Ezra studied the floor, his gaze distant. “When you take a life, which is worse? Feeling tormented over it, or being at peace with it because you believe it was the only option?”

A shudder ran through me. Twice I’d killed a person, and both times there’d been no other option. Aaron, Kai, and Ezra had all talked to me about it, checking every few weeks that I was okay. And I was, mostly. Nightmares were a thing, but not every night. Guilt was a thing, but not all the time.

I tried to imagine pushing that witch to his death and feeling only steady assurance that killing the man had been necessary.

“What do you feel?” I mumbled. “Are you at peace with the lives you’ve taken?”

His arm tightened around me. “No. Never.”

How many times had he killed to protect his secrets? To prolong his life even though he believed he’d die in a few years anyway? I didn’t know. He almost never talked about his past—just like me.

My mouth popped open. I stared sightlessly, mentally smacking myself in the forehead.

Just. Like. Me. I never talked about my past. I wanted to know Ezra’s whole story, the nightmare tale about how he’d become a demon mage, what Enright was, and how’d he escaped the “extermination”—but aside from a few vague comments, I’d never told him anything about my own ugly history.

Sweat broke out on my forehead. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t expose that part of me to anyone. I couldn’t …

But this was Ezra.

“My dad was a drunk,” I blurted.

His head snapped up, confusion and surprise scrunching his forehead. I took one panicked look at his face and squeezed my eyes shut.

“He was a drunk. He hit my mom. She couldn’t take it and she left. She said … The last night, she said she couldn’t do it anymore and she cried, and she told Justin to take care of me, and she said Dad would never hit his kids so we’d be okay. And she left.”

“Tori …” Ezra whispered.

“A week later, he hit Justin for the first time. He—he just had to hit someone, I guess.” My mouth trembled. “But Justin wasn’t my mom. He was twelve then, almost thirteen, and he didn’t take it lying down. So my dad hit him harder. By the time Justin turned fifteen, we—we were afraid he’d kill Justin. And Justin … it was the same as with Mom. He came to my room one night, and he said he had to go. And I told him to go. And we cried, and he left.”

Ezra wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. I struggled to breathe, eyes still closed.

“That …” I cleared my throat in a vain attempt to reset my voice from the hoarse quaver it had become. “That’s all I’ve got for today.”

A long pause. “I don’t understand.”

I opened my eyes, proud that they were tear-free, and offered him a wobbly smile. “It’s really difficult for me to talk about, and I can’t—if I talk about it for more than sixty seconds, it’s like going back in time. I can’t do it.”

He pulled me onto his lap and banded his arms around my shoulders, holding me tight against his chest. I snaked my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispered into my hair. “You don’t have to relive it for me.”

“I know.” I inhaled his calming scent. “I want to. It’s just going to take me a while.”

He gently caressed the back of my neck. “Okay. But Tori? Can I ask … why now?”

“It just seemed fair. You told me some stuff, but I haven’t told you anything.”

“Yes, but why now? This particular minute?”

I shrugged, face still buried in his chest. “Because I thought of it right now.”

A moment of surprised silence, then a quiet chuckle. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“That makes sense in a very Tori way.”

“What does that mean?” I grumped.

He tightened his arms around me. “It’s fine. I enjoy a bit of unpredictability to spice up my boring life.”

I straightened—which put us nose to nose. I was sitting on his lap, my legs hanging off the back of the padded bench.

“You should put yourself out there more,” I told him seriously. “Take more risks. Have more adventures.”

“I do play it safe,” he agreed so somberly I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.

“Live life to its fullest,” I said in my best inspirational-speaker voice. “Take the bull by the horns. Seize the day. Carpe diem!”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“You should be more like me,” I decided loftily. “I know how to have a good time.”

His lips pressed tight together.

“I mean, if you’ve never broken a mythic’s face with an umbrella, are you even living?”

He made a strangled sound in his throat—then a snorting laugh broke through his control.

“Aha!” I crowed, throwing my hands into the air. “You laughed first! I win!”

He caught my waist before I could topple backward off his lap with my exuberant celebration.

Laughing, I looped my arms around his neck. “Admit it. I won.”

His eyes met mine, strangely serious even as they sparkled with mirth. “You’re too stubborn to lose.”

My fingers tangled in his damp hair as I leaned in. “Damn right.”

His gaze drifted to my mouth—and I was already closing the distance. Our lips met.

I kissed him slowly, savoring every feeling: his mouth, soft and firm; his scruff against my chin; the rush of his escaping breath; his heavenly scent, the nameless ambrosia I couldn’t get enough of. Everything about him wrapped around me, a warm cocoon that blocked out the world.

My lips drifted across his, then I pulled back. Every atom of my being demanded I keep kissing him, but I shoved it all aside. This wasn’t about me.

“Ezra, is this okay? You said you want to be friends, and if that’s what you want, I can …” My nose scrunched. “I can do that, I swear. I can just be your friend.”

I ignored the ridiculousness of that statement while I was straddling his lap, hands tangled in his hair, moments after kissing him.

He brushed his thumb across my cheek as sorrow darkened his eyes. “I don’t want to cause you more pain.”

Telling him I’d find a way to save him wouldn’t change his mind about anything, so I said, “I can handle it.”

“Maybe … but I’m not sure I can.”

My heart twisted. I blew out a long breath. “I understand. Do you want me to get off you?”

He stared at me, then shut his eyes with a muttered curse.

“Is that a … no?”

“I don’t know.”

He didn’t open his eyes, probably hoping a lack of visual stimulation would bolster his willpower—though he hadn’t moved his hand from my neck, which told me his strategy wasn’t working in the slightest. Sympathy welled in me. This wasn’t fair to him. He was trying to do the right thing for me, and I wasn’t making it easy for him.

Besides, since I was going to save him anyway, I could wait. Patience was my middle name.

Actually, no, it wasn’t. Not even close. But I could still be patient.

I dragged one leg off the bench, shifting backward so I could slide off his lap. His eyes flew open, and I smiled reassuringly as I withdrew my hands from his hair. I pushed to my feet—

His hand tightened on the back of my neck, and he pulled my mouth down onto his.

My stomach did a free-falling somersault. My hands were back on him in an instant, my lips crushed to his, lungs empty and heart racing. He grabbed my waistband and dragged me back onto his lap. I clamped my arms around him, erasing the space between our bodies. His hands found my hips, fingers digging in, holding me down in the absolute sexiest way possible.

“Goddamn it, Ezra,” I groaned against his mouth.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I—”

I covered his mouth with mine before he could talk either of us into separating again. His tongue slipped between my lips and I moaned softly. Resisting him was a losing battle. Totally futile. What was the point?

I needed him so badly it hurt to breathe.

Pulling back, the air cold on my lips, I looked into his mismatched eyes. My mouth opened, terrifying words building up in my throat, fighting to escape, but I wasn’t sure I could say them. I should. I needed to. But—

Ezra’s brow scrunched—and his head jerked to the left. I looked in the same direction.

Oh shit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shiiiiit.

Kai stood three steps away, arms crossed over his bare chest, one dark eyebrow arched.

Chapter Nineteen

I squinted critically at my reflection. Combat belt over fitted leather pants. Snug-fitting top with a leather jacket over it, discreetly padded for extra protection. Heavy black hiking boots with steel toes. My red curls, gently tamed with hair product, fell around my shoulders, and I’d applied just enough makeup to not look like a pasty corpse with all the black I was wearing.

With a flash of silver, Hoshi swirled down from the ceiling, blinking her huge pink eyes.

“How do I look?” I asked her. “Would you believe I’m an experienced combat mythic on the trail of a dangerous rogue?”

She chuffed softly and bumped her nose into my shoulder. Colors flickered through my head, along with an image of my face. Was that a yes?

Dipping down, she pushed her head into the pouch on the back of my belt. She slid into the pocket, coiling her body into a tight orb with blue and pink ridges. Weird, but cool.

Relieved that she was coming with me, I grabbed my plain brown folder off the counter, pushed open the bathroom door, and walked into the pub. It was another busy evening, the Saturday dinner rush worse than usual. Everyone was buzzing over the inexplicable attack on the Pandora Knights two days ago, and the SeaDevils last night.

Cooper rushed around behind the bar, his greasy hair sticking to his face. Sliding a drink to Bryce, he spotted me on my way by.