In two steps, Lazarus was in front of him. He grabbed the front of the angel’s shirt and shoved. Silas staggered back a step. Lazarus knew he’d only managed it because Silas had allowed it.
“Tell me,” he roared. “For once, would you just fucking tell me what to do?”
The angel’s eyes gentled then he repeated, “It is not for me to say.”
Lazarus shoved away from him and walked to the edge of the building, trying to regain his composure.
“You need to forgive yourself, Lazarus,” Silas said close behind him. “Scarlet has.”
When Lazarus spun back around, the angel was gone.
Brent’s thoughts streamed into her mind, and Eve laughed.
Lazarus shot Brent a dirty look.
Brent smirked, his sensual mouth tilting up on one side. “What? I’m keeping it clean.”
Laz turned to her, brow raised.
“He’s singing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle theme song,” she said.
“Jesus,” Lazarus muttered.
Lazarus was fresh from the shower, his dark hair still damp and a little rumpled from him thrusting his fingers through it. The jeans he wore molded to his powerful thighs, and his faded T-shirt clung to his wide chest and thick biceps. He looked amazing.
A zing fired through her belly when he trained those pale eyes back on her.
Nope. She couldn’t look away.
His tongue darted out, swiping across his full lower lip, and she swayed, fighting the urge to lift up on her tiptoes and taste that plump, firm flesh again for herself.
His Adam’s apple bobbed and he cleared his throat. “Let’s get started.”
Eve stood in the middle of the living room in their temporary home. Lazarus announced that morning that they needed to get back to her training. Since this was her first training session with Brent, she wasn’t sure what to expect. But Lazarus had promised to teach her to block her telepathy, and because of her lack of any kind of breakthrough at the compound, she was afraid to believe that it was possible, that she might be able to live a normal—well, normal-ish—life after all.
Lazarus moved closer and her pulse sped up instantly. How on earth was she supposed to concentrate with him standing so close?
“Just relax, Eve,” he murmured.
Easy for him to say. He didn’t go into cardiac arrest whenever she came close.
He moved around and stood at her back. Heat poured off him in waves, radiating from his chest and searing her back through the thin fabric of her dress. Her skin tingled in a pleasant way, and made her want to lean back, take more of his warmth. His hands came down on her shoulders and he leaned in closer. Her knees wobbled.
Fingers tightening, he massaged lightly. “Where do you feel it, Eve?”
She squirmed. Where did she feel it? Oh no, she wasn’t going there. “I, ah…”
Brent chucked like he was the one that could read minds, and her face heated.
“Just keep singing, asshole.” Lazarus’s lips brushed her hair when he spoke next. “When you’re listening to him where do you feel it?”
Brent’s singing continued.
Eve glanced over at him. “I can’t believe you know every word of that song.”
He shrugged. “I liked cartoons.”
Laz gave her another squeeze. “Focus.”
“Right. In my head, I guess.”
“No, Eve. Where do you feel it?”
Eve tried to zone Brent out and focus on the source of her ability, which she’d never done before, and immediately zeroed in on the low buzz at the back of her skull. She reached back and showed him. “Here.”
“Different abilities manifest differently. If your ability had been a physical one, for example, you would have felt it here.” He reached around and placed his hand against her chest, his palm skimming the tops of her breasts. Her heart started hammering faster. He didn’t comment, but there was no way he couldn’t feel her reaction to his touch. His hand moved to the base of her skull, massaging gently. “This is the point where all psychic powers are felt, and the point you need to visualize when you want to block it. Understand?”
“I think so.”
“Up until your first lesson, you would have tried to block your ears to escape others’ thoughts, yes?”
She nodded. “It never worked.”
“That’s because your hearing has nothing to do with the way your ability works. So from now on, I want you to picture this point right here.”
More massaging. Firm, but gentle. Goose bumps were breaking out all over her body from his touch. “Okay.”
“Now, as much as I’m sure you love hearing Brent sing, imagine this is a life-and-death situation. Your options are block Brent, or I kill him for you to shut out the terrible sound of his voice.”
Eve laughed and Brent’s eyes narrowed. Lazarus could be funny when he wanted to be. She liked it.
“I want you to close your eyes and visualize a small black hole, no bigger than the tip of your pinkie. That’s where your power flows, allowing all that noise, all those thoughts and images to reach your mind. Now I want you to imagine blocking it.”
She did as he said, picturing the tiny black hole. “Okay, I see it. What do I block it with?”
“Gum,” Brent said. “When I was training, I used to pretend to stuff a big piece of chewed-up gum over mine. Grape Hubba Bubba worked best.”
“Good choice,” she said, smiling. “Grape’s my favorite, too. I can do that.”
She was sure she heard Lazarus grind his teeth behind her. “Whatever works,” he said, still close behind her. “Now can you hear Brent singing?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Now you have ten seconds to block him out, or I’ll slit his throat.”
Eve tried to spin to face him. “What?”
“Ten…nine…eight…”
“No. You wouldn’t, would you?”
“Six…five…”
“I’d rather you didn’t test him on that, Eve,” Brent said.
His singing, still loud and clear, echoed through her mind.
Eve tried to visualize the pinkie-sized hole then imagined stuffing it with gum. All the while Lazarus counted down.
It wasn’t working.
“Three…two…” Lazarus’s deep voice filled the room.
“Anytime now would be good, Eve,” Brent called.
Eve shut everything else out and concentrated on blocking Brent—Silence.
The kind of silence she’d only experienced since Lazarus stormed into her life.
“One…”
She uncurled her fingers so her nails quit biting into her palms, and released the breath she’d been holding. “Are you doing that?” she asked Lazarus, because how could it be her?
“It’s all you, Eve.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“I did it? Oh my God. I did it.” She spun around and threw her arms around Lazarus’s neck.
Lazarus rested his hands on Eve’s waist. She pulled back, arms wrapped around him, and smiled. No, she fucking beamed like he’d just brought her a new puppy. He blew out a breath, the wind knocked clean from his lungs with that one look.
“You did really good,” he managed. What else could he say? Hell, he could hardly think, let alone form a coherent sentence with her staring at him like that.
“I did, right?” she said.
Shit, she needed to stop smiling at him like that. She tilted her head to the side. “You really had me going there for a minute.”
“Did I?” He wanted to smile back, but fought the impulse into submission.
“Come on, I know you’d never actually kill Brent. Though your rather drastic plan worked.”
He reluctantly released her and pushed his hands into his pockets. As soon as she stepped back, he wanted her hands right back where they’d been. “Slitting Brent’s throat wouldn’t kill him, not the way I’d do it. Besides, he’s a fast healer.”
“Oh my God, you’re terrible.” She slapped his arm p
layfully.
He liked seeing her like this, relaxed, kinda goofy—happy.
She turned to Brent. “Poor Brent. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Brent pushed away from the wall, that predatory smirk back on his handsome face. “Would you really, sweetheart?”
“You can leave now. You’ve served your purpose,” Lazarus said to him.
Brent sent him a look that was far too knowing and winked at Eve before he left the apartment.
Eve stared at him. “Well, that was rude.”
Her defense of the other male did not sit well with him, not at all. In fact, it made him insanely and irrationally pissed. “Was it?”
“Yes.”
“And you care why exactly?”
Her eyes widened at his harsh tone. “What’s wrong with you?”
He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Forget it.”
She went quiet and the silence stretched out.
When he made himself look at her again, her arms were crossed over her chest and she was studying him like she wanted to crawl inside his head, discover all his secrets. It freaked him the hell out that she might be able to see the truth, see the kind of male he truly was.
One thing he couldn’t hide anymore was what Silas had told him the night before. She had a right to know what she was. Thinking about how this new bit of information would affect her, terrify her, made him sick to his stomach. He’d do anything to protect her from that.
But he couldn’t. It was too important to keep from her. Too damn dangerous to keep from her.
“Thanks for this, for helping me,” she said carefully.
“You’ll need to practice. The more you do, the longer you’ll be able to hold the block. After a while it won’t be any effort.”
The worry disappeared and her smile returned, but this time with the wattage cranked way up. “Can we try again tomorrow?”
“Sure.” His voice was back to gravel.
The look on her face, all that gratitude and hope, was making it hard to breathe. He didn’t deserve it.
She reached out, put her hand on his chest, and the brand burned into his skin there heated, causing the flesh beneath to tingle.
“Lazarus…” Her voice was soft, sweet, a lover’s caress. No one had ever said his name like that before, and dammit, he liked it. Wanted to hear her say it again.
He stepped back. “I have to head out.”
The smile faded and she crossed her arms again. “Oh…okay.”
She dipped her chin and hid her eyes from him. He hated that, hated that he kept on hurting her, but what he hated most of all was that he wasn’t even close to being finished.
And then he felt it.
It was unconscious on her part, he was sure, but Eve was reaching out to him, calling to him, and his body responded to the volatile energy she was throwing his way in pulsing waves.
His dick, already hard, stiffened further. Jesus, he wanted her, needed to be inside her again. But he didn’t reach for her, even when it was all he wanted, all he could think about.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” she said in a quiet voice.
He shrugged on his jacket. “Yeah.”
His boots felt heavy as he walked to the door. His body, his demon, was at odds with his mind, screaming at him to stay and take her, make her his once and for all.
No. His only option was to find Tobias and put him out of commission. Then he could let Eve go.
He’d made his decision.
Chapter 17
Eve took the stairs down to the club. She needed a drink. Well, that was her excuse, but in reality she was desperate for company. Even if that company was of the leather-clad and extremely kinky variety.
Besides her training sessions with Lazarus, or as she’d come to think of them, her daily dose of sexual frustration and torture, she barely saw him. He left right after running through her blocking techniques, and didn’t come back until after she was asleep.
She didn’t know what was going on in his head. The male was completely unreadable. He’d told her she was his mate, told her how much he wanted her, but then proceeded to avoid her like the plague. She didn’t get it, didn’t get him.
Which left her feeling lonely, confused, and kind of pissed.
Brent had been great. He spent a lot of time with her, helping her with her training. It wasn’t easy, but he was a good teacher. Now she could block out the noise on her own, not all day, but for extended periods of time.
Brent had been hanging out with her a little, taking pity on her. They’d watched a few movies and sometimes ate together before he headed down to the club, but he wasn’t Lazarus, and she felt his absence like a physical ache.
She shook her head. Insane.
The club was quiet when she hit the door, the only sound the low murmur of Brent’s voice. He was behind the bar, his staff gathered around him.
The club was empty since it wasn’t quite opening time. She’d only come down during the day since they got there, while it was closed, and was surprised at the rush of excitement and flutter of nerves at the prospect of hanging around, maybe staying for a while once it opened.
Being among people who didn’t have any hangs-ups, who made no apologies for who they were, was exhilarating. They took what they wanted, when they wanted it. Eve envied that.
“We’re a dancer down,” Brent said.
“I’ll do it,” Chaya, the curvy waitress she’d met when she arrived, spoke up.
Brent visibly stiffened. “No. You won’t.”
Chaya narrowed her eyes. “I can dance, Brent.”
“I want my customers coming back, and that means having someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. You’re working the bar.” Chaya flinched and her cheeks heated.
Eve winced. She’d seen another side to Brent over the last week, not so much softer, but more relaxed, a side he obviously didn’t share with his staff. Brent didn’t seem to notice or care that he’d hurt Chaya’s feelings and had already asked another waitress to dance. She glanced between him and Chaya, at the way they were purposely not looking at each other.
Eve leaned against the bar and tapped him on the arm. “Hey, um…I can waitress if you’re short. I’ve done it before.”
Brent turned at the sound of her voice and so did everyone else. That slow smile lifted his sensual lips. “You think Lazarus would be happy about that?”
“I doubt it, but it’s not really his decision. I don’t answer to him.”
Brent raised a brow. “I don’t think he sees it that way, sweetheart.” He turned back to his gathered staff and waved them away. “You know what to do.” He turned back to her.
“Come on. Give me something to do,” she pleaded.
He crossed his arms over his wide chest. “It’s not a good idea.”
“He’s not here. He’s never here. And if you don’t let me help, and I’m stuck in that room another night all by myself, I’ll go mad.”
“You think you have enough control to sustain your block for a few hours?”
She really hoped so. “Yes. And if I start to struggle, I’ll go back upstairs.”
He rested a hip against the bar. He looked powerful in his dark suit, his height and good looks no doubt intimidating to most. “If I let you do this, you have to stick to delivering drinks and clearing tables. If anyone worries you, bothers you, you come to me or one of the guys on the floor.”
“Guys?”
“George”—he pointed to a huge man standing by the door—“or Mark.” Mark stood against the wall on the other side of the room, his gaze taking in his surroundings, not missing a thing. They were both frightening as hell. “They look out for the staff. You need help, you grab me or one of the guys, yeah?”
Excitement started to bubble up inside her. “Is that a yes?”
He still didn’t look convinced, but finally said, “I guess it is.”
“Thank you! You won’t regret it.”
A wicked g
lint lit his dark gaze. “We have a certain image here, and it needs to be maintained at all times. So, if you’re doing this, you need to do it right. You need to dress the part. Go get changed.”
Did he think that would dissuade her? Eve looked around. Okay, it might. She didn’t have anything in her bag that would fit in down here. Who the hell would? “Ah…I’d love to, but rubber gives me a rash.”
Brent snorted. “It’s not negotiable.”
She grinned. “Just when I thought my dreams of wearing a studded collar would never be fulfilled…”
He shook his head at her sarcasm. “If you’re determined to do this, go talk to Chaya. You’re a similar build. She’ll have something you can wear.” He was enjoying her discomfort way too much.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
“I’m looking forward to seeing how you’ll look in Chaya’s clothes.” He chuckled, rough and low. “And what Lazarus will do when he sees you.”
Her heart sped up. “I doubt he’ll care either way.”
His smile turned wicked. “We open soon. Get changed and get your ass back out here.”
“Yes, boss.”
He walked off, headed to his office, and Eve spotted Chaya on her way back to the bar. “Chaya?”
The other woman stopped in front of her, a weary expression on her face. “Yeah?”
“Um, Brent said you might have something for me to wear. I’m waitressing.”
Her eyes slid to the door Brent had just disappeared behind then back to Eve. “Right, come with me.”
Chaya wore a short pleated black leather skirt and spike-heeled boots. Her top was red and slashed in strategic places, showing a lot of skin and cleavage, and her long dark hair hung loose, swaying around her waist. Chaya looked gorgeous. No way could Eve pull off an outfit like that.
They entered a room with lockers lining the walls. There were still a few people milling about, talking and getting ready. “Out,” Chaya barked. Surprisingly, everyone scattered without argument.
Chaya flung open her locker and started pulling clothes and shoes out. Everything was short and way too revealing, but after some not-so-gentle coaxing, Eve ended up in a short A-line red tartan skirt, black fishnets, and a black sheer tank that showed off the red bra she wore underneath. Eve had never been able to wear heels for any length of time, so Chaya gave her a pair of knee-high lace-up boots with a chunky sole that Eve loved and never wanted to give back.
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