5. Zachariah

CHAPTER 5

Zachariah

I slide into the tux the king's personal tailors crafted for me as stoically as if I'm slipping on a shield of armor.

And the need for that armor has nothing to do with the mission at hand, despite its severity, and everything to do with the female intent on slicing into me every chance she gets.

She has every right to. Hell, she could actually sink a dagger into my chest and I would tell her I understand.

I deserve nothing less than her hatred, her scorn, but it's my fool's heart that's clinging to the hope of reconciliation.

My mark may have faded from her skin, but she was my mate in another life—the only life that ever mattered to me. And now that we're working together, sleeping close to each other, living under the same roof, it feels like no time has passed at all.

She may have hardened over the centuries—understandably—crafting herself into this incredibly astounding lethal huntress, but she's still Talia. She's still the female I fell for the second I saw those lilac eyes, those full lips shaping the softest, most kissable smile, her laugh ringing in my ears like music after centuries of dead quiet.

"Are you sure you don't need backup?" Ajax asks as he comes through the door to my chambers.

I finish adjusting my tie, spinning around and walking past him out the door and down the hallway.

"I'm sure," I say, nodding as Talon falls into step with Ajax behind me. "The demon king is already going to be there criticizing and calculating every single one of our moves. And the place will be crawling with humans, better to be discreet."

"Okay," Ajax says at the same time Talon says, "So about Talia?—"

I stop walking, glancing over my shoulder at my brothers. "That's not up for discussion," I say, then continue walking, pausing and the foyer when I spot Dago backing away from a very pregnant Olivia, her mate, Ransom, not two steps behind her with an imploring and apologetic look on his face.

Olivia points at Dagon. "You have to test her," she snaps. "You have no idea what's going on in that bathtub."

Dagon smirks at the pregnant vampire. "As much as I would love to hear about your niece's adventures in the bathing chamber, there are more pressing issues at hand."

"And there are plenty of other hunters to do it!" Olivia fires back as Ransom slides in front of her to put himself between her and Dagon. Honestly, it looks like he's protecting Dagon from his mate rather than vice versa. "You are the only one with elemental powers?—"

"That doesn't put me at your disposal," Dagon says, shaking his head. "Shouldn't you be resting? What do you have left, like four months?"

"You are absolutely unbelievable!"

"Should I stop time for this?" Ajax asks from my left, and I shake my head.

"If she lays him on his ass, he's earned it," Talon adds.

I blow out a sigh, often feeling like the king's residence is sometimes the equivalent of a modern-day frat house.

"Darling, you really should be laying down, or eating," Ransom says, drawing her attention.

"I'm always laying down or eating?—"

"Eating?" Talia's voice cuts over the scene as she comes around the corner looking absolutely exquisite in a black sparkling dress. "I just walked by the dining room, and the chefs put out an incredible spread. I'm pretty sure I saw an extra batch of muffins in there too."

"Pumpkin or blueberry?" Olivia asks.

"Pumpkin," Talia answers.

Olivia glares at Dagon, shooting him a look that screams we're not finished with this , and then smiles at Talia before heading in the direction of the dining room. Ransom bows to Talia as if she's just saved his life, before chasing after his mate.

"Saved by a pumpkin muffin," Dagon says to Talia. "Never thought I'd see the day when you'd protect me," he teases, and a hint of nostalgia hits me. She used to be so close to all of us.

"With the way you all are behaving," she says, smiling at him and then Ajax and Talon. "I fear I may be saving you all so much you'll have to put me on the payroll."

"I'm sure we can arrange that," I say smoothly.

Talia locks eyes with me, and it's all I can do not to drop to my knees instantly. She's so damn gorgeous, her toned body covered in delicate silk that looks like it would be so easy to strip it from her and spend the rest of the evening worshipping every single inch in a way we'd never been allowed to before.

"Shouldn't we be going?" Talia asks, her tone so much sharper than it'd been with Dagon, snapping me out of my thoughts.

" We definitely should," Ajax says, smacking Talon and nodding to Dagon before they leave yet another awkward situation.

I offer her my arm. "Tonight's event is a silent auction at Edgemont Museum," I explain. "Xavier assured me Conrad will be there. I can wend us in."

"If I could wend myself there, I would," she says before timidly stepping toward me.

"Of course," I say, doing my best to keep my words short lest I upset her further. I know she's telling the truth too. Despite her age, only a few of us can wend as far as I can, and if I wait too much longer, she might simply wend in small distances over and over again until she gets to the museum without me.

She loops her arm through mine and blows out of breath. "Any time now."

I sigh and wrap both of us in magic, folding us through time and space, the clear vision of Edgemont's prestigious museum in my mind.

We arrive on the opposite street of the museum, appearing too fast for the other museum goers to notice.

The place is lit up with golden lights, the beams illuminating the column sandstone structure that looks like something straight out of my time. Humans dressed in their finest climb the dozen or so stairs to the entrance of the museum, light music sounding from the interior. There are limos going to and from the museum, dropping off billionaires and celebrities. Reporters flash their cameras as if capturing one image will be enough to fulfill their life purpose.

"Modern times," I say, eying the huddle of reporters that look like a pack of hyenas desperate for a bite. "Some things I will never get used to."

Talia looks up at me curiously, her arm still looped through mine. "Huh," she says, motioning to the museum. "I wouldn't trade all the technology and good food and social progress for anything."

"You've certainly adjusted well," I say, dragging my eyes down the length of her body. "That dress is exquisite on you. The slit certainly isn't something I would've seen on you before."

The slit travels high in the fabric, stopping just below her hip, showing off a delicious, tempting peek of her bare thigh. It's all I can do to keep my fangs from punching out, my instincts roaring to bite, claim, fuck .

She's not yours to do that to anymore.

She never was.

"Cassandra loaned it to me," she responds as we walk across the street and up the steps to the museum. "The slit will definitely make it easier to fight compared to those awful constricting gowns I used to wear. Of course, if I had to choose, I'd prefer my leathers."

"You will not be fighting here," I say beneath my breath as we are welcomed into the museum, the massive space of the main floor converted into a proper display for countless rare items that are now up for silent auction. "We have to be discreet. We don't want to draw attention and miss our chance at securing Conrad."

"You think I don't know how important this is?" she asks. "You've been on this mission for two nights, but I've been on it for six months ."

"And have you ever been this close before?"

"I have, actually," she snaps. "More than you know." She glares up at me, dropping her arm from mine as she circles a small display case with a ridiculously elaborate ruby necklace inside of it. "But I didn't have the demon king on my contact list either." She hisses at me like an angry kitten.

I smile, unable to prevent it. She's always been fiery, but this modern timeline has unleashed it, freed it in a way it never would've been allowed before. My blood heats beneath my skin, instincts screaming at me that we need to fight this out.

Fight and reconcile and fuck, complete the bond I know still connects us, even if it's faded.

"We can certainly remedy that," Xavier's voice is drenched in seduction as the demon king slides next to Talia on her other side, his eyes barely grazing her before focusing on the necklace in the case. "I'm always on the hunt for new friends."

I immediately step between them, self-preservation be damned. "She doesn't need you as her friend," I say, just barely holding my fangs back.

Xavier smiles at me, nothing but intrigue on his face. "Ooh, those old mating instincts chafing a bit?"

"This is so not what we're here for," Talia says, not showing even a hint of intimidation despite the presence of the demon king. "And I have no interest in territorial displays," she says, and I know the words are just for me because Xavier has barely given her a second glance, his comments and taunts specifically for me.

She moves on to the next display case, leaving both of us behind without a second glance.

Xavier laughs. "Are you two going to be able to focus on this mission at all? Or should I do you both a favor and just hand-deliver the one you seek?"

"This is our mission," I say. "Our call. And we all know your favors come with an extreme cost."

"Everything in life comes with a cost, it doesn't make me a monster." Xavier looks down at me with equal parts boredom and disappointment. "He's here, by the way. Good luck."

He saunters the other direction, drawing the eyes of half the human women in the room, most of which blush or giggle as he walks by.

I return my attention to Talia, who is looking at a display case, a man approaching her left side.

"This statue is over two centuries old," the man says, and I hang back, watching the exchange. "Did you know that?"

Talia smiles up at the man, who looks like any other mortal—tall, brown hair and eyes—still, she's giving him attention in a way that makes my eyes switch thermal. I close them for a moment to try and get a fucking grip.

"I did," she answers.

"You do look like a clever woman," he says, not bothering to hide the fact that he's checking her out.

Power ignites in my blood as I pluck one gift out of a thousand, mentally gripping the one that controls metal. I could bring the chandelier above him down atop his head, subduing him in seconds.

"I try," Talia says, her calm tone drawing me out of my murderous thoughts.

"I'd love to see more of that cleverness," he continues. "Why don't you join me for a drink after the silent auction?"

The fucking balls on this guy. Hitting on my mate?—

Not your mate.

Fucking hell. I hold myself absolutely still, not at all confident that if I move toward them I won't send him flying across the room on principle.

"I'm here with someone," she says, and the fire inside me cools slightly. "But thank you."

"Hmm," he says, tilting his head. "I would've pegged you for a woman who likes to fly solo."

She shrugs, her kind smile starting to edge with irritation.

"If you change your mind," he continues, moving away. "I'll be around." He disappears into the crowd, and I finally take a breath.

I catch up with Talia, who's keen eyes are now scanning the room for her target in a way that's so familiar to my own hunter unit.

Gone is the soft, pliable female I used to know, the one who laughed freely, and danced so demurely at her family's parties that seemed endless. She's been replaced with the strong, formidable, fearless female, the combination of the two versions of herself a perfect mixture I can't resist.

"That was an interesting exchange," I say once I reach her.

"It happens," she says. "Nothing to get riled over."

"Who says I'm riled?"

Talia smirks at me, trailing her finger over the line of my jaw. "This is certainly taut," she says, and I sigh at her soft touch.

She draws her hand back as I shift closer to her, bringing my lips to the shell of her ear.

"Xavier says Conrad is here," I whisper as she looks over a small, carved statue of a woman lying at rest.

"Do you remember him?" she asks, nodding toward the statue. "This is from his familial line. His late wife." She glances up at me.

"I remember him," I say, shaking my head. "I never liked him and I always thought his interest in you bordered on obsessive, but I never would've suspected this."

Talia sighs. "Xavier said he's been hunting heirlooms, correct?"

I nod. "Who told you?"

"I gathered as much," she answers. "I've tracked him all over the last six months. Wherever we go, it's always connected to one of the ancient noble families, and something always goes missing from their vaults. Any idea what he's doing with them? Did your friend give you a hint?"

"No," I answer. "But we should wait to move until he has it in his possession. After he bids on it to make sure this is the item he's after. Then we grab him without a scene. Agreed?"

"I'm not the one who causes scenes," she says. "You're the one who likes to grab unsuspecting females and wend them wherever you like."

"I do not grab unsuspecting females," I whisper, following her to the next display case, ensuring that we look like any other humans interested in the items. "I took you . My mate?—"

"Ex," she declares.

"I am sorry for wending you the other night, but I couldn't think straight. I was told you were dead. Then suddenly you're before me and we'd just eliminated a massive threat. I needed to protect you at all costs?—"

"I don't need your protection anymore, Zachariah," she cuts me off. The vigor in her tone draws a few eyes, and I gently grip her elbow and lead her away from the crowd to a small alcove attached to a stairwell.

"I'm well aware you don't need me, Talia," I say. "But I'm here. With you?—"

Talia's eyes widen at something behind me, drawing my gaze.

"Conrad," she whispers as I turn to see him heading this direction. "Shit, we have to move now. If he sees me, he'll bolt. He always does."

"We can't grab him now. We have to be certain about the item he's after so we can ascertain what exactly he's after?—"

"Goddammit," she groans, throwing her arms around my neck.

She presses her lips to mine, drawing me close.

It takes all of a second for the shock to wear off before my arms fold around her automatically, drawing her body flush against mine as I slant my mouth over hers.

I take control of the kiss, losing myself in the sensation of her lips against mine. Against the soft way she feels against every hard inch of me.

Fire ignites in a trail that grazes down my spine—every noise, every sound, every smell disappearing except for hers.

She gasps, her lips parting to let me in, my tongue exploring hers in a way I've craved for centuries. Her intoxicating scent of lavender and lemons filling my senses makes me ache for her so much it's painful.

I back her against the wall, tucking us farther into that alcove without ever breaking our kiss.

Her hands explore the back of my neck and the line of my jaw before grazing lower, over my chest until she fists my suit jacket. Then she's pulling me closer, kissing me harder, giving back everything I'm taking and then some.

She tastes like a dream and feels just as good, and I feel like I'm taking my first full breath in five hundred years.

My hands roam down her sides, my fingers teasing the bare skin of her thigh through the slit of her dress.

"Z," she sighs between my lips, and the once endearing nickname has me backing away from her just an inch to meet her gaze, my heart filling with hope at the need in her voice.

"Say the word and we'll be back at the residence in seconds," I say, my chest heaving, the blood thrumming through my veins with one distinct demand— bite, claim .

She blinks a few times, as if some fog has cleared from her mind. Her eyes snap to the display cases, and she gently pushes me away. "It's gone," she says, motioning to where the statue had been moments ago. The case was now empty, and none of the patrons seemed to have noticed it was taken.

We both scan the area for any sign of Conrad, but there is none.

"Shit," she snaps. "I should've grabbed him. I should've taken him, and damn the consequences. Who gives a shit if I caused a scene if we had him? If you hadn't distracted me?—"

"Me?" I cut her off, unable to hold back my smile. "You're the one who kissed me. How can you be mad at me?"

"He would've recognized me and started up the damn cat and mouse game we've been playing for months," she says, shaking her head. "Don't flatter yourself. That kiss was part of the mission. One I thought we still had a chance at completing up until two seconds ago."

I step closer to her, sliding my hand along her lower back and damn near shuddering when she doesn't immediately pull away.

"It wasn't for me," I say, already gathering my magic to wend us back to the residence, knowing that we've failed our operation, but have taken one step closer toward reconciliation whether she wants to admit it or not. "It wasn't part of the mission for me," I reiterate. "Nothing with you will ever be just part of the mission. Because I'm still fully and wholly in love with you."