Zina had a fluttering, cautious laugh like a wise, classy woman. My dick twitched.
“It’s coming back to me,” I said. “You were playing a courtesan in Venice. A poet. I thought you were a human at first. I didn’t understand what that was all about. How you were able to hide your wings from me.”
“Old trick of the trade. I’ll teach you. Anyway, those years were a mistake. I was trying to protect one of my souls at the time—a young woman who was selling herself cheaply and dangerously. I was teaching her the ropes, or trying to.”
“So you revealed yourself?”
“That was the only time, and I regret it. She fell madly in love with me, and I with her. She took her own life after I tried to remove myself from her thoughts. Something went terribly wrong.” Zina looked as though she was about to cry. She shook the thoughts away. “That was a long time ago.”
Zina was definitely older than me but not by much. I could tell by the way she talked. After hearing Zina’s story, I felt sick over what I had done to Evey. I worried about her.
“You and I slept together, didn’t we?”
She laughed again. “Am I that forgettable?”
“No,” I said instantly. “You’re gorgeous… captivating.”
A moment later, our bodies were connected. I moved in and out of Zina, caressing her smooth skin while she made beautiful sounds. Her wings were spread high above her head, and her hands were bracing my sides. We moved together for a long time. It felt good, but something was missing. I finally came twenty minutes later when I closed my eyes and thought about Evey.
Zina and I respectfully washed each other in the shower.
She stood on her tippy toes and kissed my forehead. “You’re different than the others, Lucian.”
“I know.”
She smiled. “You’re hopeless.”
“I know,” I said, my voice barely audible.
Magic hour was ending, and I wanted to get back to Evey. When I hit the street, everything was moving fast. I was so dizzy I almost fell down.
“Shit,” I said, looking at my watch, which was frozen. It had stopped working.
“What’s wrong?” Zina said, standing beside me.
“How much time has passed since the magic hours ended?”
She checked her phone. “About forty-five minutes. I’m sure your souls will be fine. It’s early.”
“Soul,” I said mindlessly. “I gotta run.” I kissed her cheek and took flight.
MY DREAMS HAVE always been nonsensical—until last night. I didn’t know I was dreaming. I kept thinking I was exactly where I should be. I was with a man, familiar but mysterious. He was sexy and cocky, and he was feeding me. We were on a date at a restaurant, laughing and having smart conversation. A minute later, he changed. His expression dropped, he squinted, and at once, he seemed lovesick and tormented. He was whispering to me, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I closed my eyes to try to listen closely, and when I opened them, we were standing side by side, still and naked like winter trees in a creek. There was nothing around us but darkness. When I shivered, he touched my hand and I was warm.
“Who are you?” I asked him.
“Lucian.”
I could hear his voice. It was rough, pained. That was the end.
When I woke up from the dream, I started crying because I remembered him. I knew him and I didn’t know how. I knew his scent, his voice, his angled features, his full lips, and his searching eyes. I knew his warmth, his touch, and the comfort I felt near him. But awake, I was longing for him. It was excruciating. I was losing my mind. I was being fanatical, paranoid, melodramatic. None of those things were typical of me. I had always been pragmatic and certain of what was and what wasn’t out there.
I went to the kitchen in my sweats and grabbed my keys. Brooklyn was sitting at the round table, slurping up cereal.
“You’re up early,” she said.
“I’m leaving. Going to Tracey’s house to work on the denim. I’m really behind and need to catch up on some things. I have to get going.”
“You look like shit, Pinky.”
“Hey, Brooklyn, I hate that nickname. I’ve always wanted to tell you that.”
“I thought you liked it,” she whined.
“I got pink eye from your house two days before our prom. I’m a little bitter about it.”
“Sheesh, I thought we were cycle sisters. You shouldn’t have PMS for another two weeks. Or are you just being emo cause you didn’t get laid the other night?”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. She was impossible. “Brooklyn, do we know someone named Lucian? Like a really good-looking guy, wears black, maybe longish hair, a touch of facial scruff.”
Through a mouthful of Cocoa Puffs, she mumbled, “No, sounds hot though.”
“Wings,” I said.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“He might have wings.”
She spit out her cereal. “Wings?”
I nodded. “Wings.”
“Aww, honey, have you been eating? You do look emaciated. Or are you hallucinating from the X still? Geez, did Keith slip you something else? Should I drive you to work?”
“No.” I shook my head. Brooklyn was a terrible driver, but anyway, I wanted to be alone. “I’m fine, just had a weird dream.”
“I’d say.”
“I’ll be at Tracey’s in San Rafael. I hate that I have to drive all the way out there when we should be working in the warehouse. She’s such a lazy bitch.” I was trying to change the subject.