Just Breathe (19 page)

Yeah, dream deprivation was a bitch. So was harboring your worst enemy’s Fire inside you.

Every time they leaped over one hurdle, they encountered two more. It was a never-ending fight to be together. When he wasn’t killing her or making deals to whore himself out to his ex.

Tired of the bullshit, he scrubbed his face. He didn’t want to think about any of it. “Frozen pizza. Can’t we just sit down together and share a shitty frozen pizza?”

Her aura muted. She slid her hand under his and wiggled her fingers. “On one condition. We have to pick up ice cream and hot fudge. For sundaes.”

He laughed for the first time in days. It felt good. “Okay. For you. I don’t like chocolate.”

“No? I’ll bet I can change your mind.” She fisted her wet hair and pushed it off her face. The tiny droplets on her neck sparkled like stars, begging to be licked.

“There aren’t many places open this late.”

“Find me hot fudge, or you go home alone tonight.”

“Okay, okay.” He slammed the car in gear and shot like a bullet down the street.

An hour later, after a shopping excursion at a late night Seven Eleven, Gavin unloaded a tub of vanilla ice cream with a questionable freshness date and a pot of microwave chocolate fondue sauce on his kitchen counter. He’d tried to explain that hot fudge wasn’t very big in Australia, but Zoe wouldn’t be satisfied until she had something resembling her favorite treat.

God damn it, he could get used to shopping with her. And maybe even hot fudge.

Zoe bent to switch on the oven. She was still soaked from the rain and her swim with the Elementals earlier, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her arse under the wetsuit…

A flash of Scarlet’s pleased, evil grin as she ground against his cock stole into his head. Gavin’s stomach clenched at the unwelcome punch of the heated memory.
Not now. Please.

Zoe leaned against the counter and rested her hands on the edge. The corners of that sexy mouth turned up a tad. He could kiss her. Take her right there in the kitchen…

Searing pain cut loose inside him as Scarlet’s Fire attempted to exert its dominance again. It thrashed like a wild, rabid beast—claws out, teeth bared. He covered his surprise by wrenching open the freezer and shuffling around for the pizza. Alarm wound up the muscles in his back, weaving a tapestry of terror. Jesus Christ.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, and scurried down the hall to his room, his chest on the verge of a meltdown.

What should he do? He was losing his shit, and once again, Zoe was the innocent victim who’d bear the brunt of it if the Fire took control. Worry scuttled up and down his spinal column, interspersed with sharp blasts of white-hot hatred.

Cinnamon bled through his skin, beading like sweat. No, no, fucking hell, no. He rubbed at his colorful arms. The scent intensified. Now he panicked in earnest.

“Gavin?” Zoe stood in the doorway, eyes wide. She stepped into the room. Her calming whale song followed. “You okay?”

He quickly rummaged through the nearest drawer for a diversion and held up a ball of black cotton. “Yeah. Here’s a shirt if you want to change. I doubt any of my pants would fit, but this ought to be long enough to cover you.”

She accepted the wrinkled mess and brushed the Fire tattoos on his right forearm. Heat flared in his tendons. More of that awful smell released into the air. He snatched some clothes for himself from the open drawer and pressed them over the tattoos to mask the concentrated stench. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.” Voice cracking, he pointed a thumb toward the bathroom.

“Sure. I’ll handle the pizza.” Brow ruffled, she let him pass, and he got the hell away from her.

As soon as the bathroom door shut, he stripped, tossed his clothes in a pile on the floor, and toed them away as if they were diseased. Might as well have been with that foul odor saturating them.

The shower burst to life with a jerk of his wrist. Water. God, he needed Water. And more soap.

He didn’t wait for the spray to warm. He had to tame this raging Fire and get Scarlet’s stink off him before he hurt Zoe again. That sickening smell was a brutal reminder of every terrible thing he’d done to the one he loved for the one he hated. Lowering his head under the faucet, he closed his eyes and began to scrub.

* * * *

September 17

The pizza had come out of the oven and gone cold.

Water continued to hum through the pipes.

Still no Gavin.

Enough of this. It was almost two a.m. He’d been in there forever. Zoe stomped down the hall and rapped on the bathroom door. “You okay?”

“Just a few more minutes.” His voice sounded strained.

She stared at the knot patterns in the wood of the door. Something was wrong. She turned the knob. Unlocked. “I’m coming in.”

“No, Zed—”

Steam clouded the mirror and raced out as if fleeing a murder scene. Zoe took a deep breath of the fog and drew back the shower curtain.

Gavin sat naked in the tub, his big body folded into the small space, scouring the living hell out of his arm with a bloody, soapy washcloth. Water spat at him from the showerhead. He gazed up at her like a frightened animal, eyes wild. Rabid.

Dear God. She combed shaking fingers through her hair.

“I can’t get clean enough. I can’t get the fucking smell of her off me.” Gavin rubbed at his arms and chest, grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked until a light clump of black fell and swirled into the pool of water draining slowly around him.

Zoe turned off the tap. She snatched a towel from the rack, got in the tub fully clothed, and threw the terrycloth over him. His teeth chattered violently. His skin was icy.

She took his cold hands and brought them to her heart. Her beautiful Gavin. Tears flooded her eyes. “What happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”

He fell against her chest. She slid her arms around his back and hugged him tightly. His broad, quaking shoulders rocked her to the core.

“She’s inside me, and I can’t get her out. Can’t you smell her?” He buried his face in her neck. “I’m so sorry, Zed.”

Zoe choked back the whimper ready to spring from the trap of her throat. Visions of the crying little boy in the Sydney restaurant from twenty years ago flashed in her mind. She gulped in a breath. “Who’s inside you?”

“Scarlet.” He snarled. “Her Fire’s bleeding out of me.”

Jesus. Gavin still hadn’t forgiven himself. He couldn’t let go of what he’d done to her. In a strange way, the knowledge was a relief.

She blinked her brimming tears away and stroked his short hair. “I don’t smell anything. Just you.” She kissed the top of his head and held him.

God, she loved this man. Mr. Perfect from her dreams, Mr. Perfect in her reality, despite his flaws.

As time stretched, his trembling stilled. Trailing her fingers down his rugged cheek, she pulled back to look at him, and whispered, “Let’s go to bed.”

Eyes closed, he nodded slowly.

She helped him up, and they climbed out of the tub. As he flipped the towel around his waist, she got an eyeful of him. She bit her lip and tried not to stare at all that hard muscle.

And stuff.

She clasped his hand and led him to the bedroom. The towel dropped, and he slid under the covers. One painted arm tucked under his head, he watched as she peeled off her wetsuit and slipped on the oversized black shirt he’d offered before. There was no lust or greed in his expression, but man, she would have jumped him and gone ten rounds if he hadn’t been so upset.

She tilted her head and grinned. “Better?”

“Yeah.” He smiled weakly as he lifted the sheets and comforter.

Heart soaring, Zoe dove in beside him. She claimed the spot under his left arm and rested a hand on his warm chest. Their legs entangled. God, it felt good to be with him again.

Perhaps, like her, he was too overwhelmed to speak, which was fine. After a couple weeks apart, lying beside him in silence was good enough for Zoe. Almost like the relief of coming home after a long, unexpected journey.

She drank in Gavin’s cedar scent—no hint of Scarlet or anything else—and wrapped herself around him. His grip on her shoulder loosened, and his breaths settled into long, sleep-soft whispers. She slid out from the covers and stood beside the bed for a moment.

Of all the terrible things they’d been through together, seeing Gavin so broken tonight was the worst. Scarlet had not only ripped their trust apart, but she’d irreparably damaged them both.

Zoe bent and kissed his cheek. With a sigh, he turned his face into hers. She smoothed his stubbly chin. It took every ounce of willpower to back away. But tomorrow the rebuilding of their shattered relationship would begin, and she needed her faculties in working order. She reluctantly headed to the living room for the night.

As she plumped a pillow on the couch, Zoe glanced down the hall to Gavin’s open door. He’d suffered too much.

Never again.

Scarlet would pay for what she’d done to him. With her life.

Chapter Twenty-one

A kiss on the back of the neck and a rumble of thunder roused Gavin from sleep.

He smiled. Zoe.

And rain. Blessed rain.

So welcome after the hell of last night’s Dreaming patrol—increased heat, more Fyre-inflicted terror, and still no sign of the Dreamweaver. At least Zoe’s Water had given him the ammunition refill he needed to stave off a few attacks.

Her warm, lavender-scented body, delicate phrases of whale song, and a raging hard-on accompanied the syncopated droplets pounding the roof. He stretched backward, deeper into Zoe’s embrace. She tightened her grip around his middle.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Her raspy voice set off a chain reaction from his ears to the Water surrounding his heart and onward to its final destination where his cock grinned its ‘G’day’ under the covers.

“Good morning indeed,” he said.

Then reality spanked him on the arse with a high-def recollection of her horrified expression when she peeled back the shower curtain last night.

And of the lie he’d perpetuated by keeping quiet about his deal with Scarlet. He’d had the perfect opportunity to come clean, but he chickened out. Maybe it was fear of losing her again. Maybe it was shame. Or maybe it was because he’d lost his fucking shit, and she’d talked him off the ledge.

Whatever the reason, the deeper he dug this grave of deceit, the deeper the iron maiden spikes would stab when she found out. He rubbed his forehead.

So, make sure she doesn’t find out.

Fuck that. If—no,
when
—he had to make good on his oath, he’d confess to Zoe. Lying about screwing Scarlet was one line he refused to cross, even if it meant never seeing Zoe again.

In the meantime, he had the embarrassment of last night to deal with.

He’d acted like a right fucking girl, breaking down as he had. Yet, Zoe stayed by his side. Held him harder the farther down the spiral he spun. Not many women would be willing to take on that kind of losing-your-shit drama headfirst as she had. Reason number 1,584 he loved Zoe Morgan.

He rolled over and faced her but couldn’t meet her eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.

Her blond-streaked hair splayed over the pillow. No make-up. Didn’t need it. Lids hung heavy over her beautiful blues. Lazy lust? Yeah, the green and red swirls in her aura confirmed it. Why she’d want him after the shower incident remained a mystery.

But his stiffer-by-the-minute woody seemed nonplussed by the memory. No bloody shame.

Fire stoked the coals in his gut. Not again—

Zoe’s aura shifted to blue, and her unexpected, gentle kiss tamed the blaze. Her arms hooked around his neck. Her breath moved slow and steady, blending with his. That small kiss was all it took to dunk thoughts of Scarlet headfirst under the Water.

The Fire sputtered and swore as it flailed for traction within his soul.

How the hell did Zoe do that? He’d barely been able to beat back the Fire burning away at his mind and body ever since he took the oath. In the arms of his muse, he almost felt normal.

He didn’t deserve her.

She caressed his silver-laden ear, which got warmer the longer she stared at him. “How do you feel about cold pizza for breakfast?”

Shit. The pizza. He pressed his forehead to hers. “Sorry for ruining your evening, Zed.”

The pattering rain on the roof increased its tempo.

She grinned and angled her lips against his. Some of her hair fell in between them, but he didn’t mind.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Not only did I get to sleep on Gavin Cassidy’s couch, but I also snuck into his bed and greeted him first thing this morning with a kiss. I can die a happy woman.” Her giggle coaxed a fresh infusion of guilt into the Swiss cheese of his conscience.

He rolled onto his back and tossed an arm above his head on the pillow. “Thanks for staying. It means a lot.”

She scooted closer, flattened a hand across his bare chest, and rested her chin there. So close. So far.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Jesus. Christ.

Water pumped through his chest. He smoothed her hair and cupped her cheek. “Ditto.” To, like, the gazillionth degree.

As they stared at each other in silence for several moments, he hurled the past and future far from his mind and focused on the here and now. Just breathing, feeling the thumps of two heartbeats talking to one another. When he put the extraneous shit aside, life blossomed into a perfect, simple little flower. This time, this place, this moment were all that mattered.

Zoe pushed up and crawled backward off the bed. His tee shirt hung loose from her shoulders. The black fabric clung to her hips, exposing her long legs and tanned feet. He missed them, too.

“I’ll be right back.” She ambled out of the room.

His gaze bit hard into the arse swaying behind her.

Scarlet’s Fire choked free of the Water holding it down and nagged him with a series illicit reminders of them fucking in Sydney: his Fire cutting loose as he banged her from behind, the perfectly timed twists of her hips, the seductive heat that made him high. God, she’d been so wet, like a starved—