Stone Cold Touch. Jennifer L. Armentrout

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СКАЧАТЬ if coming out of a trance and fixed my gaze on the people crowding the sidewalk. The sky was overcast from the recent cold rain and the clouds looked fat with more, but there were no traces of a soul to be found. I shook my head. “I’m okay.”

      We didn’t speak again during the unnecessarily long drive to the compound just over the bridge. Traffic was always a pain. When Morris drove me, he didn’t talk—he never talked—but I’d pretend to have a conversation with him. With Nicolai, it was just about seven kinds of awkward. I wondered if he still thought I’d betrayed the clan by assisting Roth in finding the Lesser Key of Solomon, if he’d ever smile at me again.

      It seemed as if it took thirty minutes and ten years before the Escalade rolled to a smooth stop in front of the compound. As usual, I grabbed my bag and threw open the door. I’d done it so many times I didn’t look where I put my foot. I knew the curb of the sidewalk leading to the porch steps would be there.

      Except as I hopped down, my booted foot met nothing but air. Caught off balance, I threw my hands out as I toppled forward. My backpack was flung to the side as I went down palms first. Bambi shifted without warning, curling along my waist as if she sought to somehow not end up squished if I went down.

      Real helpful there.

      I caught myself before I kissed the pavement, sliding on the slippery, broken stone. Skin tore across my hands, sparking little bites of pain.

      Nicolai was out of the Escalade and by my side in record time, swearing loudly. “Are you all right, little one?”

      “Ouch,” I moaned, rocking back on my knees as I lifted my battered hands. Other than feeling like a three-legged gazelle, I was okay. Cheeks red, I bit my lip to stop a flood of curse words from coming out. “I’m fine.”

      “You sure?” He curled his hand around my upper arm, helping me stand. Bambi shifted positions the moment he came in contact with me, and I felt her crawl up the side of my neck, reaching my jaw. Nicolai saw it, too, jerking his hand back. He cleared his throat as he fixed his stare on my eyes. “Your palms are scratched.”

      “They’ll heal.” And they’d heal within hours. Hopefully Bambi would slither back to somewhere less visible in that time. None of the Wardens liked to see her for a crap ton of reasons. “What happened to the curb?”

      “No idea.” Nicolai frowned as he stared at the crumbled gray stone. “Must’ve been all the rain.”

      “Odd,” I muttered, spying my bag in a puddle. I sighed as I stomped over to it and wrenched it out of the muckiness.

      Nicolai followed me up the steps. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? I can get Jasmine to take a look at your hands.”

      I had no idea why Jasmine, a member of the New York clan of Wardens, was still here. Not that I had any problems with her. Her younger sister Danika, the beautiful, full-blooded gargoyle who wanted to make babies with Zayne, was another story. Then again, considering all that Roth and I had shared, I really had no room to be jealous.

      But the bitter burn was there every time I saw the dark-haired beauty. Double standards sucked, but oh wellsies.

      “Really. I’m good,” I said as we waited for Geoff, hidden somewhere in the belly of the compound, to unlock the doors. “I’m just obviously not very graceful.”

      Nicolai didn’t respond and—thank baby Jesus and cuddly angels—the front door opened. Careful not to step through an unexpected hole in the floor, I set my bag down just inside the door and hurried upstairs to my bedroom.

      Good news. I didn’t fall down the stairs and Bambi had decided to get off my face and was now back to curling around my body.

      Traffic and my impromptu face-plant outside had made me late to meet Zayne, but as I toed off my boots, I wasn’t sure how focused on training I’d be considering there seemed to be a wire suddenly missing in my brain.

      Why couldn’t I see souls? And what did that mean?

      I needed to tell someone—I would tell Zayne, but not his father. I didn’t trust Abbot so much anymore. Not since discovering that he’d known all along who my mother and father were. And I was pretty sure he didn’t 100 percent trust my rosy-red behind either.

      I dragged a pair of sweats and a T-shirt out from my dresser and tossed them on the bed. Padding around my room in my socks, I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled my sweater off over my head. Static crackled in my loose hair, causing thin wisps to stand up around my head. Zayne would know what to do. Since Roth—

      My bedroom door flew open and Zayne burst in. “Nicolai told me—holy Christ.”

      I froze by the bed, my eyes increasing to the size of spaceships. Holy balls. My sweater was still wrapped around one arm, but I was wearing nothing else but my bra—my black bra—and my jeans, which were half-unbuttoned. Not sure why the color of my bra made a difference, but I stood there, my mouth gaping.

      Zayne had come to a standstill, and like with Nicolai, I saw no pearly glow surrounding him. But at the moment I was more preoccupied with what Zayne did see: me, standing in front of him in my bra—my black bra.

      His beautiful blue eyes were wide, the pupils slightly vertical. His wavy blond hair, which he’d chopped off recently, was still long enough to frame broad cheekbones. His full lips were parted.

      For ten years, I’d grown up with Zayne by my side. He was four years older than me and I’d idolized him like any little sister would, but nothing I’d felt for Zayne, at least not in the past couple of years, had been sisterly. I’d wanted him ever since I was old enough to appreciate rock-hard abs on a dude.

      But Zayne had been and would always be off-limits to me.

      He was a full-blooded Warden and although I couldn’t see his soul right now, I knew he had one and it was pure. And while he’d had no problem getting überclose with me in the past, a relationship with anyone with a soul would be too dangerous considering I’d turn them into a soul-flavored Slurpee.

      And his father expected him to mate with Danika.

      Blech.

      Right in that moment though, his potential baby-making future with Danika seemed far removed from this room. Zayne was staring at me as if he’d never truly seen me before, and I honestly couldn’t think of a time he’d seen me in even a bathing suit, let alone a bra. I tried not to think about the red polka-dot undies peeking out from behind the gap in my jeans.

      And then I realized what he was staring at.

      A flush raced across my cheeks and then followed his gaze down my neck and lower. I could feel Bambi’s tail twitching along my spine. She was curled around my waist, with her long neck stretched up between my breasts. Her head rested on the swell of my right breast as if it was her own personal pillow, right below where my necklace hung.

      Zayne’s gaze tracked the length of the tattoo, and I cringed as the flush deepened. What must he be thinking at the sight of Bambi so blatantly on display, a blunt reminder of how different I was from him? I didn’t want to know.

      He took a step forward and stopped again as his stare traveled up with enough intensity to feel like a physical caress. Something shifted in me, and the embarrassment faded into heady warmth. A heaviness settled in my chest, and muscles low in my stomach clenched.

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