Zero to Love (16 page)

“I belong to you, Monroe.”

He thrust his hips once. Twice. “Damn. Right. You. Do.” With a roar, he came. Hot spurts of cum soaked her walls, tipping her over the edge again.

The waves slammed her for several heartbeats. When the burn inside her dissipated, she collapsed in his hold, weak and thirsty and sexually sated.

Tenderly he pulled away, and cradling her, he made his way to the corkscrew stairs. His apartment felt like coming home, but she knew a stab of remorse for sneaking away from Keefe earlier. Her actions had almost gotten all of them killed.

Monroe laid her in bed, then disappeared. A moment later he walked back into the room, still completely nude, carrying a glass and a jug of lemonade he’d thought to stockpile.

She smiled and sat up as he uncapped the bottle and filled the glass. She accepted it from him and downed it in seconds. When she held it out again, he refilled it.

“Who were those other Mindchangers in the…fight?” She let her gaze drop.

He sank to the edge of the bed, placing one warm hand on her bare thigh. “Toliver and Adams. Two of the best to have at our backs.”

“Monroe, I’m sorry.”

He caressed her cheekbone, studying her face intently. “I know.”

She raised a hand to the place between her breasts where her pendant had once hung. “I lost it.”

A crease appeared between his brows. “I—”

A loud banging interrupted him. This time something on his face told her it wasn’t Keefe. A tense line bracketed his mouth. He grabbed black pants and a snug-fitting black T-shirt and yanked them on without bothering to don underwear.

“Stay here.”

“Monroe—”

He started out the door, then jabbed a finger at her. “I mean it.”

The apartment door slammed. From far off she heard the strains of a familiar voice, rising by the minute.

“Elijah,” she whispered. She gulped the rest of the lemonade in her glass and jumped out of bed. She rummaged in Monroe’s drawer and found a black button-down shirt. It hung midthigh and would keep her covered well enough.

Then she strode through the apartment. She opened the door a crack.

“Magda,” came Monroe’s warning tone.

She shut the door as softly as possible, cringing when it sounded like a shot. Keeping her ear glued to the wood, she caught his exchange with her twin.

“I’m coming in and getting her.”

“Like hell.”

Rage shook Elijah’s voice. She’d only ever heard him this out of control once before—during an argument with their uncle a few years ago. When he’d come to her room later and lain with his head in her lap, she’d stroked his hair and asked why he’d fought with Uncle. But he’d shaken his head and refused to speak, saying he just wanted to be near her.

She clamped her fingers into fists as the urge to go to him surged inside her. He was her brother—they’d shared a womb. He was closer to her than anyone in the world.

She stopped. Except Monroe. Now the Mindchanger was her universe.

After cracking the door open again, she stepped onto the landing before Monroe barked, “Magda.”

Ignoring him, she ran down the stairs, navigating them even in complete darkness. In the shop, the lights still burned, and their clothing lay in heaps on the floor. Monroe blocked the door, and Elijah gripped the jamb as if ready to launch himself inside.

She met her brother’s gaze around Monroe’s body. He looked rumpled, tired. His disheveled hair stuck up around his pale face, and dark circles lived under his brown eyes.

“Come with me, Magda. Father and I don’t care that you’ve been with this…thing. Just come with me now, and we’ll forget about it.”

She drifted forward, her bare feet soundless on the concrete floor. Placing a hand on Monroe’s back, she leaned toward Elijah.

“You’re not living with animals anymore.” Elijah’s eyes glittered. With lightning swiftness, he reached past Monroe and wrapped her hair in his fist. Ripped off balance, she fell forward. Tears pricked her eyes at the pain on her scalp.

Monroe’s blow knocked Elijah backward. A handful of her hair clung to his fingers. A number burst behind her eyes. One.

Irate, Monroe followed Elijah into the night. “Don’t come back here. And if you ever lay a hand on her again, I’ll take your life.”

The dark promise was an icy finger on Magda’s spine.

“Magda, do you choose this thing over me? Over our father?”

Tears trailed down her cheeks as she looked at her brother, her scalp still smarting from the pain of losing a chunk of hair. The strands on the ground around him were scattered by a frail breeze that always blew in Helgedom at night.

She moved closer to the door, and Monroe inched aside, allowing her to pass if she chose to do so. But she had no desire to leave him. She felt as if she’d stop breathing if she didn’t see him again.

Monroe glided a finger down the outside of her forearm and lightly squeezed her pinkie. A tenuous hold that might as well have been chains. She stepped back inside.

“I’m not leaving.”

Fury washed over Elijah’s features, and for the first time ever she felt a frisson of worry—that he could be pushed to do something desperate and violent. Her heart pinched, stealing her breath.

She reached toward him, but he twisted from her. “You’re as good as dead, Magda. Why we protected you all these years for this to happen…” He gave her a pleading look that nearly dropped her to her knees. This time when she moved forward, though, Monroe clamped a hand on her shoulder. Confusion sliced through her consciousness, lethal swords of man against Mindchanger. She was caught in the midst. After being hunted and attacked and thirsting, she understood the Mindchangers better.

Monroe’s hold relaxed, but he didn’t remove his hand.

“I can’t go, Elijah. I’m safer here.”

He slashed the air with a hand, eyes wild. “Is that what they’ve made you believe? What you need is your bedroom, Magda. Don’t you miss it? The calm you feel when you lie in bed and stare at your ceiling?”

Monroe stiffened, every muscle coiled as if to fight or flee. Which one, Magda didn’t know. But Elijah’s words created a longing in her, and she pictured herself exactly where he’d painted her with his suggestion—in bed, covered in silk, and in the wreath of light cast by the lamp in her corner.

She shook her head. No. The past few days had been a roller coaster, and half the time she didn’t feel as if she was strapped in. Moments of passion and ecstasy were interspersed with lucid flashes of her former life and bursts of terror.

She’d never felt so alive in her entire life. “I’m staying, Elijah. Let Daddy know that I’m all right.”

Before her brother could respond, Monroe closed the door in his face. Magda turned and walked the length of the room, putting distance between herself and the door.

Pivoting again, she locked gazes with Monroe. He stood in the shadows, a patient animal. Anger and lust clouded the air between them.

He didn’t make a move to come to her, and his eyes held a charge unlike any she’d seen before.

With a shake of his head he said, “I’m not angry with you.”

“Why are they protecting me? Did you see it? Were you able to read his mind?”

Twisting to the side, he refused to meet her gaze again. “Why don’t you go back up to bed? There’s something I need to do.”

“But…” Pain stabbed her deep. Was he trying to get rid of her?

Slowly he emerged from the shadows and crossed to her, his long, bare feet slapping lightly on the floor. “It’s nothing. I just need to do some work. Go to bed, and I’ll be up in a little while.”

She turned toward the stairs, heart throbbing in her temples, the thirst raging until all she could think about was getting to that lemonade.

* * * *

Monroe nudged the tiny screwdriver on the work surface with a forefinger. It rolled in an arc, creating a vibration similar to a hum. His mind shot back to the events of the night.

Magda had heard those frozen Free Wills. Hands plastered to her ears, eyes feral as she pleaded for Monroe to stop the noise. The drone of the Mindchangers.

He shook his head. Remorse was a hot, thick knot in his throat.
I should have left her alone. Never should have looked into her eyes that night in the parking lot
. It went far beyond that, though. He shouldn’t have returned for her again and again. Never should have laid a tongue, finger, or other part on her.

He rolled his eyes up to look at the ceiling. Directly above, Magda sat in a cramped ball on the sofa, wondering what she’d done wrong, which only made him feel like more of a bastard.

Her emotions were a violent storm taking place in a changing body. At times she seemed more vulnerable and fragile than the finest china. Others she sprinted into the midst of the Free Wills, thinking to…what? Protect him with nothing more than her small body.

The question slamming his mind was, what to do with her? About her? For her?

He picked up the screwdriver, formulating plans and tossing some away. The first thing she needed was a thought catcher. He could break into the Brunelli house and take the one from her bedroom, but it would only protect her mind while here in the apartment.

Thinking of her bedroom roused a new interest in Monroe, particularly with the ceiling over her bed.

Gold, cut into compartments. Did she know how close to a hive it was? Mindchangers didn’t use hives anymore, but in the beginning hives had housed them and kept them safe while they evolved alongside man.

The knowledge was a bright star in Elijah’s mind—he knew how it worked and that it calmed her.

Which meant her brother knew what she was. Or had an inkling. Hell, Monroe and Van Es didn’t even know.

The answers lay with Elijah, Giovanni, and Vincent Brunelli. Investigating the three men might yield enough information that Monroe could help her.

Help her what? Transition, perhaps. The juice did that by opening her mind to numbers. Eventually she’d most likely be able to use feelers to drink.

This guess was a long shot. Mindchangers weren’t made—they were born. Except for Magda.

He locked his jaw. Magda would not be drinking from Elise or those women.
She’s mine.

Decision made, he spun toward the back wall of his workshop where small wooden bins housed supplies—screws, nails, washers, and nuts. He spent long minutes sifting through the objects, feeling their numbers sink in as he stroked the metal.

Finally he arranged nine washers on the countertop, all varying sizes. Some were made of nickel, some old ones steel. One was twenty-one-karat gold, and the rest pure silver.

Three, eleven, twenty-three, fifty-nine, one hundred nine…

All prime numbers, divisible by themselves and equaling one.

“One.” He took out his soldering gun and plugged it in to heat. The solder he’d used to bind the washers was pure silver as well. Hopefully all together it would create a thought catcher.

A stray memory from his boyhood assaulted him. Down the block from the house where he’d grown up, in a junk shop window he’d seen a similar item to the thought catcher in Magda’s bedroom.

He drew a long breath through his nose to keep his hand steady while doing the close work, but dammit, why was he just now remembering this information?

It had to be another thought catcher. Who had made those? Had it really been Magda’s mother?

As Monroe built the small pendant that would possibly protect Magda, he let his mind wander. Working soothed him—it had been too long. His list of people he wished to dig into and uncover information on was growing, but they could wait. Tonight he’d hang a new thought catcher on his lover’s neck and rest assured he’d protected her in one small way.

Tomorrow he’d set guards in and around his apartment while he saw to his duties. He hadn’t really learned anything by going to the pit tonight, but the actions of the Free Wills were obvious—whoever they protected was there in their midst.

The bead of metal melted in a perfect circle just as he wanted it. He set the rings in concentric circles, a pattern of numbers only someone like him would understand. Whether or not he was skilled enough to create a thought catcher was another story. In theory it worked. But even a supernatural realized sometimes more was needed—a certain amount of magic.

He ran his fingers over the piece. While simple in design and the most basic of supplies, the hues of the metals would glow against Magda’s skin.

His body surged at the thought of her fine white flesh, of tracing his tongue along a pale vein riding just beneath. Of creating a flush wherever he touched.

As he worked he sensed Magda upstairs. She had exhausted herself of emotion, and the rest of the lemonade had put her into a sort of haze. She rested now, eyes closed, mind drifting in the way only human minds did.

Flashes of her day zipped through her consciousness before deeper thoughts and images flickered to the surface—a rapid slide show. Some humans said they relived something similar just before death.

She slid into sleep, and Monroe breathed a sigh. In a few minutes he’d finish his gift and go upstairs to slip it around her neck. Then he’d curl his body around hers to protect her sleeping mind as well as her precious body.

The flavors of her thoughts still lay on his tongue, as decadent as caviar was to some. Stealing those thoughts back from Treason had been a gut instinct, but it gave him dirty thoughts of doing it again—of luring a Free Will to drink from her, then sucking him clean before ending his life.

But no, he never gave in to his hunger. It was a good thing he couldn’t take from Magda. His need for her bordered on insanity.

Still he’d failed her. In the moment Treason had stolen from her, Monroe had never known such fury. Most of it was directed at himself for starving to the point of weakness.

Keefe, Adams, and Toliver were right—he needed to drink. He wouldn’t go out again and put himself or Magda in such jeopardy. Before he went after her family for answers or tortured the information about the royalty from the Free Wills, he’d feast.

There was only one person he could trust himself to do this with, and since she’d tasted Magda as well, it was almost a perfect circle.