(ZANE)
I sit on the porch for a while after Blaine leaves, lost in thought.
Demons want me dead. Nephilim warriors who protect mankind think it is too dangerous for me to return home. I kind of, most definitely, have a crush on one of them.
What will happen to me? To my business? I miss my dusty shelves and the odd knick knacks that cover them. I miss that stupid old desk in the corner of the shop that no one wants. I even miss the annoying cuckoo clock that scares the crap out of me every time it goes off.
When the chill in the air becomes too much, I walk back into the mansion. The ache in my ass reminds me of a certain grumpy someone. I smile, then shake my head.
Falling for someone like Blaine will only hurt me in the end. Better to accept that now before I let my heart get carried away. Even if he did want more than sex, how could it ever work between us? He is immortal. We belong in two different worlds.
"So you're the human I've heard so much about."
I glance around the living room before seeing a man tucked into a corner nook. He stands from the window bench and walks over to me, his movements fluid. Graceful. Brown hair falls to the middle of his ears, and his slender build has subtle muscle tones. His loose-fitting tank top hangs off his thin frame, showing his shoulders and the tanned skin on his sides, and his frayed skinny jeans emphasize his long legs.
He looks to be an inch or two taller than me. And Jesus. He is beautiful. Maybe even more so than Valerian, which says a lot.
"H…Hi," I stammer . "I'm Zane."
"I'm well aware who you are." His emerald-green eyes study me. They are surrounded by impossibly long, dark lashes. His ethnic features kind of turned my brain to goo.
"You're Envy, right?" I ask.
"Cassius," he corrects, eyes narrowing.
"I thought you'd be more impressive, but you're average at best. What a disappointment."
"Um. Sorry? I guess?"
"I wonder what Blaine sees in you," he says, though unlike before, his tone isn't bitter. He seems genuinely curious. "He hasn't wasted this much time with a human in centuries. Yet here you are, invading our private space."
"He's only keeping me here until it's safe for me to leave."
"That's where you're wrong, mortal." Cassius leans toward me. "His scent is all over you. He wouldn't have marked you if he planned on letting you go."
"Marked me? What does that mean?"
"Ask him." He casts me one final look before walking to his perch near the window, plopping back down on the cushion and focusing on his tablet. "Stop staring at me. It makes me uncomfortable."
I avert my gaze from him. Thereon was right. Cassius has a major attitude problem. Is it because of his sin? An envious person wouldn't exactly be a ray of fucking sunshine. Maybe he had no control over it.
Once in my room, I change into shorts and a plain T-shirt before walking back downstairs and heading toward the pool area. The hot tub sounds like a great way to help me relax. Lights illuminate the pool, and the reflection of the water bounces off the surrounding windows.
I grab a towel from the rack before going over to the hot tub and stepping out of my shoes.
Chills spread along my skin as I stick one foot in, then the other, and slowly sink chest-deep into the hot water. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, feeling my tight muscles begin to unwind.
What did Cassius mean when he said Blaine had marked me?
I touch the bite mark on my neck, one that remains tender beneath my fingertips. I'd thought he was just being a little kinky when he bit me, but did it mean more than that? Was it some kind of weird possession thing? I thought of all the wolf shifter books I'd read—a wonderfully smutty guilty pleasure of mine—and how they'd do shit like that to mark their mates. Vampires did it too. But Blaine is a Nephilim. I'd never read any kind of mythology on them.
An hour or so later, I return to my room and take a quick shower before sitting by the window and peering out across the sea. I hadn't realized how much I relied on my phone until now that I am forced to go almost a week without it. No checking social media, no playing that jewel-crushing game I am embarrassingly addicted to. No pulling up Google to research Nephilim.
All that aside, it is actually nice to unplug from the world for a while. And if I have to unplug, where better to do it than a fancy mansion by the sea surrounded by beautiful men?
I slide into bed around midnight, putting my glasses on the nightstand, and turn on the TV for background noise.
As the narrator of Ancient Aliens talks about stone ruins found in the middle of nowhere, I shut my eyes, comforted by the familiarity of it. I can almost pretend I am in my loft.
I wake sometime later to the scent of sandalwood and something warm pressing to my temple. I cracked open my lids and see Blaine. The light from the TV lights up one side of his face. He looks exhausted even with my blurry vision.
"I apologize for waking you," he whispers , moving away. "Go back to sleep."
"Wait." I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Don't go."
He stares at my hand before looking at me. "I shouldn't have come in here."
"Why did you?" I ask, my voice croaky from sleep. I become a little more alert and remember the sensation of something warm on my temple, like soft lips. "You kissed me."
"No, I didn't." His expression hardens. "You must've been dreaming."
"You're a horrible liar, Blaine."
A light huff escaped his lips before he puts even more distance between us, stepping toward the door.
"Go to sleep, Zane."
"Did you mark me?"
His shoulders tense, and he glares at me.
"What?"
"Cassius said you marked me. What does that mean?"
"I'm going to kill him," he said in a deep voice. "It means nothing."
"Am I going to turn into some kind of angel-human hybrid now? Like when a vampire bites someone? Do you have venom? Will I grow wings?"
Blaine sharply exhales and strides back over to the bed, the mattress dipping as he sits down.
"No. You're not going to turn into anything. You'll stay human."
"What does the mark mean then? What does it do?"
"I'm tired, Zane." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Can we talk about this in the morning?"
Before I could respond, he stretches out beside me and kicks off his shoes into the floor.
I scoot over to give him more room, and he turns to his side and throws an arm across my stomach, closing his eyes.
The tension leaves his body as minutes tick by, and his breathing started to slow. I settle in closer to him, pressing my face against the front of his shirt. Why does he have to smell so damn good?
His arm tightens around me, and he nuzzles the top of my head before stilling again. He falls asleep moments later, his soft breaths tickling my cheek. Given how quickly he'd left my room last night after we fucked, I suspect he prefers to sleep alone. He must've been more tired than I thought. Fine with me.
I breathe him in and relaxed on the exhale. A night in his arms doesn't sound so bad.