Page 6 of The Final Deal

A full-blown smirk appears on Zak’s face, revealing what he doesn’t want to: he loves the recognition, the attention.

“A’ight, I gotta get this princess back to Oma’s before she turns into a pumpkin,” Shannon says. “Maybe skip the tacos next time so you’re at practice when you’re supposed to be.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I give Drea another bear hug. “Go easy on your dad and oma with tonight’s puzzle.”

Shannon pauses to slip an arm around my shoulders and kisses my head. “Thanks, Abby.”

Zak avoids my stare and busies himself with tidying as Shannon and Drea walk out the door and leave me alone with the twins.

“Z, you’re a neat freak, but this is bad, even for you,” I say loudly.

“Maybe if I stay busy, I won’t remember how good you taste,” he replies under his breath.

Calm the fuck down—that’s not what he meant and you know it.

All it took just two days ago for him to lose his shit was one drop. Before that, it was a small cut on the palm of my hand from my guitar.

The way his eyes glowed when he drained me on the bridge makes me stagger backward.

Maybe neither of us are ready for what “after” looks like.

Zak abandons his tidying and heads out the door, and the sound of it slamming shut behind him sends the message loud and clear.

He loves me enough to let me go.

Chapter 3

My Chains

–Unlocking the Truth

A familiar darknesscreeps into the edges of my mind; tendrils tease helpless thoughts to the forefront and remind me of what I’ve done to him and what he’s done to me.

Maybe it’s better if I love Zak enough to let him go, too. After all the damage, after the hand I’ve been dealt by the devil…

Bare feet pad over vinyl wood flooring and follow me outside. A cool hand grips my bicep and gently coaxes me to stop in the middle of the walkway between the studio and the house.

A figure passes through the windows; Zak’s face appears, peering out over the backyard and the pool to the left of me that glares from the sun setting over the trees. Water slaps against the sides of the pool, each wet chop keeping time of how long I stand in the hot sun and watch Zak hide from me behind glass.

The hand on my arm squeezes. “The other night scared the shit outta him,” Adrian says softly. “Scared both of us.”

The coolness of his flesh sinks into mine and spreads the cruel chill of doubt through my head. “I’m sorry.”

Zak moves away from the window and disappears into the darkness of the house.

“Maybe one day he’ll be able to be around you longer than practice and be fine, but I don’t think it’s gonna be anytime soon, princesa. He’s been beating himself up and I don’t know what to do other than keep you separated.”

My nose scrunches and I frown at my feet. Cheap black chanclas show off the shimmery navy-blue color on my toes and reminds me that it was barely three weeks ago when I returned from Atlanta and found myself staring up at a darker stormy sky, dying in Zak’s arms because he turned and couldn’t help himself. We didn’t know—how could we have known just how deep the devil’s claws had sunk into any of us until then?

I turn around to face Adrian. The sun creates a halo effect behind his head, but it doesn’t stop the honey in his eyes from glowing or the golden ring in his nose from glinting.

Our fingers intertwine. “Be patient, princesa,” he murmurs. “That’s all I’m askin’.”

My shoulders drop, and so does my gaze. Just because Zak and I made up two days ago doesn’t mean everything can immediately return to normal, anyway.

I can wait a little longer.

Ihaveto wait a little longer—for their sake.

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