Page 4 of The Demon's Sinful Serenade
CHAPTER TWO
ZANE
Sweat dripped down my forehead as I delivered another blow to the heavy bag. The empty gym echoed with just my breathing and the rhythmic impact of my strikes. No banter. No challenges. Just me and my increasingly shitty mood, working through frustrations that had been building all damn day.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I'd been looking forward to tonight. Beer. Bad action movies. Kaz giving me shit about my taste in both. But then the royal court had summoned him—again—and he'd left with barely a word. Third time in two months. Some diplomatic bullshit with Talia that apparently couldn't wait.
I understood duty. Hell, duty was practically tattooed on my soul at birth. I wouldn't have minded so much if it had been scheduled. We'd adapted to far worse disruptions over the years.
I switched to kicks, driving my heel into the bag with enough force to make the mounting bracket groan.
Stop being pathetic. They're happy. Be happy for them.
It wasn't just Kaz's absence. Malak was off at some tech conference doubling as a recon mission, with Rava assisting.Everyone paired off or occupied while I rattled around our base like the last beer in a six-pack.
I landed a vicious combination that sent the bag swinging wildly. The physical exertion wasn't helping as much as it should. My thoughts kept circling back to the same uncomfortable truth: I was envious.
Not of Kaz's royal responsibilities, fuck that. I was envious of what he'd found with Talia. What Rava had found with Zral. The way they moved around each other, anticipating needs, sharing silent conversations across crowded rooms. That bone-deep certainty that someone had your six, always and without question.
Meanwhile, I had jack shit except an office cot and a witch's cryptic prediction that haunted my dreams. Fat lot of comfort that was in the dead of night.
"Your flames will burn brightest in the shadow of death."
The witch's words whispered through my head, exactly as they had six months ago in that smoky Prague dive bar. Hells, I don't think her mouth even moved. But her withered hand had clutched mine, and eyes like pale fire had stared at me,throughme, with unnerving focus.
I'd laughed it off at the time. Witches loved their dramatic pronouncements, especially to demons. But on nights like this, alone with nothing but my thoughts and a punching bag, I wondered. What flames? What shadow of death? Was I supposed to look forward to finding my mate only to lose them? Some fucking prophecy.
The sound of knocking interrupted my brooding. Faint but insistent, coming from the main entrance. I ignored it. Business hours were clearly posted, and we weren't exactly running a 24-hour convenience store for supernatural emergencies.
The knocking continued, more insistent.
"For fuck's sake," I muttered, grabbing a towel to wipe my face.
I stalked over to the security panel and pulled up the front entrance camera. A woman stood there, baby blue hair gleaming under the stoop light. She wore a leather jacket despite the rain, clutching it closed at her throat. Her free hand rose to pound on the door again.
Then I saw a second figure behind her, and frowned. Poppy Marsh. The baker who'd been supplying Malak with his sugar fix for months now. He'd kept tight-lipped about her, but I was pretty sure he wanted to nibble onallher buns.
What the hell is she doing here?
I jabbed the intercom button. "We're closed. Come back during business hours."
Blue startled and looked up, searching for the camera, giving me a clear view of her face.
Attractive in a sharp-edged way. Determined set to her jaw. Eyes that held a storm. And oddly familiar.
"I might not be alive come morning," she said, her voice crackling through the system, "so I hope you're comfortable being haunted by me for the rest of your life."
I snorted. That was some grade-A dramatics, but the edge in her voice didn't sound like someone playing games. And there was something about her eyes that suggested she'd seen enough shit to justify the paranoia. That Poppy was with her only added weight to the situation.
Against my better judgment, I hit the entry buzzer. "Fine. Wait in the lobby."
I tugged a shirt over my head as I made my way through the compound. Normally I'd shower first, but something told me they weren't wait-patiently types for very long. I could still feel the sweat cooling on my skin as I pushed through the double doors into our reception area.
Blue stood just inside, hair darkened by the rain. Poppy was shaking out her umbrella, her eyes darting around the room with barely concealed curiosity.
Blue turned at the sound of my entrance, and our eyes met across the room. Her scent hit me like a kick to the nuts.
