Page 36 of Above Cursed Winds

His belabored sigh signaled the end of it before it even began. “I get it. I’ll get out of your hair, Z. Just thought I’d finish Myko’s bathroom at least.”

At the thought of his departure, a dagger lanced her heart as it fluttered pitifully in response. Sure, the Elemental had become one of her son’s very small friend group, but the slight was deeper than that. His sudden aloofness gutted her.

Turning his back on her, he checked the water once more, then crouched below the sink to fiddle with something out of sight. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

“What can I make you for dinner?”

The sound of a heavy tool clattering onto wood cabinetry met her ears, and Jeremiah jerked back into view.

“If this is some half-hearted attempt to pay back whatever debt you feel you owe me, forget it. I’m not asking you for your gratitude. I was here. I had time. It’s done. If it makes you feel any better, I’m doing it for Myko, not you.”

His hostility had taken only moments to kick back in full force. It hadn’t reared its ugly head for days, and she’d allowed herself to hope that it’d dispersed. His relentless anger still obviously churned beneath calm waters, and when he disappeared again below the sink, Zia took her cue.

Each step away from him solidified her decision and compounded her regret for how the interaction had played out.

She’d experienced more passion in those scant two minutes that she’d ever had with any other lover, and the fire he’d stoked continued to burn through her veins. Regardless, Zia couldn’t allow it to continue. Sehrin was the only man Key had ever told her was immune to her curse. Any other relationship she would be willing to enter into could always end in heartbreak.

The eyes of each plastic dinosaur stared at her in disappointment as she walked out of Myko’s room. Her chest tightened with an indecipherable feeling, as if each stride away from Jeremiah was cleaving her soul in two.

Zia found herself seated on the lowest stair.

Myko’s video games pinged in the living room, and the sound of tools echoed from upstairs. From where she sat in the foyer, no one could see her or hear her cry.

Chapter Eighteen

Anger was an old friend, volatile but fiercely protective.

It pulsed beneath the layer of malice he’d developed as armor. When Zia had stonewalled him, his deep-seated fear of abandonment had boiled up, erupting out of his words and actions. The Raeth had her reasons to push him away—after all, he was here to investigate her, and his days were numbered—and she was merely protecting herself from the inevitable.

It still hadn’t softened the blunt edge of her rejection.

Rukia had abandoned Jeremiah to his own devices, opting for sarcasm whenever they interacted these days. Tyee, the fourth wheel to their trio, was away more often than not, and almost never deemed Jeremiah an important stop along the journey of his nomadic life. Gideon’s retreat from his life had been the worst of them all, the most final—until it wasn’t. He’d experienced the devastation of true loss, been powerless to stop it, and he hadn’t ever recovered.

For an immortal, death was merely a mortal machination. A mark on the inevitable revolving door of life where time ceased to continue. Those who weathered time without withering had no fear of something that never grew closer.

Only, Gideon’s end had been messy, avoidable, and utterly devastating. And Jeremiah had sat by, powerlessly, and watched.

The familiar echo of rage burned within him, as fresh as the day it started. He shoved his tools in his toolbox without finesse. Seconds later, he was stalking out of Myko’s room.

Before he even got to the stairs, his instincts prickled. The air around him swelled against his skin, urging him forward, quietly and cautious. Then he heard it.

A sob. A sniffle. Another cry.

Guilt instantly plagued him, and when he saw the woman’s huddled form at the base of the stairs, he winced. From where he stood, she looked so vulnerable, her radiant nature hidden in a slight frame.

He knew her pain was a direct result of his spiteful comments. Soundlessly, he floated toward her, his feet hovering a foot about each stair. He didn’t want to surprise her, but he didn’t want her to run, either.

“I’m sorry, Z.”

Startled, she leapt to her feet and pivoted in a defensive position, a dagger teleporting into her hand within milliseconds. The fire that’d been smothered beneath her tears had reignited, those violet eyes blazing with the shock of his unannounced intrusion.

“Sorry?” She scoffed as the dagger disappeared. “What for, exactly? Insinuating I’m indebted to you or that I’m unable to provide for my son?”

With his own words thrown back in his face, he balked. “Both.”

“I never asked you to work on my house, Jeremiah, and I most certainly don’t need your pity.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m more than capable of working or contracting work on my own home, I simply believed the others had higher priority than I did.”

His features pinched. “I know.”

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