“Any of it,” Devan snapped. “Gods, how dense are you?”
Zio didn’t have an answer that wasn’t a sickening rumble from his empty stomach.
Devan shook his head and showed Zio his back. “Go and rest. I’ll bring you some food when it’s ready.”
His tone was final. Zio wore belligerence like a second skin, but something—everything—about Devan’s stance warned him to back off.
He retreated to his room, leaving the door open enough that Devan would know to come in if he wanted to, but not enough that Zio would see him if he walked past.
Zio stripped his clothes and crawled into bed. The sheets smelt faintly of Emma—as she’d likely washed them last—but for once, it didn’t hurt to smell her. In a world which had become all about scents and urges he didn’t understand, her distant familiarity was an embrace he needed more than Varian’s.
There was a TV in Zio’s room. He switched it on for company and lay down. Sleep hovered at the edge of his consciousness, taunting him with sweet oblivion, but as he listened to Devan move around the kitchen, closing his eyes felt like sacrilege.
So he didn’t. He lay awake with scratchy eyes and a restless mind until Devan appeared with a plate of food and a bottle of beer.
Devan handed Zio the food without comment and turned to leave.
Zio’s healed arm shot out to stop him. “Wait.”
“What for?”
“I don’t want to eat alone. Come sit with me.”
“In your bed?”
“Onmy bed. Please?”
Devan sighed and walked away without answering. Zio held his breath. His shifter hearing was sharp, but Devan seemed to have feet that made no sound, so he couldn’t tell if Devan would return until he reappeared a few moments later, clutching a plate and second beer bottle. “This is a bad idea.”
Zio scooted over to make room. “Why?”
“Because I’m trying to stay away from you.”
“How does marching me home from Varian’s help with that?”
“I didn’t say I was doing a good job of it.”
Zio took a bite of his pizza and watched Devan do the same. “When did you last eat?”
“What do you care?”
It was on the tip of Zio’s tongue to claim that he didn’t, but it simply wasn’t true. Devan had been in his life for a matter of days, but the imprint he’d left on Zio was bat-shit insane. He did care about Devan, even if he didn’t have the first clue why.
He’s pack, remember?
But... no. It was more than that. It had to be.
Pizza disappeared. Beer too. And a comfortable, and yet somehow awkward, silence settled over them. Sleep once again threatened Zio’s consciousness, but as he slid down the bed, his nakedness in such close proximity to Devan made his skin jump.
Devan closed his eyes and banged his head on the bed frame. “Stop it.”
“What?”
“Whatever you’re thinking. I can smell it, and even if I couldn’t, I healed you, remember? I can feel what you’re feeling.”
“You don’t feel it yourself?”
“That’s beside the point.”