The Finisher (Dark Verse Book 4)
: Part 1 – Chapter 8

Zephyr

ZEPHYR HAD ONCE GONE on a school trip from Los Fortis a hundred miles south, and that had been the most adventurous she’d ever been. Aside from that, the only trips she’d been on had been to visit her aunts who lived an hour away. She’d never left the country, much less the continent, and never been on a flight, much less one like this.

Victor and Diaz, another guy she’d been introduced to, less hot but more charming, sat in the back of the private plane as their security detail on the trip. Hector was staying back, clearly being Alpha’s second-in-command, to keep everything under control for the two days they’d be gone.

She looked around the inside of the private jet she’d been ushered and strapped onto, at the lush beige seats and gleaming wooden table and the neat walls, and it truly sank in for the first time—he’d made it. From the boy she had first seen with the torn clothes to the man who now wore an expensive leather jacket and owned a private jet, he’d made it out, and though she couldn’t tell him, she felt something like pride bubble inside her. And lord, she wished Adriana—the kind, dying woman who had befriended a scared little girl in a strange place to give her comfort—could have seen her son now. She’d have been proud.

Zephyr turned to the window and blinked rapidly, trying to clear away the burn in her eyes and the sting in her nose. He was suspicious about her motives anyway, and she didn’t need to give him more reason to think she was crazier and cried at nothing.

A slender blond with really nice hair handed them some water. “Would you like anything else?”

Zephyr thanked her. “Just a quick question, is that your natural hair color?”

The blond blinked in surprise. “Yes.”

Damn. “It’s a lovely shade. You’re rocking it.”

The attendant gave her a surprised smile and left, and she turned to see the man across from her watching her as though he was trying to figure her out.

“What?” she demanded, slightly conscious of the way he was analyzing her.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just studying her, and Zephyr tried to relax, wondering what went on in his head.

“Let’s get some things straight between us,” he said as preamble, and Zephyr braced herself. “Your grandmother’s fund might be the excuse you’re giving to me, and a whirlwind romance an excuse you’re giving your family, but I know you have another motive for marrying me. The only reason you’re my wife right now is that I’m intrigued. I don’t know what your endgame is, but I will figure it out, so don’t think I’m fooled for one second.”

God, she hoped he figured it out, but if he didn’t remember her after spending all the time with her, she doubted he would. But she wouldn’t tell him that. Knowing how cynical he was, it would backfire in her own face. His lack of memory probably had something to do with his eye injury. Maybe, his brain had blocked some stuff out to protect him. She’d seen that happen in movies but it was realistically plausible, and until she spoke to someone who knew trauma about it, she wasn’t going to say a thing and risk retraumatizing him.

No, she had to make him love her all over again, this new him with this new her. It could happen.

“And I don’t know where you got your information about me,” he continued, his voice rough and deep, reminding her of wilderness. “But I will replace that out too. I hope it ends up being only for your grandmother’s heirlooms because you won’t like the alternative.”

He was kinda hot when he was threatening her, though she doubted he’d appreciate it if she said that to his face at the moment.

“Now I just need to figure out if you’re one hell of a liar or not.”

Zephyr took a sip of her water. “I’m an open book.”

Alpha mimicked her movement and drank his water, the motion of the muscles in his neck very sexy. God, he’d gotten sexier over the years, and she had no shame in admitting she wanted him in bed, out of bed, against the wall, whatever way she could have him.

“Just in case you’re not a liar—” he placed his glass on the table between them, his hand enhancing the fragility of the glass, “—consider this a simple warning not to expect anything romantic from this relationship. My curiosity about you does not equal romantic interest. If you expect anything on those lines, you will be disappointed. I don’t love.”

Liar. He did love, he just didn’t want to. But she knew he had his shields in place, and this Alpha clearly had a shit ton of trust issues, so she didn’t take his warning lightly. She’d have to wade through these waters with the baggage of his past and hope they could make it to the shore.

“Too bad,” she shrugged lightly. “I tend to get attached to my lovers.”

“I’m not your lover,” he reminded her.

She smiled.

“I won’t be your lover either.” The side of his jaw ticced. “Lust leaves me empty now. It’s better in the long run anyway.”

“So I’ll be what… your roommate?” she huffed a laugh.

He tapped his fingers on the table between them. He liked tapping things. God, her brain was a smutwreck.

“You can have your own room.’ Tap, tap, tap. ‘For the duration of the marriage, let’s just share each other’s company. I replace you interesting enough. We can be cordial, but it’s best not to complicate things more by adding anything sexual in the mix.”

“We have chemistry,” she pointed out.

“A pity kiss doesn’t count.”

Pity kiss, her ass. He’d been as into it as she.

‘It’s hot chemistry,’ she leaned forward.

He shrugged. ‘I had chemistry with my sister-in-law to be. Doesn’t mean I acted on it.’

Oh wow. Zephyr blinked and processed the fact that she would get to meet someone he’d considered being with.

‘Chemistry lies, Zephyr,’ he went on after dropping that bomb.

‘Then what tells the truth?’ She tilted her head to the side, curious about his thought process.

‘Heart,’ he stated, no affliction in his voice.

‘And what does yours say?’

The unscarred side of his lips lifted. ‘Nothing. Fucker hasn’t spoken in years. It’s a dead, scarred piece of useless muscle.’

God, it hurt her. It hurt her that he’d built himself a tower with walls so high it had become impenetrable.

‘You are hope, sunshine. Hope for a better life.’

The boy who’d told her that clearly lived on the tower, unreachable. But she would scale the walls if she had to, get to the top, and rescue her lover. She would give him hope again if it was the last thing that she did.

His plan to stay away from her wouldn’t work, but she kept that to herself. She would tempt him and seduce him until he gave in. There was nothing more powerful than a woman on a mission. Telling him her plans involved some solid skin slapping probably wasn’t for the best for now.

She raised her glass of water to him. “To chemistries that lie.”

He raised his. ‘And hearts that die.’

Oh boy, he had no idea the CPR she had planned for him.

They went quiet, but companionably. Zephyr took out her ebook reader and pretended to be engrossed in a novel while covertly watching him; he simply looked out the window, lost in thought. The attendant came again with some overloaded sandwiches and Zephyr put her reader down, happy to have an excuse to engage him in conversation again.

“I thought you’d be working on your laptop or something, master of the universe as you are,” she teased, unwrapping her sandwich.

“I can’t read,” he told her simply.

Zephyr paused, completely taken aback. She hadn’t been expecting that reply.

Her surprise must have been evident on her face because he explained. “I didn’t grow up with much money. My ma sent me to school but I dropped out after she passed away.”

“I’m sorry.” She extended her hand and gave him a soft squeeze, surprising him. “You must’ve learned to read by then.”

“Yeah, but when this happened—” he pointed to his eye patch “—reading smaller things got hard. I just stopped after a while.” He seemed to shake himself, watching her curiously with his single eye. “I don’t usually talk about it.”

A little piece of her heart melted. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’ She gave him a small smile and watched him look away, clearly uncomfortable at having shared so much. She let him be, noticing now how he slowly peeled the wrapper on his sandwich mostly with his left hand and wondered what little everyday things that most people took for granted he had to work hard to accomplish. Was everything in his house sound-controlled? Did the injury affect more than his vision and memory? His hearing? His sense of balance? She’d seen him fighting and moving well enough but was that natural or something he’d trained himself to do?

Something occurred to her then. “Is that why you didn’t reply to my texts?”

He looked up, putting the sandwich down. “I don’t like phones. And I don’t text anyone. People who have my number are business contacts. They just call.”

And there she’d thought he’d ghosted her. She needed to be more considerate of his new body, and the ways it affected him. ‘So I can just call you now?’

He grunted, focusing on his sandwich.

‘Will you save my contact as wifey?’

The look she got would have flayed the flesh from a lesser mortal.

Chuckling, she took a bite of the chicken sandwich, the cheese melting in her mouth, and groaned before stopping herself, replaceing him looking at her. The insecurity reared its ugly head, especially when eating with people. Used to people nagging her about what she ate, she half-expected him to do the same, half expected him to go ‘that’s a lot of cheese’ or ‘you should eat only two’.

He looked at her mouth, simply picked up his own sandwich, took a bite, and nodded. “Hmm.”

And that was that.

Zephyr sat for a second, looking down at the bread, processing what just happened.

Nothing had really happened, but something had happened.

Born in a family of tall women with perfect figures who didn’t gain an inch no matter what they put in their bodies, Zephyr had always been well-intentionally teased about being short and full-figured by her mom, her aunts, her cousins, everyone. Zen, though adopted, fit in more with their family’s genetics than she did.

When she’d been nineteen, a hormonal imbalance had made her rapidly gain weight. She’d spent the next few years on medication, bringing the hormones and the weight down, and ended up being curvy as hell, only amplified by her short height. She did Pilates diligently, her body was flexible and strong, and now even though she was the healthiest that she’d ever been, people around her somehow always ended up telling her, in the most well-meaning way possible, to lose a few more pounds. She’d look ‘so much prettier.’ She was already fucking pretty. She had her own sense of style, she took her medication, and took care of her body. But it was the first time someone, aside from Zen, had eaten with her and not pointed it out.

Maybe it was because his own body was imperfect by other people’s standards. Maybe it was because he was a man who didn’t even notice or think about it.

Whatever it was, he just did it.

And then, he expected her not to have any romantic notions. She was already a goner.

She took another bite of the delicious sandwich, enjoying the companionable silence as they both ate, silently falling a little more in love with the new him, enough for the both of them until he could catch up.