Zephyr's pulse throbbed loudly in his ears. He took a step backwards feeling the familiar smooth wooden door into his home.
He stood there for minutes listening for the sound of Michael’s footsteps or jarring claws, but there was nothing. His fingers were trembling. Every second was a temptation to take the blindfold off, but he stood still.
Jason will be here any second. Zephyr told himself. But the silence stretched on. His fingers trembled against the wooden door, the weight of the illusion still clinging to his skin. Then, a hand clamped down on his shoulders.
“Zephyr,” The familiar baritone voice echoed sharply.
Jason. Zephyr loosed the strap as fast as he could, and fastened gaze on the steady brown eyes, and eyebrows locked together in a frown.
His heartbeat persisted, thumping
