Page 81 of Stone Cold Touch

“I’m really hoping you don’t blame yourself,” he said, angling his long body forward. “But knowing you, you probably do.”

“Well, I did slap the guy with a Bible.” My stomach twisted at the reminder. “I’m sure the situation could’ve been handled better.”

“But you didn’t pull the trigger. You also didn’t kill the guy.” His voice dropped. “I did.”

“But I—”

His hands curled around mine, startling me. “Don’t put that shit on your head. You have enough to worry about.”

Part of the frustration wiggling its way around my core was mine, but there was a hard edge that didn’t belong to me. A disturbance I couldn’t fully understand that came from deep within...Roth.The longer he had my hands, the clearer the emotions grew, like clouds parting and revealing the sun. Nipping at the heels of frustration was another emotion...similar to one I’d felt from Zayne.

A harsh breath roared out of me and I started to pull my hands free. He didn’t let go at first but finally relented. My fingers slipped out of his, eliciting a rush of shivers up my arms.

“What?” he asked, his stare piercing.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

Roth didn’t say anything else.

Neither did I.

Later that afternoon, I watched Izzy shift back and forth while Drake clutched Jasmine’s leg. She would bend down every so often, idly ruffling the toddler’s red curls while he sucked his thumb.

Izzy was as much a natural at shifting as she was a handful. She raced around the living room at warp speed, one little wing flapping while the other drooped to the side. Several times she launched herself into the air when she neared Drake, causing him to shriek in terror.

For the most part, I was safely tucked in the corner of the couch, hunkered down in my hoodie. The house felt like an icebox to me, but probably not to Danika, who kept intercepting Izzy just as she would fling herself at me.

When it neared the hour before dinner, I left to head upstairs. Dinners had been awkward for weeks now and I’d rather scrounge for leftovers than sit through suspicious looks.

I passed the kitchen, spying Morris at the island. He was chopping up veggies with the kind of knife serial killers would covet. He glanced up and his dark skin crinkled at the eyes as he smiled. He waved the knife happily.

If it were anyone else, I would’ve been concerned. I waved back and then climbed the stairs. At the top landing, a weird shiver skated down my spine. I turned, half expecting to find someone giving me the evil eye from the floor below, but no one was there.

I could hear the distant laugh of Izzy and the low wail of Drake, but the feeling lingered. I shivered, shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie as I shook my head. Recent events had made me paranoid, rightfully so.

Turning, my attention fell to Zayne’s closed door. He’d gone to sleep when we’d gotten home from the bakery, something that was much needed. I knew he’d be rising soon to get in a workout before he sat down to eat. I crept to the door, my fist hovering for a second, but for reasons I’d probably never know, I opened it without knocking.

He wasn’t standing in the middle of his room half-naked nor was he where he liked to be when he entered a deep sleep, which was by the large picture window. Some of the Wardens liked to perch on the rooftop, much like the gargoyle stonework adorning churches and schools. Not Zayne. He’d liked that window since I could remember.

My gaze drifted to his large bed...and there he was. The corners of my lips tipped up. He was sprawled in the center of his bed in his human form, lying on his stomach. A sheet was wrapped around his hips and the corded muscles of his back were relaxed. One cheek rested on the curve of his elbow and he was facing the door, his lips parted. Thick lashes fanned the tips of his cheeks and those lashes had to be the envy of every mascara ad out there.

I quietly closed the door behind me and approached the bed. In his sleep, he looked much younger than he was, at ease, and, in a way, vulnerable. No one seeing him this way would believe that he could be so dangerous or deadly when awake.

Knowing I shouldn’t be in here, I still sat on the edge of the bed and my gaze tracked down the line of his spine. I didn’t really know why I’d come, but all I could think of was what he’d asked.

Give us a chance.

My heart stuttered. Could we really do this? I still wasn’t sure if trying really was the right thing, but not doing so was like turning my back on the history we shared. As my eyes soaked in all the golden flesh on display, I couldn’t help but wonder if we would’ve found ourselves in this moment even if Roth had never come into the picture.

At the thought of him, knots twisted in my stomach, a mixture of lingering hurt, the vapid bite of confusion...and guilt. My hands curled helplessly in my lap. I hated feeling that way—hated that I was still affected by Roth and that I could feel fault in any of this. He was the one who’d pushed me away...pushed me right into the arms of Zayne.

Which were really nice arms, I thought, staring at his biceps.

I felt like a total creeper.

Yeah, time to get moving. I started to get up, but a hand curled around my wrist. Gasping, I looked back down at Zayne.

One eye was visible and a sleepy smile pulled at his lips. “Where’re you going?”

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