6
Helen
Quinn leaned against the wall, arms crossed. The bed loomed large between us. Untouched. He was on the other side of the room, nowhere near me, for while we’d intentionally riled Zee, hopefully to the breaking point, he’d said he didn’t want to get hurt. Or die.
I knew Zee was a possessive mate and when the door flew open, slamming against the wall and bouncing off, I knew Quinn’s measures for personal safety were reasonable.
Zee was all but resonating with anger. His muscles were taut with it, his square jaw clenched. His breathing was ragged, his fists clenched. Handsome in his anger. And the knowledge that I’d made him this way made me feel so powerful.
His head swiveled from Quinn to me. His eyes, so dark, burned with intensity.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I wante
