Page 57

“What is your problem?” he growls, his face inches from mine. I try to shake my head, but he doesn’t let me.

“You’re going to fucking tell me, because if you don’t, I swear, Red, the moment you heal I’m bending you over my lap and smacking that ass until it’s red. Then I’m going to tie you to my bed and edge you on all night until you’re screaming and crying. I will deny you even then, so what the fuck is your problem?”

“It’s stupid,” I whisper.

“Nothing you feel or think is stupid.” His thumb brushes my tears away. “Whatever it is, tell me.”

“What color are your eyes?”

“Blue, they’re bright, almost like the ocean, but deep ocean, the clear deep ocean. They’re light like the sun again.”

I don’t realize I’m smiling until his thumb swipes against my bottom lip.I might not have any clue what blue looks like. But I like the idea of just knowing the color.

“Blond hair, blue eyes. Sounds like an angel,” I whisper.

“I’m no angel, but I will gladly make you see the stars where they live,” he murmurs before pressing his lips against mine. “You don’t get to do that again,” Zion says, backing away slightly.

“What?” I blink my eyes back open, trying to understand what he’s talking about.

"Almost die.”

I furrow my brows, confused more than ever at what he’s talking about. Thankfully, I don’t have to ask before he’s telling me.

“I barely made it here in time.”

“You still made it.”

“Barely.”

“You’re always saving me,” I realize. Zion is truly always saving me. First, the basement, the bus, and apparently when my body decides it rejects another part of myself.

“I’ll always save you, Red. Always.”

If only that were true.

17

Zion

Therainagainsttheroof echoes around the kitchen as I start another cup of coffee for Izel. She’s addicted to coffee, and the way she’s addicted is not normal. There’s no way that someone drinks five or more cups a day. I’ve used a coffee pot more times than I thought I would in my life. Even Ma, who worked fourteen hours, sometimes even more as a nurse, never drank that much.

It’s not normal.

Izel also is very specific on what kind of coffee she wants. It can’t be hazelnut; she absolutely hates it. It has to be either French vanilla or caramel. She also likes it sweeter than fucking pie. Splenda, not sugar, and it has to be an oat creamer, not dairy.

The coffee machine beeps, letting me know it’s done. Pulling a cup down from the cupboard, I pour the coffee in, four tablespoons of Splenda, and then six tablespoons of the creamer.

Grabbing the mug, I turn around just as the back door shuts and Gabriel appears around the corner.Water drips onto the tiled floor, causing my eye to twitch.

“That for Izel?” he asks, motioning towards my hand. Nodding my head, I go to sidestep him when he takes the mug from me and takes a large drink. “Thanks.” He laughs.

“That was for your sister,” I growl, getting irritated that I’m going to have to remake her special fucking coffee all over again.

“Well, my dear sister won’t be drinking any coffee any time soon.”

Opening the cupboard, I pull another mug down. “Wait, what?” I say, realizing what he just said.

“She’s busy, so she won’t be drinking coffee anytime soon,” Gabriel repeats like I’m the dumbest kid in school. Rolling my eyes, I set the mug back down and turn my entire focus back to him.