Deep down, did he look at us as if we were stuck with one another, even though he hadn’t hesitated when he’d been offered the bond? Wasn’t that what had happened with Misha? Besides the fact that we never should’ve been bonded, I had sensed a growing unrest in him, but I’d been so wrapped up in myself that I hadn’t paid attention.

Not until it was too late.

Zayne had learned that my mother was supposed to have brought me to his father, and because she hadn’t done that, his father thought Zayne was supposed to take in Layla, somehow mistaking me, a Trueborn who rocked a whole lot of angelic blood, for a half demon, half Warden.

Which was kind of a big oops.

I had no idea how Zayne felt about any of that. Or if it mattered to him that it should’ve been me he’d grown up with.

I picked up the bun and removed the thick tomato slice as I opened my mouth to speak. But I made the mistake of actually looking at his carton of food. He’d gotten a grilled-chicken sandwich. My lip curled, because it looked about as appetizing as an unseasoned chicken breast could look. While I smacked my bun back onto my burger, Zayne took his top bun off.

“You’re a monster,” I whispered.

Zayne chuckled. “You going to eat that?” He pointed to the tomato that I had gotten rid of. I shook my head. “Of course not. You don’t like vegetables or water.”

“Not true. I like onions and pickles.”

“Only if they’re on hamburgers.” He carried his box of food around the island and dropped onto the stool beside me, plucked up the tomato, then plopped it on his poor grilled-chicken sandwich. “Eat, and then I’ll show you what I got when I met with Nic.”

We ate side by side, exchanging napkins, and there was no urge to fill the silence with idle words. There was an intimacy in it that was quite surprising. When we were finished, I volunteered for cleanup, since he’d gotten the food and I’d done nothing but sleep. Once I’d finished wiping down the island, I returned to the stool beside Zayne.

“Before we look at what you got, I have a favor to ask.” I took a shallow breath.

“Done,” he replied.

My brows lifted. “I haven’t told you what the favor is.”

He lifted one large shoulder in a shrug. “Whatever it is, you got it.”

I stared at him. “What if I was asking for you to trade in your vintage Impala for a minivan from the ’80s?”

Zayne looked over at me, his brows furrowed. “That would be a seriously weird request.”

“Exactly, and you just agreed to it!”

His head tilted. “You’re weird, Trin, but I don’t think you’re that weird.”