Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

“Gotta love a patient man,” she said. “Rarest of them all. Go. Date.”

She moved out of the way so I could walk out of the bathroom. It’s amazing how little time it takes to get back into the swing of wearing heels again.

I strolled to the door and looked out the peephole. Zayvion’s back was to me. He had traded his ratty blue ski coat for a black leather jacket that did worlds of good for showing the width of his shoulders. Well, well.

I opened the door.

Zayvion turned.

We stood there, caught in a breathless moment.

He looked amazing. Leather jacket, open to reveal a black sweater thin enough it showed the definition of his chest he always hid under sweatshirts. Black slacks. Black shoes. Handsome as hell, with those deep brown eyes, wide lips, and dark, tight-curled hair. He looked a little surprised. Maybe a lot surprised.

That made two of us.

“Allie,” he exhaled.

“Zayvion.” I licked my bottom lip, tasted the unfamiliar gloss-vanilla-and gave him a slow smile. “Don’t you clean up nice? Come on in. I’m almost ready.” I turned away from the hunger in his eyes and walked into the apartment. I had two reasons for turning my back on him. One, I had to stop looking at him before I just grabbed him and dragged him off to bed; I was trying to prove I wasn’t that kind of a girl tonight.

Two, I wanted to see how the going-away view of my getup worked for him.

“Nola, you remember Zayvion Jones?” I looked over my shoulder at Zayvion.

Even though I’d gotten halfway across the room, Mr. Master of Zen had frozen, only one step into the apartment. He wasn’t looking at my apartment. I’d lay money he didn’t even notice Nola standing in the living room, watching us this whole time. His gaze slipped up the back of my boots, thighs, ass, and finally slid along the edge of my breast to my face.

Sweet loves. If he didn’t stop looking at me like that, I wasn’t going to make it to the door, much less the first course.

“Hello, Zayvion,” Nola said.

He looked away, suddenly in motion again as if her voice had freed him. Freed us. I inhaled and realized I had stopped breathing. I had also, unknowingly, taken a step toward him.

Like metal to a magnet. That man was a force I could not resist.

“Good evening, Nola,” he said as he shut the door. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit.” But the way he said it, the subtle tightening of his shoulders, the carefully neutral tone, sent warning bells off in my head. He was lying. He knew Nola was going to be here.

Did he know something about Cody? Something that would help Nola gain custody of him? Or was he spying on Nola? I didn’t like that idea. Zayvion worked for people who gave me nightmares.

“Well, it wasn’t a planned trip,” she said. “I have some business in town that needs my attention.”

“It is nice to see you again,” he said.

Nola raised one eyebrow, obviously not buying it. I wasn’t getting a good read on either of them. Partly because all I could think about was Zayvion’s hands touching me, his body pressing against every inch of me. Partly because I had no idea how much they knew each other since I’d lost those memories. I suddenly felt the desire to keep Nola safe from the kind of people Zayvion associated with.

People like you

, a whisper said in the back of my head.

Oh, just thanks so much for adding a little extra creepy to my night, Dad

, I thought.

Now go away.

I couldn’t be sure that he listened, but I didn’t hear him, didn’t feel him anymore.

One thing was for sure: I trusted Zayvion-hells, trusted just about anyone in this city-more than I trusted my father.

Nola told me Zayvion had sat with me out at her farm for two weeks when I was in the coma. They would have had some time to talk then, to get to know each other. She also just said she liked him.

Good enough.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Nola said, and I was pretty sure she meant it.“Allie, before you go, I have something for you.” She knelt beside her suitcase propped next to the couch and unzipped one of the outer pockets. “I was going to give it to you later, but I think it might come in handy tonight.”

She stood and held something black and knitted in her hands.

I took the soft and supple hand-knitted lace, held it up, and discovered it wasn’t just lace, it was gloves. Long enough they would rise up to my elbows where they tied off with a delicate black ribbon woven through eyelets.

“Oh, Nola. You made these, didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “I had some time on my hands.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” I pulled them on. They fit perfectly. A lot of skin showed through the lace, but they did a nice job of making both of my arms look like they belonged on the same body. Plus, I thought they might be kind of sexy. I glanced over at Zayvion.

He had put both his hands in his pockets, same way I did when I was trying to keep my hands off the artwork in a museum. His gaze flowed down my body, then traced back up until his warm brown eyes met mine.

“Stunning.” Deep and soft, husky with need. A wash of warmth flushed under my skin. I was blushing. Fabo. So much for femme fatale.

Sweet loves, this was going to be a long night. Maybe Nola should get that hotel room.

“Thanks.”

We stood there, looking but not touching, wanting each other but doing nothing about it, until he finally tipped his head down and stared at his shoes. “So, your coat?”

“Right.” I walked past him, and inhaled the warm pine and sweet spice scent of him-a new cologne? I liked it. He didn’t touch me as I walked by. I kept my back to him until I had my long wool coat securely on and buttoned.

Then I turned.

He was looking at me, his shoulders tipped slightly down, body language visibly tense, as if a fire burned beneath his skin.

I knew the feeling.

“Ready?” I asked.

“I am. Are you?” He smiled, just a curve of his lips, and I wanted to kiss him, to open his mouth with my own and taste him.

I’d show him who was ready.

“Sure.” It came out a little breathless, and I cleared my throat to get my volume back. “Bye, Nola. See you in a few hours.”

“Or, you know, call,” she said.

I gave her a look, then walked past Zayvion and out into the hall. He followed, pausing near enough that even with his hands in his pockets, I could feel the heat of him behind me as I turned to lock the door.

I took a step backward, hoping to feel the press of his body. Instead, he stepped in time with me, moving backward as if we were dancing, as if he had an instinctive knowledge of my body and his moving as one. As if he remembered very well that we had been lovers, even though I did not.

I held still, waiting, wishing he would touch me. Instead, he walked around and stood next to me.

Damn.

“You are hungry, aren’t you?”

“Starving,” I said.

He tipped his head toward the end of the hallway and the stairs that led down. “Good. Let’s not lose our reservation.”

“Right.” I strolled over to the stairs.

He walked with me. “If I knew you had that dress in your closet,” he said while looking straight ahead, “I would have taken you out somewhere nice a long time ago.”

“Really? Before or after the psychopath tried to kill me?”

“Which psychopath?”

And seriously, if he had to ask that question-and he did-how crazy had my life been lately?

“Allie?” Zayvion asked.

“Minute. I’m thinking.” How many psychopaths had I been dealing with? There was Bonnie, who had tried to shoot me. James, who was in jail now for trying to kill Zayvion, Cody, and me. Then there was the gunman I couldn’t remember who left a bullet scar across my ribs.