Page 237 of Seizing Control: Part One

He trails behind me when I carry my sleeping baby across the room.

Patiently waits as I tuck my son back into his crib.

Follows me to the bedroom door once I’m done.

“Go,” I tell him. My hand shakes as I flick up the lock. “Get out of my house.”

“Lily... sweet thing. Please.”

“I need to think, and I can’t do that with you in my face.” Looking anywhere but at Zeke, I refuse to meet his gaze, lest I yield to the pleading that I know will make my resolve weaken. I’m a sucker for my first love’s puppy-dog eyes. “Just go.”

“We need to talk, metukà shelì... I can answer your questions, explain why things played out the way they did, make you understand how things will work in the future.”

“Right now—” I pull my hand out of his grip when he tries to tug me away from the doorway. “—you’re ten steps ahead of me because I’m not even sure if I want to know your reasons, let alone hear what you’ve planned for the future without bothering to consult me.”

“Sweet thing. Listen?—”

“No.” I stalk over to his clothes and scoop the pile from the floor. Once I’m close enough, I toss them at him. He catches his suit and shirt, but his heavy boots clatter to the floor. The sight of his familiar footwear, the same brand I wear, an identical pair to the ones that broke my heart during his funeral, sets my teeth on edge. With unconcealed rage, I bite out, “Get dressed, then get lost.”

“Lily...”

“The last time Slash deserted me, I punched him in the face and kneed him in the balls.” Every ounce of wrath I’m feeling flashes in my eyes as I raggedly inhale. “You’re lucky my son is here, otherwise I’d cut your balls off for the bullshit you’ve pulled.”

Exhibiting a level of restraint that I’ve never seen before, Zeke nods sharply. He quicks dresses, and I do my best to avoid ogling his bare skin while he covers it. The man has somehow managed to return from the dead in better shape than he left. It’s annoying as hell, my uncontrollable desire for him continues to burn bright as ever, despite my growing dislike of his high-handed behaviour.

When his tattooed fingers button his collar, I catch sight of the new ink across his throat.

The thick jagged line left by my father is concealed by a phoenix tattoo.

A phoenix rising from the ashes of burning blue lilies.

“Prophetic,” I sneer. Zeke presses his fingers to the scar on his neck. My guilt flares as I recognise my culpability in the ordeal he faced. The footage Hunter and Cub showed me broke my heart, and I still have enough sympathy for the man who continues to betray me to tell him, “I’m sorry for what Brutus did to you... but it doesn’t excuse your decision to lie to me again.”

“Everything I did was to protect you.”

“And therein lies the problem.” I pull the bedroom door open and Zeke reluctantly steps across the threshold. “Because your death didn’t protect me... it destroyed me.”

He holds out something to me. “Take this.”

Against my better judgement, I reluctantly accept it.

When I go to unfurl my fingers, Zeke grabs my wrist and hauls me against him. His arm loops around my waist and his right hand cups my nape. I fight him when he tries to pull my forehead to his, a battle I lose because he’s too strong, and I’m too weak to deny my first love, even with my more than valid anger at him fuelling me.

“Listen to me carefully, metukà shelì,” Zeke tells me in a tone that brooks no arguments. “I fucked up. I know that and you know that... but I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving you from Hugh St. James.” I whimper at the ferocity in his voice. His grip on my neck tightens, and he brushes his lips over mine. “But I’m back. For you, for your children—our children. Yours, mine, and Slash’s—if he pulls his head out his arse in time... so hear me when I tell you that I’m not going anywhere. Every move I make from now on will be with your full knowledge. We’re equals, sweet thing, from this moment forward... I might have to live in the darkness for a little while longer, but with you, everything will be in the light.”

“Zeke... you can’t just?—”

“Yeah, I can.” There is an edge to his words that remind me of the old Zeke, even though he continues to enunciate like a younger clone of Gabriel Abaddon. “Told you a long time ago that we’re destiny on steroids. I won’t give up on us—not now, not ever.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Zeke kisses me hard. “I know.”

“I don’t believe your promises that things will change.”

“I know... but I can regain your trust and make you believe me if you give me time.”

My next statement is a hushed whisper filled with ghosts of past hurt and future pain. “I don’t have any faith that peace is possible between the three of us.”

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