neck, my arms wrapping tightly around him. Zain gently caressed my back in a soothing motion, as one would to console another. In the arms of my Nightmare, I had never felt safer.
After a few seconds—or an eternity—Zain chuckled and pulled away to look at me with an amused smile. I eyed him questioningly.
“There are a few agents outside growing increasingly worried that something highly unfortunate has happened to you,” he said with a sadistic grin.
“Of fuck!” I whispered, mortified.
Of course, they would be concerned. We’d been here for far too long, with a closed door at that. I also bet they’d heard a couple of raised voices from our earlier argument. Freeing myself from Zain’s embrace, I made to open the door, but he stopped me. In response to my stunned look, he quietly fixed my hair and then the sleeveless shirt I was wearing.
My jaw dropped in the face of such a thoughtful gesture. Zain wanted to cry from the rooftops that I was his. And yet, when my impatience would have involuntarily outed me, he protected me. When he’d given me his word that he would grant me some time to come to terms with my stupid fears of what others might think, I’d never expected him to go out of his way to ensure I indeed got that time. Talk about paradoxical for a psychopath.
“You are something else, you know?” I said with undisguised awe and gratitude.
“I know,” Zain said smugly, returning to his insufferable asshole persona.
“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” I said, rolling my eyes.
He chuckled then opened the door, exiting first with a swagger clearly aimed at provoking whoever stood outside. That wretched man would drive me insane.
“Lost something, boys?” Zain asked in a taunting voice.
As I exited the bathroom, I saw Agent Tate and Agent Peters stretching their necks to look past Zain’s imposing body with worried eyes. The obvious relief on their faces when they finally spotted me further increased my guilt and my urge to smack Zain across the back of the head. And yet, the subtle tension draining from his back made me realize my Nightmare—or should I say my boyfriend?—had gone ahead to be the one in harm’s way instead of me if things went south. I was getting whiplash from being loved by a protective psychopath.
“Sorry, guys,” I said, scurrying in front of Zain to keep him from further needling them. “It appears that having a woman teach a man how to shave was not the smartest decision. We’re ready to go.”
Although they weren’t fooled in the least, both agents nodded, and stepped out of the way. Agent Tate held the door for us while we made our way to the cafeteria. I didn’t know what thoughts had crossed the two men’s minds, or what they presumed had gone on in there. It shocked me to realize I didn’t care that they knew I’d lied. In retrospect, a part of me now wished at least one of them had shown disapproval to see if my reaction would have still been the same.
We entered the cafeteria to find Riley and Julia finishing their meal. Belinda—Thomson’s right hand in managing the program—was also sitting with them. I waved at them then picked up some food from the buffet behind Zain who had already begun piling up some on his plate. But, as soon as he was done, he headed straight for the most isolated table in the room, making eye contact with no one. I hesitated then cast an apologetic look towards my fellow mentors. I hadn’t seen them since that first breakfast together and wanted to catch up with them before we all split-up tomorrow, once the Mist ended.
Riley winked in a ‘it’s okay’ kind of way, while Julia’s gaze remained locked on my Nightmare with an unreadable expression on her face. For some reason, that made me uneasy. Catching up to Zain, I settled down next to him and gave him a stern look.
“What?” he asked, in a slightly grumpy tone, wondering what he had done this time.
“First, proper etiquette dictates that you’re not supposed to start eating until everyone else is seated with a full plate in front of them,” I said matter-of-factly, already knowing he would flip it the bird.
“Proper etiquette can go choke on a fat cock,” he said dismissively. “Why would I sit there starving while my meal grows cold to wait on someone dallying? What’s second?” he asked before shoving a mouthful of hash-browns into