Page 92 of Paramour of Sin
And it occurred to me then that Iwantedto be kept.
I’d been in love with Zane for forever, and I’d wanted Lord Zebulon for a while, too. Now that I’d experienced them together, I didn’t particularly care for the idea ofnotkeeping them.
Which placed me in a rather awkward position.
Because we’d never discussed the long-term, and I doubted we ever would.
Zane shrugged. “We attended Underworld University together. She loved that move.”
“Did you…?” I trailed off, realizing now wasn’t the right time for this question.
But Zane caught on to what I was asking anyway, and he huffed out a humorless laugh. “No.Fuckno.” He glanced at Lord Zebulon. “No offense.”
Zeb waved him away. “None taken,” he said quietly, but his gaze when he spoke was on me. Brow furrowed. Clearly wanting to say something. But whatever he considering saying, he dismissed, as he refocused on the footage. “How the fuck is Amarella still alive? I watched that bitch die.”
His tone reminded me of the day I delivered Evangeline’s message.
Caustic. Cold.Angry.
His ire made my knees tremble, my instinct to bow overwhelming every fiber of me being. But he caught my elbow before I could fall into a position of submission. “Kneel and I’ll end up fucking you right here,” he said, his grip tightening. Then he grabbed my chin with his opposite hand and forced my gaze to his. “I’m not angry with you, little one. I’m infuriated by the situation.”
“I-I know,” I whispered. “It’s just…”
“Instinctual,” Zane replied for me, his palm finding my lower back. “I know.” He pulled me to his side, his strength holding me upright as Zebulon released my jaw. But he kept his hand on my elbow, his thumb drawing circles against my skin beneath the fabric of my borrowed dress-shirt.
That little touch soothed some of my desire to bend, granting me the ability to breathe again.
Gleason traced a path at the top of Amarella’s head. “Could there be some sort of shifting magic at play?”
Lord Zebulon shook his head. “No. That’s not one of Amarella’s abilities. I would have known.”
Silence fell among us, Lord Zebulon’s tension mounting by the minute.
“I’m going to pull everything we have on Jaxon Trevor,” Gleason said into the quiet. “And I’ll ask Eve to bump him up on the interview list.”
“Good. Do that,” Lord Zebulon said, his voice dark. “I need to make some phone calls.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Zebulon
By phone calls, I meant house calls.
Specifically, tomyhouse.
To talk to Ragus.
Gleason sent me the surveillance files of Creek talking to my second, and I replayed them for Ragus in my office. He watched with a dispassionate expression before glancing at me. “He invited me to the club for drinks. I accepted out of curiosity.”
“And?” I pressed.
“All he wanted to talk about was you, which is a rather common occasion for me.” He sat in the chair across from my desk and crossed one leg casually over the other. “However, I did find his heritage interesting. Usually, only demons ask me about you. Not Nephilim. Which is why I put a Tracker on him.”
I leaned back in my executive chair behind my desk and clasped my hands in my lap. “You put a Tracker on him?”
He dipped his chin.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
