Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

GREY

The body belongs to Slavno's grandmother.

Which doesn't make sense because I personally saw to it that the elderly woman was received by her family.

She smiled at them.

They thanked us.

And then we left.

So how did she find her way back to the nursing home to die in the very bed we carried her out of?

Cadence is the first to look away from the cell phone. She starts laughing.

Sloane points at her. "Is she okay? Did the shock break something in her brain?"

If there's anyone with a broken brain in here, it's the one seeing visions of her dead best friend.

Sloane scowls at me, eyes narrowed. "These aren't visions. I'm real. I just don't have a body."

"Brahms, you want to spell out what's so funny?" Dutch demands.

"Sorry, guys. I just…"

Finn frowns in concern.

Zane rubs the back of his neck. "Look, Cadey, I love a good joke as much as anyone, but this doesn't seem like it."

She swipes under her eyes. Slowly, her laughter subsides and a poignant sadness replaces it.

Dutch turns on protective husband mode. "Babe, you good?"

Cadey's smile is ruined by her teary eyes. "Remember…" She pauses. "Remember how my mom ‘died' before I went to Redwood?"

"You mean when she faked her death?" Finn clarifies.

Cadence gives us a knowing look.

Dutch gets it first. He whirls around. "You did this?"

"Nah." Zane lifts both arms. "Wasn't me."

"I was in the computer room the entire time."

"But… not Sol," I breathe.

Cadence's smile slowly dims.

"Sol was supposed to set a fire in the grandmother's room," I say, gaze falling to the news article.

"Yeah, but the fire was just to hide the fact that her bags and valuables were gone. We didn't want the cops on our tail while we were getting away."

"I think Sol misunderstood." Cadence's gaze flicks up to Dutch.

"Or went rogue," Zane murmurs, rubbing his thumb under his lip.

"It works either way. The news is classifying it as an accident," I say.

Finn's eyes sharpen on me. "Variables matter. The guards we paid off didn't count on someone ‘dying'. If one of them has a guilty conscience?—"

"What matters," Zane says, stepping in front of me, "is that we get what we need from Slavno."

Finn frowns, his frustration palpable. "You and Sol can't just act on instinct all the time. We have a plan for a reason."

"When does anything ever go to plan?"

Finn glances away.

"What's done is done. Worrying about variables and things we can't see coming won't fix anything. That stone's already rolling down the hill."

Dutch curses.

Cadence saws her bottom lip between her teeth.

Zane takes my hand and tugs me forward.

"Where are you going? We need to call Sol and get to the bottom of this."

"I'm going to bed," Zane answers darkly. "You and Finn can stay up worrying, but I'm going to enjoy the last bit of my weekend before school tomorrow."

"Zane," I whisper, resisting.

He's too strong and I'm haplessly dragged to his bedroom.

Sloane flits along, skipping beside us.

I wrench my hand free the moment Zane releases me to lock the door.

"Your brothers are right. A missing person is one thing. A death from a mysterious fire brings another level of attention we don't need. What if we get caught? What if you boys go to jail because of me?"

"That's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

Sloane's smile shatters. "I'm not sure if I dislike him for being arrogant or admire him for being so optimistic right now."

Zane grins crookedly.

Irritation fills my body in an instant.

Our personalities couldn't be more polar opposite. I'm about to have a hernia and he thinks everything is a joke.

"Relax. Even if we get caught, it won't affect you," Zane says.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious, Grey."

"If the police find out, I'll admit everything."

"I won't let you."

"You can't stop me. And besides, this is my mission. My fight."

The smile finally dies. The mask shifts. His eyes burn into me, sending a shiver of fire down my spine. "Dammit, you're not in this fight alone anymore. This is our fight now."

"This has nothing to do with you."

"If it's about you, it has everything to do with me."

"Because I'm your property?" I spit, getting annoyed again.

"Yeah."

"You're unbelievable." I throw my hands up. "I'm going to take a shower. And don't worry. Your property will be ready and naked for you by the time you're finished with yours."

"Grace."

I blink in shock. That's the first time I've heard him refer to me by my actual name.

Zane's voice holds an abrasive edge, like he's pulling each syllable from a deep, dark abyss. "In the casket. You told me ‘even if it hurts, you want to live in the light'."

Shock stabs me in the chest. "You remember that?"

"I remember everything if it comes out of your mouth. How do you think I'm scraping by in an AP level Lit class?" He steps closer, touches one of my curls and twists it around his finger. The coil clings to him, bouncing around on his knuckles.

My skin prickles as I receive the full weight of his stare. The room gets smaller, the walls closing in.

Sloane is gone.

That's not good.

"Your job is to be the light." His gaze flicks away from my hair and catches my eyes, heavy and intentional, as if he's seeing straight to my soul. "I'll take care of the shadows."

My heart turns to a rock in my chest.

I inhale. Exhale.

The sound rattles in my own head, pushing out every thought and stretching time until it's moving in slow motion.

And then I'm moving.

My feet shuffling forward.

My arms, around his neck.

Human beings need the light, but they crave the darkness. I understand the truth of that when I press my lips to Zane's.

He stands still, eyes open.

My eyes are open too.

I hate myself.

I hate him even more.

So much for standing my ground. I close my eyes and watch my pride galloping off into the darkness, where the rest of my dignity went to die.

My heart drums in my ears, the sound as loud as a gong.

It's too late to take back what I've done. I ease away, a curved finger brushing my bottom lip. But Zane doesn't let me get far.

He hooks an arm as strong as a steel bar around my waist. My breath escapes on a gasp.

"I really was going to let you shower, tiger, but I've changed my mind."

Impatience feels like a hand gripping low on my hip in a possessive hold. Like a kiss to my mouth that sends a spark between my legs. Like the creak of a mattress as it absorbs the weight of two bodies. Like the hiss of a calloused palm skating up my thigh.

It sounds like heavy breaths, echoing from hollowed throats. Like the rustle of pants meeting a freshly discarded doctor's coat. Like a grunt of frustration as Zane tries to undo my blouse.

"Stupid buttons," he hisses against my lips. His head curves down to the shirt that's denying him entry.

I look up from where I'm pinned beneath him, watching the midnight-black hair fall into frustrated eyes.

"Let me." I curl my fingers around his.

"I got it," he insists. "I did your pants."

"My pants had one button."

"If I did one, I can do six."

"You've got a broken wrist."

"I'm aware of what parts of me are and aren't working."

"It'll be faster if I do it."

His lips curve up wickedly.

I shoot him a dark look. " Don't you dare make a joke right now."

Zane's laughter gets pressed into my mouth as he kisses me again with such intensity that my first thought is ‘I can't breathe' and my second is ‘it's okay if I never breathe again'. He brings his fingers to my chest, his sling jostling under my chin.

I try to shove his hand away so I can do the unbuttoning, but he nips my bottom lip and then licks it, offering both my punishment and my pleasure.

A moan escapes my throat, without my consent, and Zane looks down with eyes that douse me in gasoline.

Bottomless. Blue.

I want to look away, afraid to drown in a sea that restless, afraid it'll freeze over and turn to ice without warning.

"Behave, Miss Jamieson."

Surprise. And then a gush of desire. It stokes the flames already bursting inside me, spreading from my head to the tips of my toes. I wonder what kind of sick, twisted psychopath I am. What sick, twisted psychopath I've been all along.

Zane slides his mouth against mine again, slipping his tongue inside. I feel that wet invasion between my legs.

More buttons come undone. His hand sweeps over my skin, testing, tasting.

Blood turns to lava in my veins.

Body thrumming.

Muscle taut.

A phone rings.

He ignores it, focused on me. Hands, everywhere at once. Mouth marking a path from my chest to my stomach and lower.

The phone is insistent.

He lifts his head.

I want to push it back down. Instead, I deflate into the pillows and stare at the ceiling like a responsible adult.

"It could be the warden," Zane explains roughly, pushing off me.

I don't want to answer him. Every word bursting at the tip of my tongue right now is embarrassing.

Instead I breathe hard and press my naked legs back together because, without Zane's body hovering over me, keeping out the cold, all I feel is a cool wind in a place that was ready for blistering heat.

The phone suddenly goes silent.

Zane's body dips the mattress and I roll toward him, my eyes wide and my mouth open in shock. I glance at the phone and I see that he powered it down.

"You didn't answer?"

"You wanted me to stop?"

I bite down on my bottom lip.

His smile is amused. He keeps looking at me like that, like I'm a little girl playing a game he already won.

The urge to smack him rises in me.

"Did you?"

A tortured grunt is all I offer.

He leans down and I anticipate him kissing me but his mouth meets my ear. "The world can burn."

I'm gripped by the frightening honesty in his tone. The recklessness. The surety.

I know the truth. Zane Cross would only burn if the world burned with him.

"You're more important to me," he adds. There's something dark and genuine behind his eyes, and I get the feeling that he's letting me see it. That he's undoing his mask with as much strain and effort as it took him to undo my blouse.

Trying to be semi-responsible, I point out, "Still."

He grabs both my ankles in one palm and yanks me to the edge of the bed. Kneeling down, he spreads my legs again. "Still?"

"You should…" I dig my fingers into the sheet as my veins liquify.

A kiss behind my knee. Then a cocky tilt of his head in question. "I should?"

Defiance unfurls inside me, but it's no match for the wet heat of his mouth climbing closer and closer to?—

Heavy thuds bang on the door.

"Zane!"

We both groan at the interruption.

"Zane, check your phone!"

"My phone's dead. Now go away!" Zane yells, returning his attention to my inner thigh.

More thudding.

The door's about to drop off its hinges.

"Put your clothes back on and check your damn phone! Jinx just posted."

My heart skips a beat. I unfold my legs from Zane's shoulders, crab walk backward so I can get to the nightstand and swipe my phone off the dresser.

Chills run down my spine when I read the latest update.

"What is it?" Zane asks, his face hardening.

I look up from my phone. What was hot and liquid inside me turns to cold stone.

"What's with that face, Grey? What did Jinx say?"

"Principal Harris… is dead."

Jinx: All The Kings' horses and all The Kings' men couldn't put Harris together again

Our dear royal governor gently stepped off his dining room chair into a six-inch noose tonight. Save your thoughts. Save your prayers. They won't bring him back to life.

You and I both know what truly never dies, don't we?

If Harris has gone to join the other skeletons in the royal closet, it'll only be a matter of time before those bones fall out.

Until the next time, keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer,

-Jinx