Page 166 of The Last Guardian

Distancing himself from me.

Good. Well, that was what my mind thought. Clearly not my body. No, every inch of me wanted him close.

I concentrated on the swirling brown liquid in my glass and how it danced with the ice. And not on his eyes, his hands. Him.

“Are you going to talk? Or should I wait for you to get drunk enough?” Zaid asked with a soft grin, taking a sip from his own glass.

“I’ll spare you that,” I chuckled, gazing up at him.

“Good.” Zaid smiled, glancing down, his eyes focusing on my neck, on the still visible wounds. His eyes darkened. “Are you still in pain?”

“Not much now. I could barely walk because of the pain before. I⁠—”

“I’m aware,” Zaid said harshly, gazing away, as he sipped from his glass, his hand tightened around it so hard I was pretty sure it would explode at any moment.

“Why didn’t you visit?” The words escaped me before I could even have the thought—and maybe I was making myself seem desperate and ridiculous, but I needed to know.

Zaid was clearly as drawn to me as I was to him, and yet something made it impossible for him to accept that pull between us.

His eyes slowly returned to mine, flickering, his jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as if he was restraining the words threatening to come out. Disbelief crossed his gaze.

At my question? Or at my presence? I wasn’t sure.

“Didn’t feel I needed to.” Zaid gulped his drink in a swift movement and returned to his desk to refill it again.

For a second, my chest tightened at his remark, at his dismissiveness toward me.

I knew he was trying to push me away because he couldn’t keep his distance. But Zaid had not understood that I couldn’t stay away either.

His shoulders tensed as he slowly filled his glass again before facing me, leaning on the edge of his desk. A little further away from me than before.

“But you still feel the need to ask about the pain, though.” I arched a brow, sipping the dark liquid; the sip burned my insides in a sweet motion, provoking a little cough.

Rum. Of course, it was rum.

Tilting his head, he failed to hide the amusement through the gleam in his eyes. To hide the little smile on the corner of his mouth. Zaid asked in a low tone, “Why are you here, Alyana?”

Hells, my name on his lips felt like some praise.

“I finally passed the last Threshold,” I answered, trying my best to reply as smoothly as him. “You asked me to let you know. So, here I am. Letting you know.”

“So eager to see me that you didn’t take time to change?” Zaid arched a brow, gazing at my attire, rolling his tongue on his lip.

“Does that bother you? Maybe I should get rid of⁠—”

“Don’t,” Zaid warned with a groan. His eyes darkened.

A smile curled on my lips. I could play too.

“So stop avoiding the subject, Zaid,” I replied, frowning at him. I stood from the couch, each step measured and deliberate, drawing me closer to him. “Stop acting like you don’t care, because I know you do. Stop trying to stay as far away from me as possible, trying to make me believe…”

Zaid tensed the moment I stopped before him, his chest inches from mine, moving unevenly.

The air shifted between us—thickened.

Zaid stilled, every inch of him tense. His hands reached to the edge of the desk, clinging to it tightly—his knuckles turned white. His gaze fell on mine, unyielding, sharp, yet desperate. As if he were staring at a memory he didn’t dare to touch.

“…trying to make me believe I’m just another face in your life,” I finished. My eyes fell on his lips for a split second before traveling back to his eyes.