TWENTY-EIGHT

Zarek

I walked into our room and saw Leora crouched on the bed, rocking her body looking at the tablet Kabir gave her. She scratched her head and tapped on the screen.

"Yes!" She pumped her fist in the air.

"What are you up to?"

She jolted and her head whipped up.

"God! Make some sounds at least."

"I did," I laughed and sat beside her, "Now, what are you up to?"

I kissed her exposed shoulder. She was wearing a black tank top with gray shorts.

"Studying for the written test. Who knew I'd be a student again at almost thirty?"

I swiped the tablet from her grasp and couldn't help but admire the screen flashing her near-perfect score. Leora, with her razor-sharp mind, had been tangled up in knots over the online exam scheduled for tomorrow. Earlier, I'd taken it upon myself to ease some of that tension, worshiping her with my lips, drawing deep, shuddering breaths as I savored her pussy. Later, I'd left her wrapped in the sheets, her textbooks spread around her like a fortress as she buried herself in study.

"Look at you! Your score is near perfect, Mi Corazón," I kissed her cheek. She took the tablet back and studied the screen.

"I need it to be perfect, not near perfect. Plus there's a whole list of military slang I still need to learn," she frowned animatedly and chanted in a low voice, "Copy. Got your six. Tango Mike…"

I laughed as she continued with a bunch of weird gibberish that even I hadn't heard.

"You googled it, didn't you?" I grabbed her waist and rose above her. Then I pinned her down and caged her with my hands. The tablet fell out of her hands and she cupped my face with them.

"Why are you so fucking beautiful?" She pouted, "Look at those damn dark brown eyes. Ugh. And these lips, even I don't have such luscious lips. And those lashes. You're putting all women who do eyelash extensions to shame. It's like you—"

I stopped her rant, putting my lips on hers.

She thought I was beautiful?

I briefly thought about taking her to the bathroom to show her how beautiful she looked in the mirror. I broke our lips apart and gave her a breathless smile.

"You're beautiful, through and through, Leora. Your smile, your eyes, your mind, your strength, your confidence. Everything is beyond what I deserve."

She flashed me a triumphant grin, her happiness infectious. I leaned in, capturing her lips again, my tongue eagerly seeking hers. A groan slipped from me as she shifted, sinking deeper into the pillows and giving me easier access. I teased her lips gently, drawing a playful tug from her in response.

Suddenly, a torrent of unwelcome images flooded my mind, slicing through the haze of desire. The intensity was too sharp, too familiar to brush aside. My brow furrowed as I battled the intrusion, mentally shoving the memories away, but they clung stubbornly.

Leora's hands stilled, her breath catching as our lips parted. The confusion in her eyes as they met mine told me she'd seen the shadow cross my face.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, "It's nothing."

"Tell me, Zarek. You look like you've swallowed gasoline."

I reluctantly smirked to lighten the mood, "How would you know what that looks like?"

Her gaze didn't waver.

"Tell me," she urged gently.

My focus was a blur; I shook my head slightly, attempting to clear the fog of memory. "Years ago," I began, the words tumbling out with a tremor, "we were a squad of six."

Leora's hand found mine, her touch a silent encouragement to continue.

"Maxton ‘Psyche' Prescott," I said, the name bringing a lump to my throat. "He was an exceptional interrogator, though his combat skills… they could have used some work." I paused, the past suddenly too present. "He didn't make it back from a mission in Egypt. An American archaeology team had been at tacked, and we were sent for a covert rescue. But politics were tense, and we walked into an ambush. Kabir barely made it out, and we… we lost Max."

I drew in a shaky breath, feeling the old weight of guilt and grief pressing down on me. "Just now, it all came rushing back. I saw flashes—visions of this mission going wrong. Dylan bleeding out, Logan's body burnt, Amelia in pain, Kabir shot right before my eyes." My voice broke as I confessed, "It's the same nightmare that haunted me after Max's death. And when Zavier… when I lost him, it all turned into real fear."

Unable to bear the weight of her gaze, I moved away and buried my head in my hands, overwhelmed.

"Zarek, look at me," Leora's voice was firm, her hands steady on my back, tracing comforting lines along my spine.

But I couldn't. I just couldn't lift my head, not yet, not while the ghost of those old fears clung to me so tightly.

"Please, look at me," she urged and I couldn't deny that pained voice. I looked at her expecting sympathy or maybe even blame. But her eyes shined with a strange resolve. She managed a small smile and said the words I needed to hear.

"Fear only shows us what we care about, Zarek. You care about them, it's very evident. But know that you're also cared for. I care for you. Your squad cares for you. And we fear for you too. I can't give you empty promises and say nothing will happen. So, feel the fear, Zarek. Feel it, and let it guide you."

Her words found their place deeper in my soul than I thought. Fear was care. Fear was love. And I loved this little family I had. I loved Leora. Fear was having to lose them. Having them lose me. Leora hadn't pacified me. She hadn't rejected my fear. In fact, she asked me to feel it. She made me allow myself to feel it. And in that moment, I knew I had to tell her. Tell her that she was also feared for. Cared for. And loved.

"There was a time, Leora. When I thought I couldn't have anybody fearing for me. And it wasn't too long ago either. That time ended the day a woman dressed in a denim jacket came to my rescue and beat up the bad guys. It was when she willfully showed me she wanted me, unapologetically. It took me a while to realize that I could want her too. Hell, I really wanted to not want her, crave her, love her," I cupped her cheeks, "But it's too late now, Mi Corazón. "

With trembling lips, she let out a ragged breath, her eyes blinking back tears.

She finally whispered, "I'm falling in love with you too."

I smiled widely at her, "Sweetheart, I'm so far down from falling in love with you, I'll need you to catch up to me."

Laughing softly even as her tears wet her cheeks, she pressed her lips to mine. I deepened the kiss instinctively, my hands cradling her neck. She was my everything, my all. I had fought so hard to keep this distance, to stay away, but in this moment, all that resistance seemed pointless. I knew, now, that I'd rather drown in her, be consumed by her presence, than wander in a world without her light. As I kissed her, the lingering fear dissolved. Each stroke of my tongue, a commitment. Each nibble, a prayer. Each breath, a vow .

Leora

By the time the sun set, I had finished two more mock tests. My score kept decreasing by a few points every time and I was mildly pissed. The landline in the room rang.

"Mateez," I said.

"Hello, Leora," a woman's voice echoed, "This is Greta from the reception. I was told to inform you that your team has assembled in the lounge for a cocktail dinner. We're sending you a dress and your presence is requested in thirty minutes."

"Okay. Thank you, Greta."

Just as I hung up, there was a knock at the door. I climbed out of the bed and opened it. A woman in her forties slid in with a black garment bag, a box that I assumed had shoes, and a makeup bag.

"Thank you," I murmured.

She left and I opened the bag to see a beautiful plain black dress. It had a halter neck and flared below the knee.

There were also black strappy sandals with a low two-inch heel. Having barely worn heels in my whole life, I eyed them suspiciously.

I sighed and headed to the shower. After cleaning myself up, I slipped into the dress and heels, and walked over to the full length mirror.

Damn, you clean up good, Leora Mateez.

I had always worn clothes that were more boyish. Most of my wardrobe back in Toronto consisted of cargo pants, sweatpants, hoodies, and denim. I was pretty sure I had a dress or two cooped up somewhere in there, but I hardly wore them.

I couldn't help but smile at my reflection. I was definitely liking the look, and driving Zarek a bit insane wouldn't hurt, either.

I put on some light makeup and headed to the lounge. I was told it was on the second floor, right above the rooms. As I walked into the lounge, I took in the beautiful decor. Much like the rooms, the lounge had dark teal walls with gold accents. The clusters of suede black couches cut through the color, and I immediately spotted a large black marble dining table with golden legs surrounded by twelve golden chairs. The room emanated effortless wealth. Maybe Alpha one needs to contact Blackthorn's interior designer.

I saw Kabir and Amelia talking to each other and laughing in one corner, with flutes in their hands. Amelia wore a beautiful strapless red dress, showing off her toned arms and her huge falcon neck tattoo. Sitting on one of the large couches were Dylan, Sebastian and Delara. Zarek was chatting with Zane and Logan sat at the bar looking bored. All the men wore dark coloured suits and looked good in them. Hell, they looked irresistible in them.

Zarek had his back towards me when Zane's eyes turned and locked with mine. He smiled and signaled Zarek to turn.

It was almost as though all the air left his body. He didn't move, didn't breathe for a good few seconds and finally took a deep breath. His eyes wandered over my dress that hugged all my curves in the best way, and a sultry smile took over his lips. He strode towards me, his steps determined. I closed the distance too, meeting him halfway .

His arms snaked my waist and his lips brushed my ears.

"You're a temptress, Mi Corazón," Zarek whispered, "Trying to drive me wild?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong, Mr. Rivera?" My voice was husky with pure desire.

"Fuck, don't call me that right now," he leaned back to face me. His eyes tracing each part of my face.

"Did I make a mistake again?" I smirked.

"Yes, and you will be punished, Dr. Mateez."

"Oh, is that so? How will you be punishing me?"

"Well, I have a few ideas—"

A throat clearing caught our attention. We both turned and saw Logan wiggling his brows. I was pretty sure both Zarek and I rolled our eyes.

"Leo, you look stunning," Logan walked up to me and almost snatched me away from Zarek and kissed my cheek. I heard Zarek growl.

Zarek snatched me back and tucked me against his chest.

" Mine ," He scowled.

"Territorial ass," Logan whined.

I stepped out of both their vicinity, "Let me go meet the others…cavemen."

I blew Zarek a playful kiss before drifting over to join Dylan, Sebastian, and Delara. As I settled in beside them, they chimed in with warm welcomes, complimenting my outfit. Dylan stayed silent, but his slight nod spoke volumes. I was beginning to appreciate his quiet nature more and more.

"So, Sebastian," I ventured with a curious tilt of my head, "I heard Dylan calls you Seb. You guys go way back?"

Sebastian chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. Dylan cracked a rare smile, and I felt like I'd won some secret prize.

"Yeah, we go way back," Sebastian confirmed. "Dylan was my next-door neighbor after I moved when I was fifteen. We ended up at the same high school and later shared a lot of miserable days in military training."

Dylan picked up the thread, "And yeah, Seb here was always either saving my ass or getting us into trouble. Good times."

Sebastian threw a glance toward Logan, who was deep in conversation across the room. "Logan was my partner for a few training scenarios back in the day. Always pushing the limits, that one."

I leaned in, intrigued by the camaraderie. "So, you guys all served together? With Logan and Zarek too?"

"Not exactly," Sebastian clarified, swirling the drink in his hand. "I ended up in PAG, the Political Action Group, mostly dealing with intelligence and diplomatic cover. These brutes," he gestured at Dylan and then broadly around the room, "stuck with the Special Ops Group. More direct action."

"Interesting," I mused, tapping my fingers on the table. "Then what's your beef with Logan?"

Sebastian eyed me with a slight squint and got up, "That…is a story for another time. And also, not my story to tell. Another round people?"

He looked around the group and their empty flutes. When we all nodded, he stalked off to find another champagne bottle.

"Thanks, Zane. I owe you," I heard Zarek as he walked towards us smiling.

"I'm going to steal my woman for a bit, folks," he said and held his hand out to me. I put my flute on the table next to me and slid my hand in his.

He walked us towards the lounge exit and then took us to an elevator.

"Where are we going?" I whispered, as though we were doing something questionable.

He gave me his most handsome smile, "Shopping."

He swiped a watch near the biometrics screen and the elevators opened up. My eyes widened, "Didn't this have like an ultra pro super uber security?"

He laughed, "I have my ways. Or rather Zane does. This is his watch."

My jaw dropped as he pressed ‘-4'.

I was trailing close behind Zarek as we veered off the path to the command center, taking a left where I expected a right. A bulky man blocked a nondescript door, eyeing us with clear suspicion.

As Zarek stepped forward to pass, the guard extended a firm hand, stopping him in his tracks. Zarek's glare was met with an equally stern look from the guard.

"Your business?" the man's voice was gruff, a stark contrast to his youthful face. Despite his shorter stature, his broad shoulders gave him a formidable presence.

They sized each other up in silence, the tension thick—then, unexpectedly, both their faces broke into wide grins.

What the hell?

The guard yanked Zarek into a rough, brotherly hug, slapping his back with a booming laugh. "Zarek Rivera! Heard you were back in town."

Zarek clapped him on the shoulder, the irritation melted away by genuine warmth. "Ronan, too long, man," he responded, his voice filled with a mix of joy and relief.

They separated, and Ronan's curious eyes landed on me. "And this must be the famous Dr. Leora Mateez. Never thought I'd see the day Zarek take the fall."

I offered a polite smile, correcting him gently, "Just Leora, please. Nice to meet you… Ronan?"

"Ronan Hayden," he extended his hand, which I shook. "Was in the CIA with Zarek, though we ran in different circles."

I nodded, taking in the connection. Zarek's expression suddenly shifted to something more somber. "Ronan, about your sister, Riley—I should've reached out sooner…"

Ronan's easy demeanor tightened for a moment, a shadow passing over his features. I realized what a small world this was. Riley Hayden was part of Alpha squad 2 and passed away during a mission almost two months ago.

"It's okay, man. You know? It's still very fresh. Dad has been a mess. I told Riley not to join the bloody Bridgewood experimental teams," Ronan paused, "How's uh…Dylan?"

"He's okay," Zarek flattened his lips and nodded.

"Anyway," Ronan shook his head, "What can I help with?"

"Here for some shopping," Zarek gave him a small smile.

"Shop away, my friend," Ronan stepped aside and opened the door for us.

As soon as I entered I gasped. All the walls were lined with backlit shelves, containing guns, rifles and tactical gear that I didn't even have the names for .

"Zane will take care of your licensing. Let's shop, baby."

His hand found the small of my back and he guided me through the massive armory.

"What are we here to shop for? I guess I'm not taking an assault rifle back to the room."

Zarek laughed, "A handgun. We'll get you a nice handgun."

"What do you have?"

"SIG Sauer M17."

"Then that's what I'll get," I smiled up at him.

"There's an M18 as well. It's smaller in size, but basically has all the same specifications. It'll fit these pretty hands of yours," he entwined his hand with mine and kissed me softly.

"Never thought I'd be kissing someone surrounded by guns."

We shared a laugh, our kisses deepening, as he led me through the rifles section, enthusiastically sharing details—many of which I was already familiar with from my training sessions with Logan. Spotting the rifle model I had been using, a surge of excitement rushed through me and I couldn't help but let out a delighted squeal.

Together, we picked up an M18 along with a belt holster and three extra magazines, just to be on the safe side. After dropping our gear off in our room, we made our way back, ready to rejoin the lively atmosphere of the dinner party.