Page 36 of The Final Deal

I turn my back to the door to further my point.

Zakhasto realize by now that he no longer craves my blood, though. And if he doesn’t…

Maybe it’s time I push him a little more to prove my point.

Chapter 14

Feather

–Gutter King

The house is dark,and the hallway is even darker. Zak’s bedroom door is wide open; I peep around the doorframe and find moonlight illuminating the edges of blackout curtains blocking the window and a figure lying in bed beneath dark sheets. Zak breathes in slowly, deeply.

My eyes refuse to leave his sleeping image, wondering if he’s dreaming—if he’s dreamed of me like I’ve dreamed of him since I left.

His wavy black hair spills over his pillow and onto the bed. I reach out to stroke his silky locks under my fingertips as my eyes wander across his bed and body. The longing to climb into bed and wrap my arms around him grows to a fever pitch.

I was by myself in my apartment in Atlanta. It was a stark contrast to being across the house from my parents, or stuck in a van or a bus with the guys, or sharing a bed with Zak at a hotel or here at their place.

My stomach clenches at the thought of Ty when he spent the night with me a few times. It was nice having him around andwarming my bed when I felt lonely, but the thought of him now makes me grind my teeth.

He can try all he can to keep me away from the twins, but it’s not going to happen. They’re mine, forever and always, and I’m going to make sure of it.

Zak stirs in his sleep, as if me thinking about Ty has seeped into his mind and agitated him. I run my fingers through his long hair, calming whatever sleepy thoughts are causing him to frown and grunt with displeasure.

The third time I stroke his head, he nuzzles into my hand and stills with a quick, heavy breath. “Mm, babe,” he whispers, so quietly that I’m not sure if he said that or some other dreamy nonsense.

My hand rests on his cheek. Then, he twists his head and presses his lips to my palm.

He does dream about me.

I ease myself onto the edge of the bed to sit beside him. The way he tilts his face toward me, shifts his entire body to face mine… he must subconsciously know I’m here.

I hold my breath as my hand wanders, grazing down his bearded cheek to his bare chest. My palm rests over his heart to count the slow and steadythumps.

Maybe I haven’t kept his heart safe, but Our Lady of Guadalupe tattooed across his chest and down his sternum has protected it since I’ve been gone.

When I blink, images of his neck and chest covered in blood make me cringe, physically recoiling away from the memory of thinking he was on death’s doorstep.

The warmth that emanates from his flesh into mine reminds me he’s very much alive and well, though. And so am I, despite his attacks.

Apprehension grows and thickens in my throat the longer I touch him. He didn’t mean to attack me—Zak would never hurtme. But it was his teeth in my neck, his tongue lashing at my skin to drink up as much of my blood as possible before it spilled onto the ground or bed.

Even if his blood-drinking days are behind us, I have to convince myself of it, too.

I bite back the unease and drift lower down his body, exploring the tightly compacted planes of his abdomen through the knitted blanket covering him. The material is bumpy under my fingertips, but the tautness is all Zak.

I can’t complain about his new abs; he’s hot as hell with them. But he was hot as hell without them, too. He could have his round taco belly and I’d want him all the same: totally, wholly, completely.

The blanket slides down as I gently tug it off him, slow to not rouse him. I stop when he throws an arm over his eyes.

His chest resumes rising and falling at a steady pace, and I toss the rest of the blanket off him entirely. He’s shirtless and wears only a pair of gym shorts that don’t keep the contents of his package hidden now that I’m used to the darkness with the limited amount of moonlight that peeks around the curtains.

I stare at it for a long moment. Am I a terrible person for feeling up on my boyfriend in his sleep when I shouldn’t be in his room, never mind his house, in the first place?

The thought drowns with the rest of my doubts as I reach out and touch him.

God, this is deliciously wrong.

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