Page 71 of Taken

And I could like you, Zaq Kral. A lot.

I stilled, drenched in the ice water of common sense. Nearby, an owl hooted.

I dropped his wrist. Stepped back. “We should go.”

A crushing sadness gripped my chest.

Because we hadn’t met in a normal, get-to-know-each-other way. And we couldn’t like each other or have any kind of a future together.

I was a slayer. And he was a syndicate prince.

Zaq’s smile dimmed. “Yeah. Right.”

Back at the tomb, Zaq brushed me aside when I went to move the slab aside. “I’ll do it.”

“Be my guest.” I watched as he heaved it out of the way. Clearly, he was recovering.

I looked into the bolt-hole and felt a frisson of panic. Right now, I couldn’t deal with being confined in a small space with Zaq Kral.

“You go on down,” I told him. “I have to do…something.”

“Suit yourself.” He ignored the ladder and dropped lightly to the dirt floor. “I’m going to bed.”

I nodded and left, wandering aimlessly among the nearby tombs. Away from Zaq, I let my shoulders sag.

If only he wasn’t a Kral.

If only I’d met him some other time, some other place.

Right then I wanted my mom so bad I could taste it. I literally ached to see her one more time. She wouldn’t even have to speak, just put her arms around me and tell me everything was going to okay, that I’d work it out.

Hot tears stung my eyes. I swiped at them with the heels of my hands and realized I’d come almost to the cemetery entrance. I turned back.

The shadows next to the gate wavered like a ripple passing through dark water. Someone was there. Watching me.

My heart jerked. My knees locked. I grabbed my blade, released the catch. I’d dropped my glamour but it was too late to pull it over myself again.

I cursed under my breath. I knew better than this. Emotion wasn’t something I could afford to indulge in.

Leo de Froulay emerged from the ripple, blond mane pulled back into a ponytail and wearing a suit the same midnight blue as the sky above us. He looked me up and down like he’d caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.

“What are you up to, ma p’tite?”

My palms were sweaty. I adjusted my grip on the blade’s steel handle.

How had he found me here in Lachaise? And had he seen me Zaq?

“Nothing.” I schooled my voice to be flat. Thank God he couldn’t read my emotions like he could a human’s. “If this is about that intel you asked for, I’ve been meaning to contact you.”

I held my breath, waiting for de Froulay to brush that aside to ask about Zaq.

But he replied, “You found something?”

I relaxed. Luck was with me. He must have just arrived.

“Yes,” I said. “You were right. Something’s up.”

“Ah, yes?”

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