Page 16 of Crimson Mate
“Same difference,” I cut him off, rolling my eyes. “The exact math doesn't matter. What does matter?” I take a step closer to him, letting every inch of fury be unmasked on my face as I look up at him. “You were blissfullyunawarefor centuries, in a likely heavy and dreamless sleep in stasis while I was left right exactlyhere.”
Tears threaten to fall from my eyes, but I do my best to hold them back. I've done so much crying over the male before me, and I honestly thought that was all behind me. But one look at him, one listen to his lyrical voice, one hint of his scent, and I'm right back where I started—a girl, hopelessly in love.
“You were asleep,” I continue, doing my best to not let my voice break. “And I was here. Living every second of every night with what you did to me. With what you chose without giving me a chance?—”
“I left a letter,” Zachariah cuts over me, his eyes imploring. “Talia, I thought I was protecting?—”
“Don't,” I stop him. “Don't you dare bring up that letter to me. You damn well know it wasn't enough. And it sure as hell wasn't fair.”
“Talia,” he says as I take the step away, reaching for me like he might take my hand again. “Please?—”
“Space,” I say as I reach for the handle on my door. “I need space. I need time to think.”
“About me?” he asks in a hopeful tone. “About us?”
“About this utter failure of a mission tonight,” I answer instead of telling him the truth.
Instead of saying he'sallI've thought about since I laid eyes on him. “And about how the hell I'm going to get back on Conrad's trail now.”
I push open my door and shut it behind me without looking back, knowing if I continue to look at him, I’ll stand there all night, talking to him, hearing him out, slipping into that girl I used to be if only to find some kind of solid ground between us again.
But I know how dangerous hope is.
Know what it feels like to make plans and dream of a future only to have those things crushed in the end.
I can’t be that person anymore, and more so, I don’t want to be.
Zachariah's lips pressing against mine, my spine kissing the wall of the alcove he’d walked us into.
His hands roaming over my body in a territorial way that set my blood on fire.
The way his body felt against mine, leaving me aching and breathless and needy?—
I throw a dagger in the assassin's training room, then another, and another. Every single one of the practice blades slam into the target within a centimeter of each other.
Frustration clings to my body as I stomp across the space to retrieve them, returning to my starting point and throwing them again.
And again
And again.
I throw them until the target is nearly destroyed and my body is peppered with sweat, but it doesn't matter how much energy I expend, I can't shake the craving racing through my blood.
The need pulsing beneath every inch of my skin whisperingZachariah, Zachariah, Zachariah.
I’ve been kissed plenty of times since he decided to choose duty over me, but none have ever felt like that. Like he knew me inside and out, every inch his to claim, every breath his to take.
I throw a dagger at the target again, already reaching for the other two on a small table next to me.
“I hope it's not my face you're picturing on that target,” Zachariah says, appearing right next to me, making me jump.
“Just your balls,” I say, not turning to look at him, internally cursing myself for not realizing he’d snuck up on me. I throw the remaining daggers, each blade sinking into the wood right where I aim.
“Are you using your powers?” Zachariah asks, nodding toward the expertly thrown blades as I turn to look up at him.
I shake my head, pride welling within me.
Zachariah tilts his head, folding his arms over his chest as he looks down at me. “Why not?” he asks. “With your telekinetic powers, you can always hit your mark.”