Cursed

Plus, Siren. We don’t really need foreplay. I guess I could have saved you a lot of time if I’d told you that before.”

He laughs. “That’s okay. I like to be thorough. Take pride in my work.” He closes the gate to the cage. Locks it. Starts to move away.

I take his hand, make him turn back toward me. “Please? I want to know.”

He takes another pull from his glass, stares down into it. Finally he relents.

“They knew what I was. I was told they represented a special division of the U.S. military. Only it turned out they were more of a subcontracted splinter group. They said they were building a special team to carry out top secret military operations and they wanted me on board.”

“Flattering.”

“It was to a seventeen-year-old. The opportunity to join an army of supernatural creatures who would fight against tyranny and protect the American way was too compelling to pass up.” He looks up. “I completely let go of the idea of college. Why sit in a classroom when I could be part of a real-life Justice League? I volunteered. For a kid with an IQ of one sixty, I was incredibly stupid and naive.”

I reach out and touch his cheek. “Or incredibly brave and courageous.”

“I’ve never spoken of it before.”

“Why me? Why now?”

“Because you’re unrelenting and work on me like kryptonite?”

I frown, playing with one of the buttons on his shirt so that I don’t have to look him in the eye.

“I know you could find out anything you want about me at any time,” he says at last, lifting my chin. “But you let me tell the story myself. Is there anything else you want to know?”

A dozen questions flit through my mind before I settle on one.

“What is it that finally made you break away, leave that life?”

He hesitates. Seconds pass. Just when I reach the conclusion he’s not going to tell me, he takes a deep breath and begins.

“I was sent on a mission. It was supposed to be quick, simple. Everything had been carefully orchestrated. The research, as always, was thorough. The target was a threat to national security. He’d reportedly been responsible for the loss of many lives, could be responsible for the deaths of a great deal more. He was a monster who needed to be eliminated. At least that’s what I was told, what I believed.”

“You were sent to kill him.”

Zack nods. “I had a custom-made long-range rifle and a clear view. The target was supposed to be alone. No one else was visible when I lined up the shot and took aim. I’m good at what I do. What I did. The shot was clean.” He swallows. “But the target wasn’t alone. She must have entered the room right after I pulled the trigger. I watched, through my scope. It was surreal, a macabre silent horror film unfolding before me. One of my own making. One that afterward I couldn’t get out of my head. I still can’t. She threw herself on top of the target. Crying. Screaming. Soaked in his blood. She was four. He was her father. And . . . as it turned out . . . I was the monster.”

I place my hand on Zack’s shoulder and give it a squeeze. “You are not a monster. You killed one man to save hundreds.”

He smiles ruefully. “It was a lie, Emma.” He turns to look at me, his eyes shadowed with regret. “The dossier was a complete fabrication. It was about money and power. It wasn’t about saving lives. And it wasn’t just about killing one man. It wasn’t just one man. There were a lot of men over the years. Every one of them someone’s son, or husband, or father. I started to dig. The more I did, the more lies I uncovered. I wasn’t doing something noble, something to be proud of. I was nothing more than a very highly trained, highly paid assassin. No matter what I do, how many I manage to save, I’ll never be able to give back the lives I took.”

“That’s why working these cases has become so important to you. You can’t return that little girl’s father to her, not ever. But you can find and return others.”

“And I do, just like you. In so many ways, we’re coming from the same place, you and I. We’re seeking the same kind of salvation. That’s why we make such a great team.”

Zack is right. We do make a great team. We are on the same path, in search of the same thing. “The people you worked for, they just let you walk away?”

“Hardly. Suffice it to say I fixed things so that I pose more of a threat to them dead than alive. We’re at a stalemate. I’ve accepted I can’t take them down. For now. They’ve accepted my decision. For now.”

Zack holds out his hand.

I take it.

“No more talk about sad things. Not tonight.”

I let him lead me down a short hall to a door on the left. He pushes it open, giving me a clear view of the master suite.

On the far side of the room is a set of double French doors. They open onto a balcony, offering a breathtaking view of the moonlit beach and ocean beyond. Cream doupioni curtains hang over the doors, the rich silk fabric flutters in the evening breeze. There’s a fire in the fireplace to the left of the bed. It fills the room with warmth, a contrast to the cool night air drifting in from outside. On the mantel is an array of candles, which he’s also taken the time to light. There are more on the dark walnut nightstands, which flank the enormous king-sized sleigh bed. The lamps on the either side of the bed remain off. They aren’t needed. A natural glow fills the room. The flames from the fire and candles flicker and dance, casting shadows on the wall.

I hesitate. The first time we were together was all flying clothes, insistent hands, and hot openmouthed kisses. I guess after my admission and in light of his nature, I was expecting the same. For tonight, at least, he’s got that aggression thoroughly locked away.

“You’re in control here.”

“Honestly, I think I’d be more comfortable if we were both out of control.” I take a sip of my wine. There is the aroma of sea salt and burned wood in the air, as well as a mix of vanilla and orange, cinnamon and ginger. “You always keep scented candles around?” I ask over the rim of my glass.

“I figure you’ve got to give a girl something if you’re going to hold back on the foreplay.”

I walk over to the bed and run my hand over the duvet cover. Like those downstairs, the fabrics are rich and lush. Earth tones dominate—taupe walls, cream drapes, dark brown bedding with gold accents. I move to the fireplace. There’s a large mirror above it. I can see Zack’s reflection as he crosses the room to join me.

He places his hands gently on my shoulders. “Listen, it’s okay if you’ve changed your mind. You were right this morning when you said there are a lot of reasons not to do this.”

My gaze lifts to meet his in the mirror. “And yet here we are.”

He reaches out with one hand, brushing his fingertips down the side of my neck before tracing a painstakingly slow path along the edge of my gown’s neckline—starting in front of my shoulder and ending at the zipper. “You’re sure you want this?”

I’ve had sex with plenty of men during my lifetime. A good many of those men have been quite imaginative. Some have even been memorable. With a few, it still hurts to think about. I’ve been here many times before. So what is it about this man that makes me ache so?

Do I want him? I shiver. I do. “In the worst possible way.”

Zack encircles my waist with his left arm, then dips his head, nose at the nape of my neck. He inhales deeply, breathing me in just like before, only then it was with more subtlety. This time it feels decidedly primitive, possessive.

My own breath catches.

I feel a slight tug as he pulls down my zipper. The fabric parts, exposing my back. I close my eyes and wait. Then I feel Zack’s fingers skimming down over my skin, tracing the edges of my ink. The pair of wings covers most of my back. It’s not a tattoo I chose. Like so much else, Demeter chose it for me. I was marked the day I was stripped of my real wings, the day I was sent here. Because I don’t see them every day, you might think I’d forget. I never forget.

“What you told me in Charleston about this tat, it was a lie, wasn’t it?” Zack murmurs, almost to himself.

I turn to face him, letting the gown fall and stepping out of it. “We’re not speaking of sad things tonight.”