions or those of the majority of my clan. All the soul-searching I’d done after waking up from the blow, the wound delivered to me in front of Abbot, had changed who I was at the very core. There was no doubt about that. “They acted as the jury with some really crappy circumstantial evidence, and then they became the judge and the executioner. I could’ve died. I would’ve died if it hadn’t been for Dez—and by the way, how much trouble are he and Nicolai in?”
Dez and Nicolai had risked everything by alerting Roth to what was happening. If they hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have been sitting here right now.
Zayne’s lashes lowered as his expression contorted. “At first, there were talks of casting them out,” he said, and I sucked in a breath. Casting them out meant they’d be disowned from the clan, which was horrible enough for a single male, but Dez had a mate and two little babies. “But once we realized that it was Petr wreaking havoc around the house, Abbot began to see the light. Nicolai and Dez are safe.”
With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten that Zayne had told me they’d discovered Petr’s wraith, caught on camera. Relief coursed through me. I’d... I’d killed the young Warden in self-defense when he attacked me, carrying out his father’s orders. Elijah. Who’d also turned out to be my real father, so that meant Petr, who’d been the worst kind of boy there was, was my half brother. That still sickened me. Since I’d sucked out Petr’s soul, he’d become a wraith.
“You could’ve died, too. I could’ve taken your whole soul,” I continued, keeping my voice low. That was the gift my mother, Lilith, had left me with—the wonderful ability to suck out souls with a single kiss. Anyone who had one was in danger if they got anywhere near my mouth, which up until recently had put a real damper on the whole dating business.
But then Roth had shown up, and as a demon, he was in the no-soul category. At first, I’d loathed his very existence, and looking back, it had a lot to do with how his words and actions made me question everything the Wardens had taught me. By nature, demons weren’t something you’d invite in for dinner, but not all of them were the wretched creatures I’d been conditioned to abhor to a near-fanatical degree. They had their purpose, too. Every second I’d spent with Roth, I’d fallen a little harder for him, and I’d shared so much with him before he’d sacrificed himself to save Zayne from the fiery pits of Hell. I’d thought I’d lost him then, but he’d returned—only things had been different between us when he had. Roth had distanced himself, to protect me.
To shield me from Abbot.
Then there was everything that had happened with Zayne. I’d been raised with him, spent years idolizing and loving him from afar. For the longest time, he’d been my everything, but he’d been a Warden and I’d only been half Warden—and worse, half demon. Between his soul and my genetic background, he’d been off-limits. A friendship with him, the bond we shared, had been a glimpse of a future that every female Warden was assured of but that was never on the table for me. That knowledge had done nothing to stop my growing feelings, and when Roth had returned from the pits, pushing me away, he’d pushed me right into the arms of Zayne, the boy I never thought would return my affections.
I’d been wrong about that.
I’d been wrong about a lot of things.
Zayne’s eyes flew open. “But you didn’t.”
“Barely.” That pressure returned, weighing on me as I felt again the horror of the night I realized I’d been feeding on Zayne instead of...instead of kissing him back. “I can see where I’ve taken some. I can tell in your aura.”
“I’m fine—”
“No thanks to me. The only reason I’d been able to...to kiss you before then was because of Bambi. When she was on me, I could control my abilities.” I slipped my hand free, pressing my lips together as I shook my head. “You can’t overlook what I did to you, and I know you can’t be a hundred percent okay.”
Zayne stared at me, and then he lifted his hand, thrusting his fingers through his hair. “You stopped in time. Other than feeling a little tired and...grumpier than normal, I am fine, Layla-bug.”
My heart squeezed at the use of my nickname. “Grumpier than normal?”
His brows knitted and for a moment, I didn’t think he was going to answer. “My temper is easier to ignite nowadays. I don’t know if that has to do with what happened between us or if it’s the natural result of everything else going on lately.”
I think I knew the answer to that. When someone’s soul was stripped away, even a tiny piece, it changed who they were in some way. Maybe it made some more prone to mood swings, others more reckless and others violent.
And apparently for Zayne, he’d lost a bit of his kindness, a little of what made him absolutely wonderful, and I had done that to him. While it hadn’t been on purpose, neither of us, especially me, had shown any level of common sense by trying to be together. Neither of us had delved too deeply into why all of a sudden I could do things like kissing without taking a soul.
Then again, as Zayne had pointed out once, there was a lot more that we could’ve done that hadn’t involved our mouths touching.
Strangely, sitting across from him, I realized I didn’t feel the longing to feed. It was the first that I’d noticed its absence. Since my clan had turned on me, I’d been staying with Roth and Cayman, and as neither owned a soul, I hadn’t even thought about feeding on one—something that I’d spent seventeen years fighting the urge to do.
Now, though I was once again surrounded by souls, the urge simply wasn’t there.
Maybe today’s events had shocked me bad enough that even that was affected.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally, flipping my gaze to the street beyond the window. It was the second week of December, and the skies above Washington, DC, were gray and the wind brisk, carrying the scent of snow in the air. “I’m so sorry, Zayne.”
“Don’t apologize,” he was quick to say. “Don’t ever apologize to me. I don’t regret anything that happened between us. Not a moment.”
Did I?
“Anyway, it’s not me I want to talk about. Are you okay?” he asked. “What they did—”
“I’m fine,” I said, and it felt like a lie. “I was healed by the witches. You know, the ones who worship Lilith. They gave Cayman something for me to drink and it worked.” Which reminded me of the fact that Cayman had to promise something in return and none of us knew what bargain he’d struck yet. “I have no idea what they gave me.”