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The second her boyfriend appears, she lets herself be led away with only the flimsiest glance back at Zaiya. Some friend.
Zaiya is alone.
And men begin to notice.
Their eyes catch on the ribbon around her neck. To ordinary patrons, it’s a necklace. To Serpents, it’s a collar. One that ties her to me. A claim for them to challenge.
One man I recognize from the Order approaches her. Newer blood. Diego, I believe. Foolish enough to cross lines with my Seraph-to-be when he believes anonymity will protect him.
He leans in too close. Zaiya smiles politely, the way she’s been taught to survive. Unaware that he’s one of the masked monsters she fears.
Diego holds out a hand between them, offered like a test. She hesitates, revealing her inexperience before placing her fingers in his. That tiny delay tells him everything. He leads her onto the dance floor, and she follows.
When his hands settle on her hips, her smile wavers.
He adjusts his grip when she fails to object, testing the boundary. Not enough to look aggressive. More than enough to tell me the kind of man he is.
Rage rises beneath my skin with an almost narcotic sweetness. The thought of killing this man for putting his hands on her, for believing the Order will keep him safe, is intoxicating.
Calista reappears at the edge of the crowd with her boyfriend and spots me watching. She steps into my path as she drags him towards the playrooms.
“Leave Zaiya alone,” she snaps. “She’s not built for whatever sick shit you want her for. Let her fuck some random and move on.”
My gaze turns to her slowly.
“I’m sure you, of all people, have her best interests in mind.”
“I’m not the one putting her life at risk. I know what you fuckers like to do. You gonna throw her in a gangbang? She won’t survive.”
The idea is so absurd, so grotesque in its stupidity, that I nearly put my blade to her neck.
“Zaiya is the safest she can be with me. Go back to church with your daddy. And stay out of my way.”
“You don’t—”
I don’t care to hear more. I’m already moving past her.
Across the floor, Zaiya laughs nervously at something Diego said. Then her eyes lift over his shoulder and find me.
Relief floods her face before she can hide it. That look decides everything. It’s time to erase any doubt about who she belongs to.
I move towards her, shoving aside anyone too slow to clear a path.
My hand closes around the back of her neck to guide her away. She startles, breath catching, but the tension that runs through her is threaded with recognition. I pull her back, placing my body between her and the moron who thinks he has a chance.
Diego follows, taking offense as if he doesn’t understand who he’s fucking with.
At the bar, I stop and turn Zaiya to face me. My hand remains at her nape, but I lower my head until my mouth brushes her ear.
“Remember what happens to men who touch you? You want to be the angel of death, Zaiya?”
I feel the moment it lands. Her breath holds. Her body goes rigid.
She turns back to him, voice trembling but clear. “Thank you for the dance, but I need to go now.”
He scoffs and steps closer to me instead, chin tipped up in challenge. “Trying to keep her to yourself, Edwin? I thought the Order was all for sharing.”
My grip tightens at her nape.
