dark windows. Most Wardens would be on the streets right now, but they’d be returning home soon. “Do you not miss being here at all?”
Zayne shook his head as he swung a heavy thigh over the bike and sat in a way that said he’d done this hundreds of times. Holding on to one of the handles, he steadied the bike as he reached over and took one of the helmets from me. “These have microphones in them, so if you need to talk to me, I can hear you.”
“Cool.” I stared at the helmet I held and then peeked up at Zayne, thinking of those Wardens out patrolling—of Morgan and Greene and all the others I didn’t know. “I’m really sorry about Morgan. I can’t remember if I said that yet, but just in case I haven’t, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He looked back at the mansion. “What I said before hasn’t changed. Another name on the list to grieve. Just wasn’t thinking another would replace the last one so quickly.”
“Me, either,” I admitted, stomach twisting as my thoughts shifted to the park and the dinner and us in that alley while—
“I think I know what you’re thinking,” He tipped his gaze to the sky, exposing his throat. It was cloudy, so I couldn’t see any stars. “If you are, it’s what I’m thinking.”
My grip on the helmet tightened. I didn’t want to say what I was thinking.
Head still thrown back, he closed his eyes as he palmed the helmet between his large hands, and I thought he didn’t want to give those words life, either. He opened his eyes. “Get the helmet on and hop on, so we can get out of here.”
I slipped on the helmet and then, after a couple of seconds of trying to figure out how to get on the back of the bike without looking like an idiot, I scrambled onto the seat behind Zayne. When I looked up, Zayne had his helmet on.
He tapped something on the side of his helmet, waited a few seconds, and then reached over to my helmet and pressed something on the side. His voice was suddenly inside the helmet. “You’re going to need to hold on to me.”
Biting my lip, I placed my hands on his sides and tried to ignore how hard that area was. I had no idea why it had been so easy to cling to him like a sexed-up octopus in the alley earlier, but now it felt as awkward as trying to navigate a maze in the dark.
There was a pause. “You’re going to have to hold on harder than that.” Amusement lanced his tone, and I rolled my eyes. “And scoot up, or the moment this Ducati moves, you’re going to fly right off the back of it.”
“Sounds like if that happens, it’s your fault,” I retorted, but flattened my hands against his sides. “And if I get any closer, I’m going to be riding your back like a book bag.”
“That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.” His voice crackled through the microphone.
“You’re welcome.”
His chuckle came through the speaker, and the next thing I knew, his hands were on mine. He tugged until my thighs were snug against his hips and my arms circled his waist. “You want to go fast?” he asked, and I thought his voice sounded deeper, rougher. The warmth in the center of my chest was burning brighter.
I looked around the driveway, unable to see much through the tinted face shield. “Sure.”
“Good.” His hand coasted over mine, where they were joined across his abdomen. “Hold on.”
The engine rumbled to life underneath us, a purr that traveled up my legs. I started to pull back, and then the bike was off, tearing down the driveway. I swallowed a shout of surprise.
Heart rate kicking up, I held on to Zayne as if my life depended on it. I kind of thought it did as the wind whipped around us, all sound drowned out by the roar of the engine. I hoped Zayne could see where he was going, because all I saw was a blur of darkness and speed.
Fear trickled through me, heightened when he hit a bend in the road, and I swore we tilted sideways as he sped through it, but as the bike straightened out and my heart slowed down, it reminded me of that night Zayne had helped me fly.
This was a lot like that.
The whipping wind. The feeling of weightlessness. The emptiness the speed