Zane (Inked Brotherhood 3)

Then it sounds again.

The doorbell.

I frown. After all the pounding on my door, who would just ring the bell? Not a guy, I think randomly. Ash, Dylan or Rafe would keep pounding on the door until it crashes. Which is why I’m not letting them in or answering the phone. Because then I’ll have to talk, and explain, and I… I can’t fucking do this right now.

The bell rings again.

“Go away!” I yell, and fucking ow, my head. It’s about to split apart. “Just go.”

Someone yells from the other side of the door, “Zane, open up! Open this door.” A woman’s voice. “Please.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m not leaving. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

I stare at the door. The only thing that comes to my mind is, this isn’t Erin. Is it Tessa? There’s something in that voice…

My body is reacting to it, even though my brain is having trouble. I put the bottle down. “Dammit.” I struggle to my feet. My stomach roils as I stumble to the door. “What the hell…”

Looks like I locked my door last night when I came home, and now the damn lock is stuck. I curse it and jiggle the lock until it turns. The door opens.

Okay, I’m drunker than I thought. There’s no reason for her to be at my door on a Monday morning, looking pissed, cute and damn sexy in her ripped jeans and tight black top.

“Dakota?” My voice slurs, and I wipe a hand over my mouth, hoping I’m not drooling.

She stalks inside, her eyes unreadable, and I grimace, waiting for the tirade I can see coming. Why the hell did I let her in? Where does my good sense go whenever she’s around?

I close the door and turn to face her, bracing.

But she doesn’t speak. She steps close and gazes up at me with those big blue eyes. I can’t help noticing they seem a bit too bright. Then she shakes her head, opens her arms and wraps them around me.

I flinch. I can’t help it, but she holds on tight, and slowly I relax. It’s just a hug, I remind myself. I can do friendly hugs. Erin and Megan hug me often. As long as there’s nothing sexual about it, I’m okay.

Besides, unlike in some of my darkest nightmares, I can see her face, and I know it’s all right. It’s her, Dakota, and nothing bad will happen.

Her light honeyed scent calms me. I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to do or say, except put my arms around her too and close my eyes for a moment. The tension that’s been keeping me rigid for days melts away, and weirdly, as I sag heavily against her, I feel like I’m floating.

The moment doesn’t last. She pulls away. “You should call Asher and Rafe,” she whispers, and this time she doesn’t look me in the eye. “They’re worried sick about you. The only reason Asher hasn’t called the police is that your light has been on, and he heard you yell at him to fuck off.”

Crap. I’ve worried everyone. And what if Matt called about Emma and found my cell phone off? Smart, Zane. Very smart.

Breaking through my thoughts, she moves away, and I reach after her, not sure what I’m trying to do. Not sure what happened, why I let her hold me. I let very few people inside my guard, and they know not to surprise me.

But I’m slow and dizzy, and I don’t catch her. She walks to the sofa and picks up one of my drawings, then another. When she turns to look at me, her eyes are wide, and she looks pale.

“Zane…”

“What?” I draw skulls and skeletons, monsters and roaring lions, more thorns than roses. More death than life. That’s how my mind works. Then again, I’m so drunk I might have drawn just about anything. “What is it now?”

“Nothing. Just…” She looks again at the drawings, then places them on the coffee table.

“Just what?” I take a step in her direction, and shit, everything is spinning. “Fuck.”

She’s at my side immediately, pulling me toward the sofa. “You need to drink lots of water and eat something. I’ll make you some breakfast. Something greasy is good.”

“Why?” I sink against the cushions and rub my hands over my face.

“To absorb the alcohol. It really helps.”