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“To get you some food,” he snaps back, his tone brooking no argument. He grabs a sleek black jacket from a nearby hook and tosses it to me. “Put this on.”
He’s angry, but I can’t really pinpoint exactly why. I suspiciously think it’s because I didn’t eat, but that can’t be right.
I catch the leather jacket midair and slip it over my shoulders, the warmth of the fabric enveloping me instantly. His scent clings to the jacket as well, leather and sandalwood, even more potent than before. I try not to dwell on it as my stomach grumbles loudly.
Zane leads the way out of the dojo, his steps purposeful and resolute. I follow behind, trying to keep up with his long strides. The dojo’s quiet hallways feel surreal after the intense training session, guilt gnawing at me for pushing myself so hard. But I need to remember why I did it. The scars on my back from Noah’s beatings are a constant reminder of why I can’t let my guard down.
We step outside into the crisp afternoon air. Zane’s car, a deep gray and sleek like his personality, is parked in front. He opens the passenger door for me, his expression softening for just a moment as our eyes meet. I slide into the seat, feeling an odd sense of security in his presence.
These cushions are so soft and cozy, I wiggle a little.
“What are you doing?” Zane leans down to stare at me, a frown on his pouty lips.
“Nothing,” I say, clearly answering too fast.
With a guttural grunt, he forcefully leans over me and straps me in with rough, hurried movements. I’m too stunned to react, my eyes wide as the realization dawns on me that I am completely at his mercy.
I’m also not mad about it.
Master Zane is an odd paradox, one I can’t and will not allow myself to pick at like a scab, and we all know what happens if you keep picking at a scab.
It scars.
I keep my mouth shut, reinforcing the distance between us, as he drives through town.
I wonder if he’d drive me home afterward. No. Probably best to take public transport.
Zane’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white. The air in the car is heavy and suffocating, charged with unspoken words and suppressed emotions that threaten to spill over at any moment. The tension reminds me of the suffocating control Noah once had over me. I can’t afford to let anyone have that kind of power over me again.
We drive through town in tense silence, our unsaid thoughts weighing heavily on us both.
“So,” I drawl as I shuffle. He isn’t wearing his uniform anymore, and he threw a hoodie on as we walked out, so of course I’m now looking for bond marks.
I glance at Zane out of the corner of my eye, noticing the tense set of his jaw and the furrow between his brows. He seems to be deep in thought, though about what, I can’t tell. I know I should leave him be, but the silence is too much.
I don’t like silence very much.
“So…thanks for the clothes and the ride,” I say tentatively. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Zane’s grip loosens on the wheel just a fraction as he glances at me briefly. “Of course I did. Couldn’t have you catching pneumonia on my watch, now could I?”
His voice holds a teasing lilt, even as his expression remains serious. I feel myself relaxing a bit.
“Still, it was thoughtful of you.”
He simply hums in response, his eyes focused on the road ahead. We lapse back into silence, but it feels less strained now.
“Where are we heading?” My stomach grumbles, and I swear I see him frown even more.
I wonder if he ever smiles. Is he ticklish? Best to keep my hands to myself.
Zane glances at me before returning his gaze to the road. “There’s a diner not far from here that I like to go to. They have good comfort food.”
My stomach rumbles again at the thought of warm, hearty food, and I realize I’m famished after the intense training session earlier.
“Comfort food sounds perfect right now,” I say with a small smile.
Zane nods, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you might need something substantial after today.”
