~ SASHA ~

"Sash, please, you have to be quiet."

Sasha had known it couldn't be him. That just wasn't possible. But that flash of a face so much like his—heavier, harder than his had been five years ago, but unmistakably familiar—and his tall, muscular build…

But that voice… that voice she knew from those years—the happiest of her life.

Her mind's eye flashed with the face of the Zev of five years ago, his burnished skin glowing in the late afternoon light, his dark hair rumpled and cheeks warm as he leaned over her, taking her mouth so slowly desire had literally sizzled down her spine to light up low in her belly.

But those arms weren't braced on either side of her head anymore, covering her with his strength.

That strength was being used against her as she was dragged from the sidewalk, down a small flight of stairs and into the shadows under one of the front-door staircases.

Her body tingled with remembered heat, but her heart raced with fear.

She'd been reaching into her bag for the small gun she'd recently bought after the stories of the murderer in the city. Some unformed instinct had warned her someone was behind her. But she hadn't heard a thing. She hadn't even have time to turn completely, to gain more than a glance of a tall, wide shadow in her peripheral vision, before a hand clapped over her mouth, while a steel-bar of an arm wrapped around her middle and yanked her off her feet.

Now he was here and whispering her name…

She sucked in through her nose to scream again and began to drum her heels against his legs, when the smell of him hit her nostrils and she froze.

No.

It just couldn't be.

He'd gone very, very still, pulling her deeper into the shadows against the wall when a car pulled into the street above them. But all she could do was breathe and blink, try to convince herself that she was dreaming. That this was impossible.

The thing was, a voice could be mimicked. But no one had smelled like Zev. Ever. Not even close.

In high school, while other boys doused themselves in spicy chemical deodorants and mostly unnecessary aftershaves, Zev had always smelled… real.

His smell had had reminded her of thick grass after a summer rain shower, or walking through a park in late autumn when the ground stayed wet. He smelled like the bark of a tree, or the wind before a storm. And underneath it all there was something just him. Something she couldn't identify, but it made her smile.

But after hearing the honeyed gravel of his voice, when all those scents hit the back of her nose, she froze again, telling herself it was impossible. She'd probably subconsciously caught a whiff of this mugger and her mind had put Zev's face on his body and…

"Zev?" she said, her voice high and broken and muffled by his hand. The lights of the car swept across the building opposite and he pulled her even tighter against his chest and that was when she knew.

It had been something between them from the very first day they'd met—the way she fit against him.

She'd been seventeen and in the lunch line at the high school cafeteria when he came up behind her and asked if he could reach past her for a tray. She'd blushed—he was new and gorgeous. The whole school was whispering about him, and he'd never spoken to her before. She'd mumbled something like, "Sure!" and he'd thanked her, then curled himself over her to stretch one of those long, strong arms for the trays on her other side.

Despite his much greater height and width, his body curved around her, holding her in place—and she molded into him, like two spoons fit together.

She'd stopped breathing for a second and he'd frozen in place. Then his fingers closed on the tray so tight his knuckles went white and he pulled it back, much more slowly than was strictly necessary.

But he didn't step away immediately. And she couldn't move. Couldn't turn around. Like a rabbit under the eyes of a fox, she'd just stood there, heart racing and cheeks heating.

His breath fluttered in her hair, then he murmured, "What's your name?"

"Sasha," she'd whispered.

"Sasha… I'm Zev." That's how she heard his name the first time. She'd nodded, because she didn't trust her voice.

Then one of the guys called him from further ahead in the line and he'd tensed, like he would put his arms around her or… or something. But he just blew out a breath, then stepped away, muttering a thank you.

And she'd stood there, knowing it hadn't been a dream, because the girl behind her in line was gaping at her, with a not entirely flattering look of disbelief at the Adonis that had just… embraced her with his body.

For the next eighteen months it had been a joke between them. He would sneak up behind her—she could never hear him coming when he snuck, which was so frustrating—and he'd slip his arms around her, burying his face in her neck or the hollow of her shoulder. And she'd always lean back into him and just breathe him in for a moment when he couldn't see the goofy bliss on her face.

They fit together like puzzle pieces, and that was exactly how she thought about him: He was the thing she needed to fit in this world. Though she hadn't admitted that to him for a long time. For months she'd been convinced that one day he'd wake up and look at her and wonder to himself what the hell he'd been thinking. But it never happened.

Until it did.

Sasha blinked back to the present, as Zev pressed them both deeper into the shadows and pulled her against his body, and she felt the puzzle pieces snap into place.

Both of them let out a heavy breath as he let her down so her feet found the ground, but he held her there, steadying her to make sure she had her balance… and suddenly they were there again…

She was home. In his arms was home.

She shook her head in disbelief. Zev was here. After five years and no word, no sign of him, he was here. And he was holding her in the dark and breathing in her hair.

She began to tremble, shaking like a leaf from head to toe as, above them on the street level, the car slowly rolled past, its tires hissing on the damp road, taking the glaring light with it.