White Hot Kiss

CHAPTER SEVEN

Abbot sat behind the desk, his leg propped over his knee. “You didn’t eat very much at dinner. Are you still feeling unwell?”

I threw myself in the chair. I’d managed only a bite or two during the tense dinner. Petr eyeballed me the entire time. “I don’t want them here.”

Abbot rubbed his fingers across his bearded chin. His sandy hair was pulled back as usual. “Layla, I understand that you’re uncomfortable. Elijah has assured me that you will have no problems with Petr.”

“Really? That’s funny, because Petr cornered me earlier.”

His fingers stilled, the pale eyes sharpening. “Did he do anything?”

“It wasn’t like...the last time.” I shifted uncomfortably, feeling my face burn.

He let out a long, low breath. “Can you just stay away from him for the next week or so?”

I was floored. “I am staying away from him. He won’t stay away from me! If he comes near me again, I swear to God I’ll take his—”

Abbot slammed his hand down on the desk, causing me to jump in the chair. “You will do no such thing, Layla!”

My heart lurched. “I wasn’t being serious. I’m...I’m sorry.”

“That is nothing to joke about.” He shook his head, speaking as if I was an ill-behaved child. “I’m very disappointed that you’d even consider saying something like that. If any of our visitors overheard you—including Petr’s father—the damage would be irreversible.”

A messy, icky lump formed in my chest. I hated disappointing Abbot. I owed him so much—a home, safety, a life. I cast my eyes down, twisting the ring between my fingers. “I’m sorry—really I am.”

Abbot sighed, and I heard him lean back in his seat. I peeked up, not wanting to add to his long list of worries. He ran his fingers over his brow, eyes closed. “What did you want to talk to me about, Layla?”

Suddenly the whole thing with the zombie didn’t seem very important. Neither did Roth’s presence. I just wanted to go hide in my bedroom.

“Layla?” he questioned, pulling a fat cigar out of a wooden box on his desk. He never smoked them, but liked to fiddle with them anyway.

“It’s nothing,” I said finally. “Just something that happened today at school.”

His pale brows rose an inch. “You wanted to talk to me about school? I know Zayne has been occupied with Danika’s arrival and training, but I have a lot going on right now. Perhaps Jasmine would be interested in chatting with you?”

My face felt like I could fry eggs on it. “I don’t want to talk about boys or my grades.”

He rolled the cigar between his fingers. “How are your grades? I assume your teacher is allowing you to make up your test tomorrow?”

I dropped the ring, clutching the arms of my chair in frustration. “My grades are fine. And I have the make—”

“What are you two doing in here?”

I twisted around. Zayne stood in the doorway, his hair falling around his face like sheets of sand. “I’m trying to tell Abbot what happened today at school.”

His lazy look turned to surprise. He glanced at his father as a slow grin twisted his lips. “How’s that going?”

Abbot sighed heavily, placing the cigar back in the box. “Layla, I have to leave shortly to meet with the police commissioner and the mayor.”

“There was a zombie at my school today,” I blurted out.

“Huh?” Zayne stopped behind my chair, flicking the back of my ear. I swatted his hand away. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

I met Abbot’s suddenly alert gaze. “He was in the boiler room and—”

“How did you know he was there?” Abbot demanded, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward.

I couldn’t tell them about Roth. No way was I opening that door. “I...I smelled him.”

Zayne dropped in the seat beside me. “Did anyone see him?”

I cringed. “Trust me, if they did, it would have been on the evening news. He was that bad off.”

“Is he still there?” Abbot stood, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt.

“Uh...yes, but I don’t think he’s going to be a problem. He’s nothing but a pile of clothes and goo.”

“Wait a minute,” Zayne said, frowning as he watched me. “You smelled a zombie, and knowing how dangerous they can be, you decided to go down to a boiler room and check it out?”

I looked at him. Where was he going with this? “Well, yeah, I did.”

“And you engaged the zombie? Killing it?”

Well... “Yes.”

He shot his father a meaningful look. “Father.”

“What?” My eyes bounced between the two.

Abbot walked around the desk, letting out another long sigh. “What are the rules, Layla?”

Unease cramped my stomach muscles. “I don’t mess with the dangerous stuff, but—”

“Zayne told me you followed a Poser into the alley the other night,” Abbot interrupted, in total father mode. Disappointed-father mode. “And it turned out to be a Seeker.”

“I...” I closed my mouth, glancing at Zayne. He avoided my eyes, watching his father. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Following a Poser or any demon into an alley is a big deal, Layla.” Abbot folded his arms, pinning me with a displeased stare. “You know better. No one can see your tags besides us. There is no reason you should be following one into an isolated area. And instead of seeking out the zombie today, you should have called Morris and he would have woken us up.”

Jeez. I sank down in my seat. “But—”

“There are no buts, Layla. What would have happened if the zombie was seen by anyone? We are charged with keeping the truth secret. Mankind must have faith that Heaven and Hell exist without proof.”

“Maybe we should cut back on her time tagging,” Zayne suggested. “We don’t need her doing it. Honestly, it’s all very lazy of us to rely on her tagging instead of actively searching them out.”

I stared at him, seeing my freedom shrivel up in front of me instead of his godly looks. “No one found out about the zombie today!”

“That’s not the point,” snapped Abbot. “You know better, Layla. You risked serious consequences by not telling us, not to mention risking your own safety.”

His disappointment rang through loud and clear. I shifted uneasily in my seat, feeling about a foot tall.

“We should check out the school tonight,” said Zayne. “Have the commissioner contact the superintendent—say it’s something routine so there’s no suspicion.”

“Good call.” He gave his son a proud smile.

I bristled. “So I’m not allowed to tag anymore?”

“That’s something I need to think about,” replied Abbot.

That didn’t sound good to me. I hated the idea of not being able to tag. It was the one thing that redeemed the demonic blood in me, or at least made me feel better. Taking that away was like a smack in the face. It also got me out of the house, and with Petr here that was even more important. I apologized once again and left the study. I felt as if I was on the verge of crying and screaming—or punching someone.

Zayne followed me into the hallway. “Hey.”

I stopped near the stairs, a rush of anger hitting me hard in the gut. I waited until he stood beside me. “You just had to tell him about the Seeker in the alley. Thanks.”

He frowned. “He needed to know, Layla. You weren’t being safe and you could’ve been hurt.”

“Then why didn’t you say something to me instead of running to your daddy?”

His jaw immediately clenched. “I didn’t run to my daddy.”

I folded my arms. “That’s not how it looks.”

Zayne gave me a sigh I was familiar with. It said you’re being childish and getting on my last nerve.

I ignored it. “Why would you even suggest that I stop tagging? You know how important it is to me.”

“Your safety is more important. You know I’ve never really agreed with them allowing you to run around D.C. by yourself, pursuing demons. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ve been tagging since I was thirteen, Zayne. I’ve never had any problem—”

“Until a few nights ago,” he interrupted, cheeks flushing with anger. It was so rare that Zayne ever lost his cool with me, but when he did, it was epic. “And it’s more than that. You’re young and pretty. Who knows what kind of attention you’re attracting out there.”

Any other time I would have been thrilled to hear him say I was pretty, but right now, I wanted to take that word and shove it in his face. “I can take care of myself.”

He looked at me dead-on. “What I’ve shown you will only get you so far.”

Irritation and the need to prove I wasn’t some helpless dweeb provoked what I said next. “And I know how to finish someone off.”

Zayne got what I was saying. A look of utter disbelief flickered across his face. “That’s the way you’d protect yourself? By taking someone’s soul? Nice.”

Immediately, I realized my mistake. I came down a step. “I didn’t really mean it, Zayne. You know that.”

He didn’t look too sure. “Whatever. I have things I need to do.”

“Like Danika?” I said before I could stop myself.

His eyes fell shut, and when they reopened, they were a sheltered, icy blue. “Real mature. Good night, Layla.”

The hot rush of tears clouded my vision as I watched him leave. I was making a mess of everything without even trying. That took talent. I turned around and saw Petr standing just inside the sitting room. The smirk on his face told me that he’d heard our whole exchange—and enjoyed it.

I woke up, heart pounding and throat burning. The sheets twisted around my legs, chafing my skin. Rolling over, I stared at the neon-green light of the alarm clock.

2:52 a.m.

I needed something sweet.

Throwing off the sheets, I stood. My nightgown clung to my damp skin. There wasn’t a single light on in the hallway outside my bedroom, but I knew the way by heart. There’d been so many nights when the craving unexpectedly hit hard, leading to dark and silent trips to the kitchen.

I padded down the steps and through the shadowy rooms in a hurry. My legs were starting to feel wobbly, my heart rate spiking. I can’t live like this.

My arm trembled as I pulled open the door to the fridge. Yellow light washed over my bare legs and the floor. I bent down, impatiently searching for the carton of orange juice among the bottles of water and milk. Annoyed and ready to kick something, I found the OJ behind the eggs.

The carton slipped from my shaking fingers, crashing to the floor and spilling sticky juice all over my toes. Tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks. I was crying over spilled orange juice, for chrissake. It had to be one of my lamest moments of all time.

Sitting next to the sticky puddle, I ignored the cold air from the fridge. God knows how long I sat there before I smacked the door shut. At once, the kitchen was pitched into darkness. I kind of liked it like that. It was just me being ridiculously stupid, and the darkness. No one could witness my hysterics.

Then I heard the soft fluttering of wings, growing louder as they moved toward the kitchen. I stiffened, my very breath halting in my throat. The air stirred around me. I looked up, seeing yellow eyes and fangs surrounded by skin the color and texture of polished granite. The nose was flat, nostrils thin slits. Parting the cascade of dark hair were two horns that curved inward.

Danika was just as striking in her true form as she was in her human.

She dropped beside me, claws tapping on the tile floor as she walked over to the kitchen island and grabbed a roll of paper towels. “Need help?”

It was strange seeing a six-foot gargoyle offer you paper towels.

Danika stared down at me, her dark gray lips curving into a tentative smile.

I hastily wiped my palms under my eyes and then took the wad of towels. “Thanks.”

Danika tucked her wings in as she crouched, cleaning up most of the mess with one swipe. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine.” I picked up the carton. It was empty. Great.

She balled the paper towels, her fingers long and elegant, but those claws could rip through skin, muscle, even metal. “It doesn’t seem like you’re fine,” she said carefully. “Zayne told me that sometimes you...get sick.”

My head jerked up. A rush of hot betrayal swept through me. I couldn’t even form words.

Danika’s face grew pinched. “He’s just concerned about you, Layla. He cares about you deeply.”

I grabbed the soaked towels and empty carton, standing on shaky legs. “Oh.” I laughed harshly. “He does? That’s why he told you about my sickness?”

She slowly straightened. “He only said something so that I could help in case you needed anything.” She backed up, seeing the look on my face. “Layla, I don’t judge you. In fact, I think you’re incredibly strong.”

More tears, hotter than those that had already fallen, burned at the back of my throat. Why I was always eating something sweet was no secret, but only Zayne knew how badly I struggled—up until now. I couldn’t believe he’d told Danika. And asked her to keep an eye on me? Mortifying seemed like a weak word to describe how I felt.

“Layla, do you need something else? I can go to the store and get some more juice.”

I dumped the stuff in the garbage can, shoulders stiff. “I’m not going to jump on you and suck out your soul, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Danika gasped. “That’s not what I meant—not at all. It’s just that you look like you need something and I want to help.”

I whirled around. She still stood by the fridge, her wings unfurled, reaching at least four feet on either side of her. “I’m fine. You don’t have to keep an eye on me.” I turned away, but stopped at the door, drawing in a shallow breath. “Tell Zayne I said thanks.”

Before Danika could respond, I left the kitchen and went back to my room. I crawled into bed, throwing the covers over my head. Every so often, a spasm ran through my muscles and my leg would jerk. Over and over again, the words ran through my head.

I can’t live like this.