But then Roth had shown up, and as a demon, he was in the no-soul category. At first, I’d loathed his very existence, and looking back, it had a lot to do with how his words and actions made me question everything the Wardens had taught me. By nature, demons weren’t something you’d invite in for dinner, but not all of them were the wretched creatures I’d been conditioned to abhor to a near-fanatical degree. They had their purpose, too. Every second I’d spent with Roth, I’d fallen a little harder for him, and I’d shared so much with him before he’d sacrificed himself to save Zayne from the fiery pits of Hell. I’d thought I’d lost him then, but he’d returned—only things had been different between us when he had. Roth had distanced himself, to protect me.
To shield me from Abbot.
Then there was everything that had happened with Zayne. I’d been raised with him, spent years idolizing and loving him from afar. For the longest time, he’d been my everything, but he’d been a Warden and I’d only been half Warden—and worse, half demon. Between his soul and my genetic background, he’d been off-limits. A friendship with him, the bond we shared, had been a glimpse of a future that every female Warden was assured of but that was never on the table for me. That knowledge had done nothing to stop my growing feelings, and when Roth had returned from the pits, pushing me away, he’d pushed me right into the arms of Zayne, the boy I never thought would return my affections.
I’d been wrong about that.
I’d been wrong about a lot of things.
Zayne’s eyes flew open. “But you didn’t.”
“Barely.” That pressure returned, weighing on me as I felt again the horror of the night I realized I’d been feeding on Zayne instead of...instead of kissing him back. “I can see where I’ve taken some. I can tell in your aura.”
“I’m fine—”
“No thanks to me. The only reason I’d been able to...to kiss you before then was because of Bambi. When she was on me, I could control my abilities.” I slipped my hand free, pressing my lips together as I shook my head. “You can’t overlook what I did to you, and I know you can’t be a hundred percent okay.”
Zayne stared at me, and then he lifted his hand, thrusting his fingers through his hair. “You stopped in time. Other than feeling a little tired and...grumpier than normal, I am fine, Layla-bug.”
My heart squeezed at the use of my nickname. “Grumpier than normal?”
His brows knitted and for a moment, I didn’t think he was going to answer. “My temper is easier to ignite nowadays. I don’t know if that has to do with what happened between us or if it’s the natural result of everything else going on lately.”
I think I knew the answer to that. When someone’s soul was stripped away, even a tiny piece, it changed who they were in some way. Maybe it made some more prone to mood swings, others more reckless and others violent.
And apparently for Zayne, he’d lost a bit of his kindness, a little of what made him absolutely wonderful, and I had done that to him. While it hadn’t been on purpose, neither of us, especially me, had shown any level of common sense by trying to be together. Neither of us had delved too deeply into why all of a sudden I could do things like kissing without taking a soul.
Then again, as Zayne had pointed out once, there was a lot more that we could’ve done that hadn’t involved our mouths touching.
Strangely, sitting across from him, I realized I didn’t feel the longing to feed. It was the first that I’d noticed its absence. Since my clan had turned on me, I’d been staying with Roth and Cayman, and as neither owned a soul, I hadn’t even thought about feeding on one—something that I’d spent seventeen years fighting the urge to do.
Now, though I was once again surrounded by souls, the urge simply wasn’t there.
Maybe today’s events had shocked me bad enough that even that was affected.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally, flipping my gaze to the street beyond the window. It was the second week of December, and the skies above Washington, DC, were gray and the wind brisk, carrying the scent of snow in the air. “I’m so sorry, Zayne.”
“Don’t apologize,” he was quick to say. “Don’t ever apologize to me. I don’t regret anything that happened between us. Not a moment.”
Did I?
“Anyway, it’s not me I want to talk about. Are you okay?” he asked. “What they did—”
“I’m fine,” I said, and it felt like a lie. “I was healed by the witches. You know, the ones who worship Lilith. They gave Cayman something for me to drink and it worked.” Which reminded me of the fact that Cayman had to promise something in return and none of us knew what bargain he’d struck yet. “I have no idea what they gave me.”
“That’s kind of concerning,” he replied wryly.
My lips twitched, and when I looked up, our gazes met, and then held. He leaned in, placing his elbows onto the table. “Layla, I—”
A shadow fell over our table, and when I looked up, I saw Stacey’s aura first. It was a faint, mossy green. A common color. Pure souls were rare, and the darker the shade of the aura, the more likely it was they had sinned. Stacey’s blotchy face broke my heart. I slid over, sending Zayne a glance. The look he wore promised that we weren’t done with the conversation.
“How are you doing?” I asked, knowing it was a stupid question.
“I’m okay.” She didn’t sound okay. “I just needed a moment or five.” It was more like ten, but she could have as many moments as she needed. She paused, smoothing the back of her hands over her cheeks. “I’m okay, right?”
My smile was weak as tears burned the back of my eyes. “Yes.” I reached over, slipping my arm over her shoulders. “But if you’re not, that’s okay, too.”
A tremor coursed through her as she leaned in, resting her head on my shoulder. Usually it was hard if someone got this close, but again, the urge that existed deep within wasn’t gnawing at my insides. “He’s dead,” she whispered.
I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to take deep, even breaths to loosen the messy knot in my throat. All I wanted to do was hold on to Stacey and break down, because Sam... God, Sam was gone, and it was like a thousand razor blades were churning in my stomach, but I had to pull it together for Stacey. She’d known Sam a lot longer than me, since grade school, and she had fallen in love with him. Her pain was a priority over mine.
Keeping my arm around her, I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t know what to say in situations like this. Even when I’d thought Roth was gone, I had hope that he was still alive. This was different. There would be no surprises. Sam would not reappear one day. No one close to me had ever died before, and I knew my mind hadn’t fully processed the reality of him being gone. So I just held her as I stared at the door, blindly watching the people streaming in and out. At some point Zayne got up and returned with two cups of hot chocolate. I barely tasted the sweetness.
I don’t know how much time passed before I felt the tingle of awareness alerting me to a demon’s presence. Across from us, Zayne stiffened, but when the door closed, it was Roth. He strolled to our table, and Zayne scooted over. Normally, I would’ve burst out laughing seeing them sitting side by side.
Neither of them looked exactly comfortable.
There was a woodsy scent that clung to Roth’s clothes, as if he’d been near a bonfire. “Took care of it,” he told Stacey. “Your downstairs is pretty much shot. The fire department is already on the way. Just remember you didn’t go home after school. You came here to meet Layla and Zayne.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded as she circled her hands around the cup of hot chocolate. “Got it.”
Roth tilted his head to the side, his brows furrowed as he studied her. “You’re going to do fine with this.”
When Stacey nodded again, he reached across the table, his hand veering to the left. He snatched up my cup of hot chocolate. Taking a sip, he didn’t even look in my direction.
“Help yourself,” I muttered under my breath.
His lips twitched. “So what’s the game plan, Stony?”
A muscle twitched along Zayne’s jaw. He hated that nickname. “Game plan in regards to what exactly?”
“The Lilin,” Roth replied, as if the answer should be obvious.
I stiffened. “I don’t think now is the time to discuss this.”
Golden eyes drifted from me to Stacey. There was a pause. “Good point.”
“No,” Stacey said, twisting toward me. “This is the perfect time.”
“But—”
“That thing in my house wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t him,” she said, her voice rising. A couple by the door glanced over at us with frowns on their faces. “So when you talk about it, the Lilin, you aren’t talking about Sam.” Her voice caught. “That thing is not Sam.”
Zayne shifted forward in the booth. “Are you sure, Stacey?”
“Positive,” she whispered.
Chest aching, I glanced at the boys, and then nodded. “Okay.”