Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Zane

T he shadows of the rail yard close in around us, thick and oppressive, but the actual weight of the moment isn't the darkness surrounding me—it's the storm brewing within. I've got a flimsy grip on the rage simmering in my blood, my beast clawing its way out of me, demanding blood.

My hand drifts to the place I carved my chest— SCOTS . I would proudly wear Scottie's name, but what the hell was I thinking? Of course it healed… I'm a Fondatori true-blood.

All my masochistic hacking did was leave a blood trail across the floor and risk me losing her forever. I can't believe I attacked Tucker with a shard of mirror.

For fuck's sake. If that wasn't a wake-up call that I've lost my mind, I don't know what would be. Not that it caused any damage. The giant brute just flicked me away like I was nothing more than a fly buzzing around his orbit.

What the fuck is that guy?

My father mentioned something about him growing up in a shifter compound up north, but I never cared enough to ask what his species of shifter was.

I should have. At least then I'd have a better idea about my competition.

Tucker. The name grinds through me, a mixture of jealousy and… what? Shame? Embarrassment? He turned Scottie's head from the moment they met and I don't know how to get her attention back on us.

I glance at her, standing a few feet away in the dark. Tension coils tight between us, thick and impossible to ignore, but she's not looking at me.

She's pretending she's focused and steady, but something's going on between her and Huntley. She keeps shooting him covert looks, her expression twisted up like she just swallowed a chunk of sour milk.

At least the thought of her spending time with Huntley doesn't make me homicidal. The three of us were close once. I love the idea of the two people I care about most working their drama out.

A deep inhale of night air forces me to ignore the scent of Tucker wafting around us. It's coming from Scottie's clothes.

At least they were wearing clothes this time.

She obviously doesn't know what went down with me and Tucker in the garage. If she did, she'd be ripping into me instead of standing there, calm and collected.

All these years, I thought she was being stubborn.

Nope. I was being stupid.

I took away her choice. Destroyed the trust we had. And I have no one to blame but myself.

"We need him alive, Z." Huntley grips my shoulder and dips his chin to meet my gaze. "I get that it'll take every ounce of control you have not to rip his throat out the second you lay eyes on him, but we need him alive."

Scottie nods. "We'll turn the tables, find out what he knows, and make him pay when the time's right."

I love the sound of that.

Movement in the distance catches my eye and pulls me back into the moment. A figure approaches from the shadows, jogging up the tracks just beyond the egress tunnel for the subway.

Jaxon. My blood hums with the promise of violence, but I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay rooted to the spot.

"Easy, Z." Scottie's whispered warning helps.

A few seconds later, Jaxon joins us. His face is twisted into that smarmy smug grin I've come to hate. He thinks he's playing us. Soon, he'll realize how wrong he is.

He greets us with a nod and then tilts his head back the way we came. "I parked the car as close as I could. Where are we off to?"

Scottie shifts slightly, her gaze locked on Jaxon. "We got a lead on Daeva's army that we need to check out."

"Oh, yeah? That's awesome." The sound of his voice makes my skin crawl, but I don't react. Not yet.

"But you can't leave us hanging like you did at DonorWatch," Huntley adds.

Jaxon shrugs. "Sorry, man. I told you I had to move the car. I circled back, but you guys were gone."

I take a step forward, just enough to let him feel the pressure, but I keep my voice steady. "That was one big fucking circle around the block then, Jaxon, because not only did we get hit hard, but we had a mess of bodies to clean up and you still weren't there."

His grin falters under the weight of my words, but he shrugs again. "You're alive. All's well that ends well, right?"

I clench my fists, the beast inside me snarling for release. "You'll make it up to us by helping us find Daeva's army."

Jaxon's eyes flick between the three of us, his grin slowly fading. "Yeah, sure. That's why I'm here, right?"

"Exactly," Scottie says, offering him a saccharine sweet smile. "That's why you're here."

Jaxon doesn't respond, his eyes narrowing slightly as he senses the shift in the air.

But it's too late.

We've got him.

Scottie

The door to the prisoner's cell clicks shut behind me, the sound lost in the pleading protests of a weaselly traitor. Not that it'll do him any good. Zane and Huntley see Jaxon's misdeeds and if I know the two of them at all—which I do—there will be no quarter given.

I exhale slowly, punching in the security code to gain access to the stairwell. The numbers beep one by one until the door opens and I leave the anger and betrayal behind me.

Jaxon will get what's coming to him, but I don't need to be there watching. I have other places to be.

I make my way up the stairs, the chill of the basement giving way to the warmth of the high-end house above. Francesco's safe house is more like a five-star mansion—polished hardwood floors, modern art hung on the walls, and sleek furniture that exudes wealth and power. But despite the elegance, it still feels welcoming.

It feels like Francesco. Quiet. Classy. And welcoming.

The soft padding of my socks on the floorboards is the only sound as I make my way through the hallway and search the first floor. The dim lighting casts long shadows, and I let the darkness take the ugliness of the night from me.

I'm not thinking about Jaxon's betrayal.

I'm not thinking about Huntley's declaration of love and hate.

I'm not thinking about Zane and his twisted ideas of control and possession.

I'm thinking about Tucker.

I climb the stairs to the second story, the silky wood banister cool beneath my fingers. The faint flicker of candlelight guides me along the corridor to my bedroom.

I push the door open, my lips curving into a smile the moment I see him stretched out on my bed, thumbing through the pages of a novel, wearing only a pair of gray sweats. The soft flicker of candlelight dances over the chiseled planes of his chest and arms, and I exhale a sigh.

Perfection. He's the steady calm in the middle of the whirlwind my life has become.

"Still working to reduce my carbon footprint by bunking in here with me?"

He closes his book and sets it to the side. "What can I say? I'm committed to the environment."

I lock the door behind me and make my way to the end of the bed. The bedside table is set up for a good time with three spray cans of whipped cream sitting next to a bowl of stemmed strawberries, a bottle of caramel, and a package of Reese's Pieces.

I bite my lip and chuckle. "Wow, you really ran with the whipped cream idea, didn't you?"

Tucker grins, his eyes gleaming with that light that makes my heart skip a beat. "What the lady wants, the lady shall have."

I eye him up and down and swallow when I see how dangerously low those sweatpants sit on his hips. Knowing that he goes commando sends a slow burn through my veins.

He looks so damn relaxed, so utterly him. I can't help but admire how easy he makes it all seem.

"How did it go tonight?" he asks, his voice low and smooth.

"According to plan. Jaxon's locked up tight and Zane and Huntley will deal with him." I pull my shirt over my head and toss it at his face. He catches it and waggles his brow, watching as I shimmy my pants down my hips next. "And how's Jack?"

"Out for the night," he replies, his gaze trailing down the length of my body as I strip for him. "By tomorrow, I'd bet he's back on his feet."

"Excellent. Then there's nothing for us to worry about tonight?"

Tucker's gaze follows my movements, dark and hungry, until I step out of my pants. "Nothing comes to mind."

Even without us touching, being this close and knowing what's coming, the magic in my cells sparks to life. It's erotic and overwhelming and makes me practically vibrate with the need for him.

I try to act cool as I crawl up the bed, my bare skin brushing against his as I slide in beside him. I try… but I know he can smell the rush of heat soaking the crotch of my underwear and he knows how badly I ache for him.

I'm not even going to pretend to care because by the dark spot of moisture seeping through his pants, his cock is leaking precum. I touch the pad of my finger to the little spot and grin. "Is that for me?"

"Why don't you have a look and see?"

I follow the tight, muscular V leading from his hips, tugging the heavy fabric of his pants down and out of my way. "Hello, again, Mr. Perfect."

Tucker barks a laugh and his solid length flexes up to greet me. "All right, I love that. Mr. Perfect loves it too."

I reach over to the bedside table, grab a can of whipped cream, toss the lid, and give it a shake. "I'm about to put my art degree to the best use ever."

He leans back and stretches his arms behind his head. "Consider me your willing canvas. Whatever brings your muse into play is good with me."

"Such a willing participant." With my free hand, I grip his erection and give it a couple of loving strokes. More precum leaks through the slit of his crown as he lets off a low groan.

With the precision of a master artist, I cover the head of his cock with a swirling cone of whipped cream, then I bend over his hips and suck him into my mouth. The sugary cream coats my tongue as I take him deep. Warm hands cradle both sides of my head as a sexy growl rumbles out of his chest.

"Oh, beautiful, you're spoiling me."

His words are strained and when I lift my gaze to meet his, his irises have flipped from the warm caramel of the laid-back man to the bright gold of the warrior.

I want to ask him what his magical heritage is, but know from a lifetime of living with vampires that you don't just ask someone that. It's personal, and members of the otherworld communities don't share those details with strangers.

Not that we're strangers exactly.

I swallow as I raise my head and reach for the goodies he brought to the party. Popping two Reese's Pieces into my mouth, I grin at him lying beneath me with his pants pulled down around those thick thighs.

"You're a work of art, Tucker Barrons."

He chuckles, his voice a low rumble against my skin. "I aim to please."

He cups my jaw and presses his thumb into my mouth. I suck on it for a bit before giving it a playful bite. Right. It's easy to get distracted by the man, but I had an artistic objective tonight.

I reclaim my can of whipped cream, gather a few strawberries, and get back to my canvas. "Kick off those pants. I'm going to need access to all of you for this."

"As you wish."