6. Talia

CHAPTER 6

Talia

" B ecause I'm still fully and wholly in love with you." Zachariah's words echo in my mind as he wends us back to the king's residence, appearing just outside my current quarters.

My heart clenches, stinging like he's just twisted the knife that's been lodged there for centuries.

I stare up into his eyes for a moment, contemplating how he can say such a declaration and yet completely ignore the betrayal and hurt he delivered all those years ago.

The pain from that loss radiates throughout my body, giving me exactly enough strength to step out of his embrace, shoving him a little when his hands linger on my arms.

"Don't worry, it'll fade," I say, packing as much disdain as I can into the statement even though it's a complete and bold-faced lie.

It's never faded for me.

It merely morphed into something painfully tangible, a visceral haunting that plagues me on a nightly basis.

"How can you be so cruel?" Zachariah asks, genuine remorse and shock shaping his features.

I swallow the lump in my throat, glancing around the hallway only to find it empty with no outlet for a distraction, no excuse I can use to get out of this conversation.

"You have some nerve calling me cruel, Zachariah," I say, folding my arms over my chest like that might protect my heart. "It's been centuries for me," I continue. "And been what, two years for you?" I ask, having gathered pieces of the past from my conversations with the girls.

Zachariah tilts his head, that look on his face he gets when he's about to correct me. "More like two years plus five months. Ajax did his whole time-stop thing so we could catch up?—"

"Same difference," I cut him off, rolling my eyes. "The exact math doesn't matter. What does matter?" I take a step closer to him, letting every inch of fury be unmasked on my face as I look up at him. "You were blissfully unaware for centuries, in a likely heavy and dreamless sleep in stasis while I was left right exactly here ."

Tears threaten to fall from my eyes, but I do my best to hold them back. I've done so much crying over the male before me, and I honestly thought that was all behind me. But one look at him, one listen to his lyrical voice, one hint of his scent, and I'm right back where I started—a girl, hopelessly in love.

"You were asleep," I continue, doing my best to not let my voice break. "And I was here. Living every second of every night with what you did to me. With what you chose without giving me a chance?—"

"I left a letter," Zachariah cuts over me, his eyes imploring. "Talia, I thought I was protecting?—"

"Don't," I stop him. "Don't you dare bring up that letter to me. You damn well know it wasn't enough. And it sure as hell wasn't fair."

"Talia," he says as I take the step away, reaching for me like he might take my hand again. "Please?—"

"Space," I say as I reach for the handle on my door. "I need space. I need time to think."

"About me?" he asks in a hopeful tone. "About us?"

"About this utter failure of a mission tonight," I answer instead of telling him the truth.

Instead of saying he's all I've thought about since I laid eyes on him. "And about how the hell I'm going to get back on Conrad's trail now."

I push open my door and shut it behind me without looking back, knowing if I continue to look at him, I'll stand there all night, talking to him, hearing him out, slipping into that girl I used to be if only to find some kind of solid ground between us again.

But I know how dangerous hope is.

Know what it feels like to make plans and dream of a future only to have those things crushed in the end.

I can't be that person anymore, and more so, I don't want to be.

Zachariah's lips pressing against mine, my spine kissing the wall of the alcove he'd walked us into.

His hands roaming over my body in a territorial way that set my blood on fire.

The way his body felt against mine, leaving me aching and breathless and needy ? —

I throw a dagger in the assassin's training room, then another, and another. Every single one of the practice blades slam into the target within a centimeter of each other.

Frustration clings to my body as I stomp across the space to retrieve them, returning to my starting point and throwing them again.

And again

And again.

I throw them until the target is nearly destroyed and my body is peppered with sweat, but it doesn't matter how much energy I expend, I can't shake the craving racing through my blood.

The need pulsing beneath every inch of my skin whispering Zachariah, Zachariah, Zachariah.

I've been kissed plenty of times since he decided to choose duty over me, but none have ever felt like that. Like he knew me inside and out, every inch his to claim, every breath his to take.

I throw a dagger at the target again, already reaching for the other two on a small table next to me.

"I hope it's not my face you're picturing on that target," Zachariah says, appearing right next to me, making me jump.

"Just your balls," I say, not turning to look at him, internally cursing myself for not realizing he'd snuck up on me. I throw the remaining daggers, each blade sinking into the wood right where I aim.

"Are you using your powers?" Zachariah asks, nodding toward the expertly thrown blades as I turn to look up at him.

I shake my head, pride welling within me.

Zachariah tilts his head, folding his arms over his chest as he looks down at me. "Why not?" he asks. "With your telekinetic powers, you can always hit your mark."

He's not wrong. Thanks to my very powerful, very ancient, and very noble bloodline, I was born with the unique ability to move things with my mind. I can lift him right now with just a thought, perhaps send him flying into the target just for the fun of it.

The thought makes me smirk a little, but I refrain.

"I don't like to rely solely on my powers," I explain as I walk toward the target, retrieving the blades and bringing them back to the table.

Zachariah tracks my every step.

"In this modern age, there are too many things that can nullify them. If they're ever stripped from me, I want to be able to handle myself without them."

"Impressive," he says, smiling down at me, looking at me as if I'm the only thing in the world that matters.

And I hate that everything inside me perks up at his praise, my entire soul arching and begging for more.

It's unfair.

The way he looks, smells…the way he makes me feel.

It's absolutely unfair .

"Is there a reason you're here?" I ask, diving right back into the irritation and iciness that I hope will protect me in the end.

The line of his jaw goes rigid and there's a debate in his eyes like he might say something else, but he only blows out of breath. "The hunters and I are about to go track down a lead on another nest."

Apprehension grips me.

I shouldn't be worried about him, shouldn't have a care in the world about him when it comes to his safety, but that concern is right there in the center of my heart, nonetheless.

"You don't owe me anything," I say, clinging to that coldness. "You don't have to run your itinerary by me."

Zachariah tips his head, looking at the ceiling high above in the assassin's training room like he's searching for patience there. "I'm not running anything by you," he says, looking back down at me. "I'm asking you to come with us."

I arch a brow, tilting my head at him. "Oh, so modern times have enlightened you to allow women into your all-boys club?"

"Naturally," he says like he's choosing his words very carefully. "And I know you'll go out on your own anyway. You might as well have the full force of the hunters at your back."

I can't stop the small smile from shaping my lips, nor can I stop myself from taking a step closer to him, addicted to his warmth, his scent…everything about him really. "Is that your way of saying you're worried about me, Zachariah?"

He lets his arms fall to his sides, his fingers just barely grazing the back of my hand, we stand so close to each other. My body aches in ways it's never ached before, my heart racing from just the sight of him.

"Always," he says, his tone so much softer than it was moments before, and that cracks something in my cold, icy heart, warming it just enough that I allow my mind to wander. To fantasize.

To picture what might happen if I span the small distance between us, take his hand, and reach up for his mouth at the same time. He'd kiss me like he had at the auction, and then he wouldn't hesitate to wend us back to his quarters to finish what he started centuries ago. He'd peel my clothes off, slowly exploring every inch of my body before focusing on that needy spot between my thighs?—

"Are you going to come?"

I blink a few times, floundering in my own mind on how to respond to that. Then I'm firmly planted back in reality where he's asking me to go on a mission with him, not back to his bedroom.

I need to get a fucking grip.

"Of course, I'm coming," I snap. "No one knows Conrad's scent as well as I do."

"Lovely," he says, matching my energy. He extends his hand, and I hesitate only a few seconds before taking it. He doesn't bother giving me a warning, his power folding us into time and space as he wends us away.

It's only a matter of moments before we land right next to his awaiting hunter brothers in what smells like lycan territory. Ajax and Talon and Dagon and Saint. They're all there, looking like no time has passed at all.

Saint is the hardest to look at, knowing that when it came down to me or him, Zachariah chose him.

And honestly, I can't blame him for that.

That's not what broke my heart.

Not that he'd bothered to ask.

"Talia," Saint says my name with a dip of his head, and I finally blink out of my stare and return the gesture.

"This is where we last picked up on the scent from the nest you found," Ajax says, glancing between me and Zachariah.

"We don't smell Samuel," Saint says, an edge to his voice, his red-ringed eyes locked on to Zachariah.

Those eyes, tinted with a hint of bloodmadness, are enough to make my powers perk up beneath my skin, sharpening like I might have to throw them around Saint at any moment.

But I know better. Not one of these hunters would let him out into the real world, let him come out of stasis, if they didn't think he was fit to be in society.

And that just brings up a whole other well of hurt that I'm not ready to address.

I inhale deeply, focusing my senses on the mission at hand, and stand up a bit straighter.

"I can smell Conrad," I say to the group. "But it's faint." My shoulders drop and I shake my head. "It's likely newborns. He's been creating more and more in every city that he steals an artifact from."

"Well, whether Conrad is here or not," Zachariah says. "We still have to dispatch of the nest."

"Understood," Ajax says, giving some unrecognizable signal as all of the hunters spread out, tracking down different traces of the scent as we all head in the same general direction across lycan territory.

There's a chill to the night air, October's autumn in full force, the winds dropping a few more degrees from the river that winds to our left only a few yards away. Its sound covers any noise we make, the fallen leaves from the wooded area around the river enough to make any of us a little more loud in our steps than usual. Especially when Zachariah seems hell-bent on matching every step I make.

I can't help but sneak glances at Saint, who's to our right, looking completely in control and healthy as he follows the trail.

"I need you to understand something," Zachariah says after the third time I've checked Saint's location, some inner instinct in me needing to know where he is at all times. "We truly believed Saint was on the verge of destroying the world, and that included you in it."

I falter only a step before continuing on the trail, doing my best not to look at Zachariah lest all my emotions be out in the open for him to read.

"How's that going for you?" I finally manage to ask, my tone indifferent. "Because it looks like he's fine."

"Nothing is working out for me," he answers. "Except for the fact that you're alive and within an arm's reach of me." He sighs. "Samuel betrayed us in unimaginable ways, as you well know. I'm not saying Saint is perfect, but he's not the one we should've been worried about. Either way, I had to make a decision quickly. And with your life at stake, along with so many others, it was my burden to bear."

Anger rips through me like a tidal wave of fire. "You should've talked to me about it," I say. "You should've explained it then , not in some letter. I would have?—"

Zachariah takes me to the ground, and it's a full two seconds before I realize a newborn vampire has attacked us from behind.

The first bloodmad reveals itself, and five more following dart out from the cover of the trees.

I shove Zachariah off, moving us both as one of the bloodmad newborns lunges for us again.

We're on our feet in seconds, and I grip my power, stopping a blade before it reaches Zachariah's chest, spinning it around and sending it soaring into the chest of the newborn that had thrown it.

"Thanks," Zachariah says before sending a bolt of lightning at a newborn heading straight for Ajax.

The thing goes down right in front of Ajax, who finishes the job.

I have my daggers at the ready, but with the amount of hunters in our little crew, the nest is dispatched within seconds.

I blow out of breath, shaking my head. "So much for easy and consenting transitions," I say, guilt gnawing at me. "If I would've captured Conrad earlier, none of this would have happened."

"Don't take this blame," Zachariah says, pointing to the bodies that his brothers are gathering to put in a pile to burn. "Keep it on the person who created them."

"Newborns don't have to turn out like this," I say. "If transitioned properly, and given blood right away…if they're taught how to feed..." I swallow hard, hating that tears are sneaking up on me way more than usual lately.

"I know," Zachariah says. "What they're doing is senseless and cruel."

I glance up at him, feeling connected to him in the way I used to, in the times where we agreed on almost everything, and constantly danced on the same page.

"Thank you," he says again. "For saving my life."

I laugh softly. "You would've stopped that blade."

"But you did it for me," he says. "Maybe you don't want me dead after all."

The smile drops from my face just as the flames on the bodies ignite.

"That was never the problem," I say. "Was it? The real issue was that I wanted you to live , for me. But you didn't."

Zachariah flinches, and I feel that pain resonate inside my chest. I shove it down as I stomp over to where Ajax is trying to pretend like he didn't hear what I just said.

"Will you wend me back to the residence?" I ask the giant, who gives me the respect of not looking to Zachariah for permission. Instead, he simply gives me a supportive smile and grabs my arm, wending me back to the residence without question.

And as I hurry into my quarters like I can outrun the pain in my heart, I think about the zero hesitation among the hunters. Think about the way they take care of each other and their mates.

And I hate that I mourn the family we could have been. The family we could be, if only Zachariah had included me in his plans instead of shoving me out under the guise of it being for my own good.