“I’ll even throw in a couple of cases of root beer.”
“Mmm. Root beer. People who don’t like root beer are monsters. That’s a great deal.” I lowered my head, stopping a few inches from his. In the soft buttery glow of the lamp, I saw his eyes go half-mast, and the look he gave me, even if he was unaware of it, even if it meant nothing, melted me. “But I can do that all by myself and still keep both my feet off the ground and then some. I refuse your deal.”
Zayne chuckled. “Then I’m going to have to come up with a better deal.”
“Yeah, you are.”
His lower lip slipped between his teeth as his grip on my hips tightened, both actions eliciting a deep, clenching sensation inside me. I felt the tension in the tendons of his hands, the power in his arms, and the flex of his muscles in his forearms and biceps. He was going to lift me up. Maybe settle me on my feet. Or maybe settle me against him.
I knew I shouldn’t allow it, because that ZAYNE drawer was still cracked open, but I didn’t step back and put distance between us. Those pale wolf eyes met mine, and our gazes connected. We connected. He didn’t move. Neither did I. Nothing was spoken between us.
A car horn blared. Zayne dropped his hands as if his palms were burned. I froze, stuck between damning the car horn to Hell and being thankful for the interruption. Then I turned sideways and dragged in deep breaths of exhaust and the sweet, lemony scent of a nearby magnolia tree. I reined in my hormones and latched on desperately to my common sense.
Zayne walked a few feet ahead, hands fisted at his sides. He stayed close to the wall, within reach, probably in case I decided to throw myself off, which sounded great at the moment. Though, I’d been right earlier. A fall from this height would damage only my ego.
Silence ticked by, and I tried to sense through the connection what he was feeling, but I couldn’t get past what was going on with me.
Looking up at the dark sky, I exhaled long and slow. Time to get back on track and move on. Moving on was something I could pretend to be good at. “So...you were about to tell me what you thought?”
He looked over his shoulder, watching me slowly place one foot in front of the other as if I were on a balance beam. “I was thinking about how long the Harbinger has been here, on these streets, hunting Wardens and demons, and none of us have caught one glimpse of it, as far as we know. Makes me think we could spend every night out here, searching, and not find it.”
I stopped, one foot in the air. “Why don’t you think we’ll find it?”
“Because I don’t think we’ll find the Harbinger until it wants to be found.”
* * *
Just before midnight, hot tingles erupted between my shoulder blades.
We’d moved on from the park to roam an area of Capitol Hill that Zayne called Eastern Market, which was a mecca of yummy-smelling restaurants that had my stomach grumbling. I made a mental note to start our next patrol here so that I could taste something from each place.
I stopped walking and looked behind me. “I feel a demon.”
Zayne halted, head tilted to the side and chin up. Turning toward the wide street, I propped my hands on my hips. There were still people out and an ever-present racket of sirens coming from all different directions, but it was nowhere near as busy as earlier in the night.
“Kind of jealous over how quickly you can sense them,” Zayne commented as he stepped toward the curb.
“Yeah, well, you can fly, so...” I followed him, squinting but seeing nothing beyond the streetlamps. “See anything?”
He shook his head. “It’s nearby. Probably a Fiend, but let’s check it out.”
Letting Zayne’s awesome eyeballs lead the way, I followed him across the street. I had no idea where we were going, and I couldn’t read the street signs, but the farther we walked, the darker the sidewalks became. Hoping they were in good condition, I stayed close to him as my tunnel-like vision became worse with each step.
“Where are we?” I whispered as we crossed onto another tree-lined street. It was freakishly quiet.
“We’re on Ninth Street,” he answered. “Southeast. We’re not too far from the naval yard.