Rage and Ruin (The Harbinger 2)

I thought about that. “That’s...kind of sad.”

“Why?”

I wiggled my shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know. You should think of it as a home.”

“Do you miss your home?” he asked.

My lips pursed. Yes. No? Both. And yet neither? “Some days,” I said, settling in the middle.

“Strange answer.”

It was, but... “I miss my stars,” I said. “But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.”

There was a quiet laugh. “Then ask me a different question.”

I blinked at that. “Okaaay.” I drew the word out as another question I had no business asking filled my thoughts.

“You want to ask another question.”

My head cut toward his. “How do you know that?”

“The bond.”

“What?” I started to sit up.

“I’m kidding.” He laughed, catching my arm and stilling me. “I can see it on your face.”

“My face?” I settled back.

“You wrinkle your nose whenever you’re thinking about something you want to say and trying not to say it.”

“Really?” I had no idea if that was true. The nose part, that is. Everything else was, as Peanut would say, totes true.

“Really. I’m observant like that.” Zayne’s hand slipped into the space between us. His knuckles rested against my arm. “What do you want to ask? I have a feeling this is going to be a good one.”

I arched a brow. Then I told myself not to ask it. My brain did not listen. “You seemed really happy to see Stacey.”

The moment that came out of my mouth, I wondered how fast I could roll off the couch and run headfirst into a nearby wall. There were so many more important things we could talk about besides his less-than-cozy apartment and friends with benefits.

“You sure that was a question?” he asked. “Because it sounded like a statement, but yeah, I was happy. I hadn’t seen her in a while.”

I pressed my lips together, thinking about her warning. “She seemed happy to see you.”

“I guess so.” Zayne pulled his hand back as he settled into the cushion. “Stacey and I are just friends.”

The snort that left me sounded vaguely like a wild boar running from hunters. “Yeah, I don’t think you can say you’re just friends. Not that I care or anything. Or that it’s any of my business.”

“Okay. You’re right. We were more than friends,” he replied. “Not that you don’t know that already. Or care.”

Shifting onto my back, I crossed my arms. “I totally don’t care.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“Because I’m nosy,” I admitted. Then I forced myself to say, “She seems pretty cool.”

“She is. I hope you get to know her. I think you’d like her.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. “I didn’t know she’d been here.”

Zayne was quiet for a moment. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Trin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

I stiffened. His tone wasn’t cold or anything, but there was something off about it, and he was totally closing a door on that conversation. Which was his right, but it made me feel like I...like I’d crossed a line, and maybe I had.

And boy, didn’t that shine a huge glaring light on the awkwardness of our relationship? There was almost a professional aspect to us, with the whole Protector and Trueborn bond. We were friends, but we’d briefly been more, and a part of me felt like we were still tiptoeing around that line despite the fact that the line was actually a wall. And even though I’d filed away what I felt for Zayne, I was still a jealous little monster when it came to Layla and Stacey. I had no right to those feelings, and Zayne was...well, he was Zayne, and I had no idea how he felt about any of this.

“How do you feel, knowing that it was supposed to be me that Abbot raised?” I blurted out. “That if my mom had done what she was supposed to do, you might never have met Layla?”

“That’s...” Zayne shifted as if he were trying to get comfortable. “That’s a hard question to answer. I don’t know what to think, or if thinking about it even matters, because that’s not what happened. The past is the past, and what should’ve been doesn’t change that, but if you’re asking if I regret these series of mistakes that led to this moment?”

My breath hitched. “I’m not asking that. Of course you don’t regret it. I wouldn’t—”

“I don’t,” he cut in. “And I do.”

I stilled.

“If what was supposed to have happened had, we would’ve had years of training and preparing together. We wouldn’t be playing catch-up, and maybe I wouldn’t—” He stopped and then drew in an audible breath. “We would be more ready than we are now, and everything that happened with Misha wouldn’t have.”

I flinched, heart dropping a little.

“But I can’t regret that my father took Layla in,” he continued. “Even with how all of that turned out, I can’t regret it. I don’t.”

I let that sink in. “I understand.” And I did. I got it, and I was glad he didn’t seem to be dwelling on it.

Zayne didn’t respond, and I decided I’d asked enough random questions for at least the next couple of hours.

I should probably get up, but I was comfortable and I... I missed this.

I missed having someone to talk to.

I thought about the calls from Jada. I really needed to call her.

“You miss your stars.” Zayne spoke into the darkness. “The ones back home, on the ceiling. Took me a bit to realize what you were talking about, but I remember.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Those stars.”

“Got a question for you. A quick one.”

I turned my head toward him. “What?”

“If you were coming out here to see if I was still awake, why did you have your dagger with you?”

Dammit.

“You know...” I started.

“No, I don’t.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, I don’t know why I grabbed it. Habit, I guess.”

“Strange habit.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“After a night like this, grabbing a dagger wasn’t a bad idea,” he tacked on, and I wasn’t entirely convinced that meant he believed me. He chuckled under his breath.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s nothing. I was just thinking about... I was thinking about Greene.” He cleared his throat. “He wasn’t a good sleeper, awake in the mornings and up in the afternoons, which may be normal for humans but not us. I saw him a lot since I kept the same hours because of Layla and her school schedule. Anyway, both of us had trouble staying asleep, so we’d end up watching soap operas.”

“Really?” I shifted back onto my side.

“Yep. Days of Our Lives.”

“You’re joking.”

“No.” He laughed. “We were pretty invested in the Deveraux and Brady drama.”

“Wow.” I laughed, but it was heavy. “I really am sorry about what happened to him.”

“So am I.” He exhaled heavily. “Greene was quiet, and other than Days of Our Lives, he kept to himself, but he was someone any of us could count on. He even went against my father about everything that went down with Layla. What happened to him is sad. It’s wrong. His life shouldn’t have ended that way. Worst part is that his name is now another on this list that just keeps growing longer. Greene will be mourned. He will be missed. And then his name will become the next person we’ve lost. Then the third and the fourth, and we’ll have to stop mourning him to allow room for someone else, because after a while, you don’t have enough room. You just can’t.”

Zayne dragged a hand down his face. “I know that sounds callous. Maybe like I don’t even care, but...you get used to the death. Too used to it. No need for the seven stages. You go right from shock to acceptance.”

Sadness filled me as I lay there. I knew firsthand what loss felt like, but I was also far removed from the almost weekly losses some clans experienced. The sorrow I felt in my chest wasn’t coming just from me. It was also flowing from him, a grief tinged in anger and acceptance, and I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to ease what he was feeling, and I didn’t know how to do that.

So, I did the only thing I could think of.

Wiggling toward him, I unfolded my arms and threw one over his shoulder. He stilled, but I kept squirming, weaseling my way against his chest. Once I was there, I squeezed.

Zayne didn’t move.

“I’m hugging you,” I told him, voice muffled against his chest. “Just in case you have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I figured it was that.” His voice sounded like it had when he’d first woken up. “Or you were pretending to be a seal.”

I let out a short laugh, but Zayne remained as stiff as a wall. Realizing my awkward hug was a bit of a failure, I started to pull back.

Zayne moved then, folding an arm over my waist. His fingers curled around the back of my shirt as he held me there. Then, after a few seconds, I felt his body relax against mine, but the grip on my shirt was still there.

His chest rose against mine. “Thank you.”

13

As I floated through waking up, everything smelled like fresh snow and winter. Yet I was toasty, almost too warm. It reminded me of a time I’d dozed off on the roof beside Misha while he slept in his Warden form. It had been early summer, so the sun hadn’t been too strong and the warmth had been surprisingly relaxing.

But I’d ended up with a nasty sunburn.

I was pretty sure I hadn’t fallen asleep on a roof. I started to move, but could only wiggle about an inch. Was I wrapped in a blanket cocoon? I’ve done that before, tossing and turning until blankets ended up wrapping around me like cellophane.