Four-Letter Words Evans, Gabrielle (best detective novels of all time .TXT) 📖

Kieran stroked Lynk’s hair absently, and his brow furrowed to form a shallow V. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll make sure they’re here tomorrow night.”

“A larger coven comes with larger enemies and more people to defend.” Bracing his hands on the arms of his chair, October levered himself out of his seat. “However, I can loan three of my men to Haven temporarily.”

Once all the small details were settled, everyone began filing out of the room, talking in low voices about their to-do lists and what affairs they needed to get in order before they left. Thane rose to follow Zasha out of the office, but he made it only a couple of steps before Torren called him back.

“Thane, could I have a word?”

A twinge of guilt made him wince because he was actually grateful for a reason to postpone the argument he knew was coming once he and Zasha were alone. “What’s up?”

“A couple of things, but first, what the hell is going on with you and Zasha?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that everything was fine and leave it at that. Things weren’t fine, though, and he could use some advice. “He’s getting his memories back, but he doesn’t know they’re memories. Does that make sense?”

“You claimed him?”

Thane shrugged at his brother’s arched eyebrow. “Yes, but that’s really not the point. He thinks he’s going crazy. These memories just kind of warp around whatever he’s doing at the moment, so he can’t distinguish what’s reality and what isn’t. I don’t know how to help him.”

“Have you explained about your shared souls and told him who you really are?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he believes me.” It was a stressful situation, and they were both on edge. Everything would work itself out, though. He and Zasha were meant to be together. Fate had deemed it so, and Thane trusted that mystical design.

“Thane, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Zasha is not the same person you knew and loved however many years ago. Sure, he’s your Infinity. Soon, all of those memories will make sense to him. Even when he remembers, though, that won’t change who he is now.” Torren rounded the desk and propped one hip against the gleaming wood. “Are you the same person you were before?”

“Well, yeah, for the most part.” The memories began to surface at the age of twenty-one—his age at the time he’d been cursed—and he could recall all three of his former lives. For the most part, he couldn’t see that he’d changed very much from one reincarnation to the next. Maybe Torren had a point, though. “Do you really think that’s it?”

“You tell me. Is he the same person?”

Thane was damned ashamed of himself to admit that was exactly the case. There were pieces of Zasha’s personality that were the same, but a larger part of him was foreign, a mystery to unravel.

Where the Zasha he’d once known had been almost reckless in his desire to give, this new Zasha was cautious, wary, and slow to trust. He was also organized, obsessed about the smallest details, and a little bit of a control freak. In his past life, however, he’d been the epitome of disorganization, always running late, and the poor guy had possessed the memory of a gnat.

“I get it.” There were many other differences, some subtle and some so obvious they should have clubbed him over the head. So intent on recapturing what he’d lost, Thane had chosen to ignore all of those signs, hoping the old Zasha would resurface with the emergence of his lost memories.

“Good.” Torren’s eyes narrowed at the corners, and he stood tall with his hands resting on his hips, presenting a rather imposing sight. “Now fix it. We can’t afford distractions, Thane.” His posture relaxed, and he resumed leaning against the desk. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Zasha.”

“You want to know about your mate and that coven in the mountains.” Thane had been expecting the question, and he was actually shocked it had taken Torren so long to ask him. “Yeah, I’m the one who dragged him out of Purgatory.”

Most of the time he’d spent with that coven was a huge blur, one event melting into the next. One of the few clear memories he had was of Torren’s mate, Aslan, chained to a wall, his head hanging limply on his shoulders while blood seeped from a wound in his neck. Of course, at the time, he hadn’t known the guy’s name, and he couldn’t have guessed he would turn out to be the Infinity of a Braddock.

Thane just knew that the sight broke his heart. While his magic wasn’t good for much else because of all the sedatives his captors gave him, he could do something to help. It had taken longer than he’d have liked to channel his remaining energy, but it had been well worth the trouble. He still remembered the sense of relief that flooded him when he’d found Aslan in that cold, desolate land.

“They moved me before he woke up, and it wasn’t ideal conditions for an introduction. I’m just glad he made it out alive.”

“Me, too,” Torren whispered, his voice tight with restrained emotion. Then he sniffed twice and coughed to clear his throat. “Well, he wants to thank you, but he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up.”

“I appreciate his concern, but it’s not necessary.” He really wished people would stop thinking they needed to handle him so carefully. “He can thank me if he wants, but that’s not necessary, either. Like I said, I’m just glad he’s okay.”

“I’ll let him know.”

Thinking the conversation was over, Thane dipped his head and turned to leave the room. He made it to the door this time before Torren called him back again.

“Thane?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without