"And you need to get out of this library more often," she reasoned. I shrugged a broad shoulder. In a flash, she had jumped to her feet, hand still woven with mine. I glanced at her curiously, but allowed her to pull me up.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my feet moving on their own accord. But damn, if I wouldn't follow her anywhere and everywhere, even off a bridge.
"You need a break," she insisted. We reached the large double doors of the library, and she shoved them open without preamble. "And I, apparently, need to smile and laugh more. Did I get that right?"
She didn't sound mad at my assessment of her. Still, my cheeks burned, and I muttered something beneath my breath.
"HH and T are searching the various safe houses for survivors," she said, still pulling me along. "They should get back to me in about a day. If I'm even still here." Her lip curled. "Heaven only knows when the Mermaid King Asshole Extraordinaire will call me for the next fucking game."
"I like that nickname," I mused. "It's fitting."
Again, she gifted me with that laugh/snort mixture I found so attractive.
"In the meantime..." She trailed off, stopping in front of her desired location. Releasing my hand, she pushed the door open, and I followed after her, gaping at my surroundings. "We're going to have some fun."
EIGHT
Z
Lupe eyed me as if I was a poisonous scorpion preparing to strike. I wanted to laugh at the disbelief in his expression, but I managed to hold it in.
"This is your idea of fun?" he asked in disdain.
I had found this gem when I was exploring the Capital - after The Damning had ended and I couldn't stand to be in the same room with any of my mates. According to one of the servants roaming these halls, the room had once served as a training facility for cadets and other governmental agents. When the training center got relocated, nobody had bothered to clean up the room.
A large, wooden obstacle course sat in the very center over a collection of blue mats. Chipped white paint added color to the dreary structure and battered wood. To start the course, there was a gray rock climbing wall stopping seven feet above the ground. That led to monkey bars and a simple wooden block the participants had to climb or jump over. From there, you had to army crawl beneath barbed wire to a rope swing. The rope swing led to tires you had to crawl through until finally, you reached the finish line.
Lupe's wide eyes surveyed the room.
"Super fun," I quipped, walking to the beginning of the course. Lupe, with great reluctance, followed me.
He mimicked my stretching, large muscles bulging beneath his shirt. He was not dressed for this type of excursion - wearing a long sleeved thermal sweater and jeans - but he didn't complain.
I grabbed my elbow over my head and nearly laughed when he did as well.
"Stop it," he said, eyes glinting with amusement.
"Stop what?" I asked innocently.
"I know you want to laugh." He poked a finger into my side, and I swatted his big hand away.
"Do not," I protested half-heartedly. "That would be horrible. I would never laugh at you."
When he merely raised a brow, eyes narrowing, I couldn't keep my laughter in check. Clutching my stomach, I keeled over.
"Okay, okay, but you have to admit that it's funny," I snorted, wiping a stray tear away. "You're like this big ass man with more muscles in your pinkie finger than I have in my body, and you hate exercising. It's funny."
His lip quirked upwards.
"I love that sound," he said seriously, and my laughter dissipated.
"What? Me teasing you?" I asked, though I already knew his answer.
Why did it feel so weird to laugh with him? To smile? Why did it feel like I was disrespecting Diego's memory? I knew it was irrational, but the thought remained, hounding me. A barrage of assaults against my mind and heart.
It felt wrong to be happy when he was dead. When my parents were dead. When S, my first love, was dead.
And I hated it.
I didn't know if I hated my self-loathing, my inability to hold onto happiness, or the fact that I was happy in the first place. My stomach was a tumultuous mixture of grief and confusion. I knew that it would be nearly impossible to get my emotions pacified.
"I get it," Lupe said suddenly. His face brightened like a lightbulb glowing beneath the surface. I resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably at his knowing, all-seeing stare. "You don't think you deserve to be happy."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I snarked feeling abnormally vulnerable. In a matter of seconds, Lupe had stripped me bare, revealing all the broken and twisted parts of me to his inquisitive eyes. Was this what having mates meant? Would I always feel like that?
I didn't know if I loved it or hated it.
Loved him or hated him.
"I think you do." One of his big hands captured mine. "You're still grieving Diego and even Mali. You miss S and your parents. Hell, you even miss the simplicity of your relationship with Devlin. I get it. I do. This all happened so suddenly, and you don't know up from down. Z, I see you. I understand."
I wrenched my hands free from his, trembling. "I don't want you to fucking see me. I don't want anyone to see me. Don't you get that? Don't you understand? I never asked to be your mate, and I already suck at it."
"Z..." he whispered helplessly. I knew he was going to try to reassure me, tell me that I was a perfect mate, that I was deserving of his love, regardless that it would
