Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

GREY

Sloane is back.

"Well, this is awkward," she says, glancing between me and Zane.

I drag my attention away from the madman, who's stomping over with a grim frown, and focus on the many exits out of the park.

"If you run, you'll look pathetic," Sloane points out.

"Think we can outrun them?" Cadence asks aloud.

I consider the distance between us and the boys.

Sloane shakes her head in caution. "I wouldn't bet on those odds."

"They'll catch us," I tell Cadence.

She nods slowly. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Dutch outpaces his twin brother and marches right up to Cadence. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure I see her sigh in resignation and lift her arms voluntarily seconds before Dutch hoists her up and over his shoulder. The motion is so smooth that it almost looks like they're dancing.

"Is that normal?" Sloane asks, bewildered at the way Cadence bounces like a rag doll on top of the scowling boy's shoulders.

For them, yeah. I answer back in my head.

Dutch glances at me and gives me a grunt of acknowledgement that's as caveman as his movements.

"I guess I'll see you later," Cadence mumbles to me.

I wiggle my fingers.

Cadence rolls her eyes from her perch on Dutch's shoulder. She swats her upside-down ponytail away from her face and gives me a bemused little wave.

While Dutch trots away with the spoils of his hunt, a shadow blocks the moonlight. I feel a frigid wind and even Sloane shivers as if we were just flung into the middle of an ice bath.

My eyes slide up a pair of long legs, past the arm sling, the broad shoulders and finally to a face hewn in shadows and moonlight and bracketed by raven-black hair.

When I meet Zane's angry blue stare, my tongue shrivels in my mouth. He's watching me with an unbridled obsession, one that makes it difficult to tell if the fire burning behind his startling baby blues is from love or hate.

Either way, the flames singe me.

He says nothing and just looks me over, cataloguing every inch of my limbs like he's searching for the marks he left on my skin today.

I clear my throat. "How did you know I was here?"

He shoots me another dark look.

I hold my ground despite everything inside me throwing out caution signals.

If he wants to have a staring contest like we're middle school children, fine by me.

Zane blinks first.

I guess I won that round.

"We're leaving," he growls.

"I'm not leaving with you," I snap.

His muscles, each and every one of them, tighten. I see it like a violinist tuning her instrument. One twist too far and the strings will snap and blind her.

Zane looms over me. His lips curl down further. Seeing the way his teeth click and grind reminds me that, despite being younger than me, Zane Cross is much, much bigger. He could flick his fingers and snap my neck in a second.

"You've done enough running away, Grey."

That is definitely not true.

If he caught me, I haven't run far enough.

I hold my ground. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's control a rowdy class. On a daily basis, I can rein in a room of entitled, spoiled rich kids. I've trained them to read Aristotle and Shakespeare when all they've ever read is Jinx's app and the VIP catalogues from their favorite designers.

If I can do all that, I can control one ticking time bomb of an eighteen year old.

Lifting my chin, I say in my most professional voice, "Zane, if you're not going to talk nonsense then kindly step aside. I was just about to lea— uh ."

My words are cut off when Zane takes a determined step forward and wraps his arms around me. I'm being crushed against his chest in an instant, my breath hitting the side of his neck.

"What are you doing?" I wheeze.

His heart is beating so fast. Too fast.

I swallow hard. "Zane."

His hand cups the back of my head and sweeps down over my curls. Abruptly, he pulls back, cups my chin with his one good hand and places a firm, near-punishing kiss on my forehead.

Then he takes my hand and says again in a voice that brooks no argument. "We're leaving."

"I guess we're leaving," Sloane says as Zane drags me along in a daze.

He's still using Dutch's car, and the memories that attack me when he opens the passenger door are pretty close to violent. Reluctantly, I shuffle inside, knowing the alternative is to be wrapped in ropes, handcuffs, zip ties or whatever other kidnapping tools Zane can find and dragged in by my hair.

He remains close to me when I walk forward, refusing to back away and give me space. Sparks of awareness travel up my arm and shoulder as I accidentally brush against him. He gives no signs of feeling anything, but a flush fills my cheeks and I know, if I were a shade lighter, I'd be blushing.

Zane slams the door behind me and walks around the car. Alone in the silence, my attention switches to the backseat. Memories so crisp they feel like a movie I can touch play out in front of me. I hear the sound of Zane's zipper coming down. The hiss of our bodies becoming one. The slap of flesh on flesh and the whimpers that poured from my mouth to his ears.

A pulse travels from my stomach to between my legs.

The car gets impossibly hot.

I fan my face.

The sound of his door wrenching shut cuts off my wayward thoughts. Zane is behind the wheel. Unfortunately, I'm feeling even more uncomfortable now and that feeling does not improve when he drives in stiff silence to a hotel instead of the mansion.

"What are we doing here?" I choke out.

"This is where we'll be sleeping tonight."

"Yes, yes, yes ," Sloane chants with a big grin.

"No, no, no," I burst out. "No, we're not."

But Zane ignores me, hops out of the truck and walks around to open my door. When I don't move, he surges forward and bends over me. His head is two centimeters away from my chest, unlocking another barrage of private, sensual memories.

I lift my chin, staring at the roof of the car.

Click.

The seatbelt comes undone and Zane retreats to the sidewalk, staring pointedly.

Licking my lips, I step out of the car and give him a wide berth. If we sleep in the same hotel room, there's a sixty percent chance we'll spend the night together. And having sex again will only complicate a relationship that's complicated enough.

Zane's eyes bore into mine and, for one twisted heartbeat, I wonder if he'll throw me over his shoulder too. Instead, he says, "Wait here."

I watch as he presses a button, pops the trunk and returns with two overnight bags. Feeling like I'm about to walk into a lion's den, I follow him into the hotel.

The woman at the front desk beams at Zane. "Hey, stranger. Haven't seen you in a while."

He stretches out a hand, not acknowledging her statement.

Huh. Where's the typical Zane charm? The fire-hot smile inviting flirty conversation? Why is he so angry?

The woman also seems startled. She reaches for a card under the desk. Her smile dims when she notices me standing behind Zane.

"Who is this?"

I shuffle my feet, "No one."

"My wife," Zane says resolutely at the same time.

I cringe.

The woman looks crest-fallen.

"I didn't know you'd gotten married," she says.

Zane snaps the card from the counter and walks off without answering.

I offer a sheepish smile in apology and trail him.

"I guess you come here often," I tell Zane.

He ignores me.

I quicken my stride to match his insane long-legged gait. "Is this where you bring the women you meet in bars?"

He stops and slants me an annoyed look.

My gaze narrows in response. "You didn't say no."

"Grey."

"What?"

"Say one more word and I'm going to give your mouth something better to do."

I scowl at him but I keep quiet.

Zane taps the button for the elevator and steps inside. I'm irritated to the point that my skin is burning like I have a fever. I'm feeling a very intense case of déjà vu.

The last time I was in an elevator with Zane, I didn't know his name or his age.

I didn't ask.

And in hindsight, I wish I did.

"Hey, dude who's drinking in a bar with a very clear ‘must be 21 or older to enter' sign, how old are you? By chance, do you attend Redwood Prep, the school where I'm about to go undercover?"

The elevator doors open.

I leave my regrets behind and follow Zane into a room.

There's nothing I can do to change my past. All I can do is fight like hell to make better decisions now so my future isn't as screwed as my present circumstances.