“I do not want one,” Zacharel said.
“Oh, uh, yeah, because the second one was totally for you.”
He smacked his lips as he paid the bill. “Such a little liar, Annabelle.”
A circumspect glance proved he wasn’t angry about that. Shocker. Usually he huffed and puffed. But the heat, whatever it stemmed from, was still banked in his expression.
With the cookies in her hand, they resumed their journey through the shopping center. Five steps in, she had half the first cookie down. Another five and it was gone, no crumbs remaining. Now, this was living!
She nibbled on the second treat, determined to savor every bit of it. She slowed her step and forced Zacharel to keep pace beside her rather than behind her.
“You are treating that thing as if it is a great treasure,” he said.
Well, yeah. Because it was. “You have something against cookies?”
“I couldn’t say, as I have never had one.”
Wait. What? “Never, as in never?”
“Is there another meaning for the word never that I don’t know about?”
Ha, ha. “But that’s criminal!”
“Hardly.”
“But…why haven’t you tasted one?”
“Because I choose to consume only foods that will strengthen me.”
“I’m not sure you realize how ridiculous you sound. But luckily for you, Annabelle Miller is here and on the case, and she’s not going to let you go another minute without knowing the perfection that is chocolate ecstasy.” She stopped, pinched a piece from the edge of what remained of the second confection, and held it up to Zacharel’s lips. “Open up. You’re about to discover the true meaning of delicious.”
The heat intensified, and his lips softened. He would always look like a warrior—with those muscles, how could he not?—but just then he was more of a seducer. The prince from her dream…only, he wasn’t a wretched demon in disguise.
“You are like Eve with her apple,” he said.
“Is that an insult or a compliment?”
“Both.”
“Then I’m only half-offended.” She traced a line of melted chocolate across his lower lip. “Open. Don’t make me command you again.”
He opened.
She set the piece on his tongue, but before she could remove her fingers, he closed his lips around them and sucked. A gasp was pulled from her, all the heat she’d noticed enveloping her, spreading through her, making her quiver.
He didn’t mean anything with this, she knew, and slowly withdrew from him. He had no experience, had no idea what such an action implied.
He ate the cookie and licked his lips, his gaze locked on her. Such pretty lashes, she thought, such a dynamic gaze.
Such a beautiful man.
“You’re right,” he said. His tone gave nothing away. “Delicious.”
Trying for a flippant reply, she said, “Sucks for you that you didn’t order your own,” then popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth.
To her utter shock, he smiled. Smiled! Lips curving up, straight white teeth revealed, dimples out in full glory. Yes, dimples. Awareness burned and blistered, a storm inside her. He was… He was…utterly magnificent.
“I could take the morsel from you right now, just steal it from your mouth. What would you do then, brave little Annabelle?”
She swallowed before she choked. “Be grossed out?” A question when it should have been a declaration.
“Hmph,” he said, his smile disappearing.
For a moment, she felt as though the sun had set, darkness reigned and light could never possibly return. “I didn’t mean I would hate it if you—”
“Forget it. Come, let’s finish your shopping.” He grabbed her hand and urged her forward.
And by urged she meant dragged. “Fine. But only because you’re paying,” she grumbled.
“Don’t worry. You’ll make it up to me.”
“I will? How?”
The gaze he tossed her could only be described as smoldering. “You’ll see.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN.” Zacharel tucked his wings into his back, darting down a narrow, winding tunnel. They’d been flying for what seemed forever, but he at last spotted their destination. Annabelle tightened her grip and buried her face in the hollow of his neck.
Finally, the tunnel ended, opening into a huge crystallized cavern. He flared his wings, slowing his momentum and gently setting Annabelle on the ground. Her knees shook, and for a moment, she clung to him. Then she released him and stepped away so that no part of their bodies touched. Once again he mourned the loss of her—something that caused him to grit his teeth in irritation.
He’d been obsessed with her all day. Every point of contact, every hitch in her breath, every glance she’d cast in his direction had caused the tension inside him to sharpen. Every change in her emotions had confused him. From happy to sad to playful to morose. He’d wanted to tug her into his arms and hold her until all she felt was the happiness. But he hadn’t allowed himself to do that. Every time she had laughed he’d felt his blood seethe to a hotter degree. He would not have been able to content himself with simply holding her.
And when she’d fed him the cookie? When he’d had her fingers in his mouth? He’d had to fight the urge to strip her, strip himself and finally discover why so many humans enjoyed what happened when two people were naked.
One day very soon, he would allow himself to sample her, to learn the curves of her body, and experience that kind of passion. But he would not yearn for more, would not become addicted to a woman who was both mortal and a demon’s consort. He would assuage his curiosity and return to the life he knew—and liked. Wrong of him, perhaps, but this was the only option available to him.
A warrior angel could not keep a human. The brutal war between angels and demons was far too dangerous for such fragile flesh. And the war brewing between angels and the Greeks and Titans? Already he could feel the tension in the air, hear the whispers of a coming revolt. More than that, their life spans were far too different.
“What is this place?” A quiver of distress shook her as she eyed their new surroundings.
Even without looking, he knew what she saw. A rack, with shackles for someone’s wrists and ankles. A bed with black sheets to hide anything that spilled. A wall of instruments he had no desire to ever use.
He could have chosen another cave that belonged to an angel like him, a male who had never before experienced desire. But he’d chosen Thane’s dwelling, where he’d known these things would be, because he’d hoped to disgust and shame himself into abandoning his current path.
But no, he still wanted Annabelle. Wanted to do things to her…
Her eyes frosted over, nearly freezing him in place. He, who had known a cold unlike any other. “What’s your price for staying with me? You said you’d tell me when we reached our new location. Well, we’re here and I can’t say I’m impressed.”
And he never lied, did he. “You are more than ‘not impressed.’ You are disgusted. Yes?”
“Yes.” She waved a hand toward the arsenal before them. “Can you blame me after everything I’ve been through? I can guess what you want to do with me.”
Her response boded ill, and he frowned. Did she find fault with the instruments—or him? “First, I would never use those things on you or ask you to use them on me. Second, I ask only that you willingly give yourself to me.”
For a long while, she merely gaped at him. Then she gave him a once-over and gulped. Then she shook her head violently, that tumble of dark, gorgeous hair slapping at her cheeks. “If you demand my body as payment, then the sex will not be consensual, no matter how compliant I seem to be. I won’t actually be giving myself to you. Rather, you’ll be forcing yourself on me. Just like Fitzpervert!”
Anger burst from his bones, filling every part of him. “I am nothing like him.” If Zacharel was to drown in need for her, he would be damned if he would no
t pull her down with him. “Do you desire me?” he demanded.
She licked her lips, gulped again. “I’m attracted to you, yes.”
That eased the hottest threads of his emotion. “As I am…attracted to you.” Attracted. Such a mild word for the cravings constantly bombarding him. “So what is the problem?”
For a moment her anger far surpassed his own, blazing from her with all the heat of the sun. “I won’t be forced to do anything ever again. I won’t have my hands tied—literally or figuratively.”
He realized his mistake and nearly cursed. He should not have brought her to a place like this, even if it suited his own purposes, and he should not have tried to push the issue. He should have allowed things to progress naturally.
But…lacking as he was in this area, he knew nothing about “naturally.”
“I told you. I am not like the doctor. I am not like other men you have known. Why would I save you only to hurt you? But very well, if you cannot trust me, we will bargain. I told you I knew how.”
That mollified her somewhat. “Very well. I’m listening.”
“I will stay with you for a month,” and far longer, he added silently, if he hadn’t yet assuaged his curiosity. Because just then, he realized he wanted more than once. He wanted all that she had to offer. Wanted to experience everything with her. Only then would he let her go. “If you will vow to kiss me whenever the urge strikes you.” Surely the rest would spring from there.
“But the girl…the one who kissed you without permission…”
“The situation with you is not the same. You have my permission. You have an open invitation.” His tone of voice deepened, became raspier, every syllable layered with his hunger.
“Because you’re attracted to me,” she reiterated brokenly, toying with the ends of her hair.
“Yes.”
“But what if I never want to kiss you?”
“Then you will not.” But she would want to; he would make sure of it.
She looked down, then up at him, down, up. Those expressive eyes revealed a mix of trepidation and hope and…something white-hot. “Yes. I agree to your terms.”
* * *
AGREEING HAD SEEMED LIKE SUCH a good idea, but now, a few hours after their bargain had been struck, Annabelle was ablaze with nervous energy. Would she have the courage to follow through? Wouldn’t she?
It was all she’d been able to think about.
“You look hot,” Zacharel said. He puttered around the kitchen, fixing her a sandwich.
She knew he didn’t mean the word hot as anyone else would have. “I am.” The robe that had fitted itself to her body, becoming a T-shirt and pants, had returned to its shapeless form just before she and Zacharel had flown here, swathing her from neck to toes. “I could use a shower. Alone.”
“A robe cleans its wearer from the inside out. Right now you are cleaner than you have ever been.”
“Oh. That’s cool.” And that response was lame. She had to pull herself together. “I mean, I noticed its cleaning ability when you were injured.” I just didn’t put two and two together.
“Perhaps you should change into your new clothes.”
“I think I will.” Just not the way he probably thought.
He’d set the bags at the entrance. She dug through each one until she found what she wanted. Then, the same way she had stripped out of her leather, with the robe shielding her, she now dressed.
“Unfair,” she thought she heard Zacharel mutter.
Only when her new bra and panties, T-shirt, jeans and boots were in place—and she had successfully cut through the pockets for easy access to the blades still strapped to her legs—did she finally remove the robe.
Zacharel’s gaze roved over her from top to bottom—then back up again. “I approve. And now you will eat.” He carried a plate to the small wooden table, sat down and motioned for her to join him.
“And we will talk,” she said.
“Of course.”
She’d meant to continue their bargaining, but he began to grill her for information—and she couldn’t help but grill him right back. Why a cave? Why the sex toys? The answer to the first: because. The answer to the second: because.
So informative, her angel.
She shifted uncomfortably. Neither of their chairs possessed a back, and while she felt like she would fall backward every time she moved, he was perfectly at ease, the lack of slats allowing him to comfortably position his wings.
“The demon that killed your parents,” he said, motioning for her to take another bite out of the most delicious sandwich she’d ever eaten. Soft, moist and bursting with sweet and spicy flavors. “What did he look like?”
“What if I said ugly, and left it at that?” Two could play the reticent game.
“I would press.”
“Thought so.” She chewed, swallowed, trying not to picture the beast that had haunted her nightmares all these years. With only the slightest quaver in her tone, she described the red eyes, the humanoid face and the vampire fangs. The smooth, crimson skin, the horns that protruded from his spine. The tail that had curled into a metal spike.
All the while Zacharel frowned. See? His default expression.
“That could be any number of demons, but definitely not the one who dictated which demons could and could not enter your institution. Still, we will find Burden, talk to him.”
Burden. What a terrible name. “He’ll be honest with you?”
“With a little persuasion, perhaps. But sometimes you can discern the truth by breaking apart the lie.”
“As long as you’re sure. And just so you know, I can handle danger. Don’t even think about leaving me behind.”
His eyes narrowed, though that failed to hide the green flames sparking to shattering life. “I could absolutely leave you behind, Annabelle, and there’s nothing you could do to stop me.”
“I could hate you,” she seethed. “Well, not hate you, since I now refuse to hate anyone, but I could be very angry with you!”
“And you think that would bother me?” Such a calmly uttered question, as if he didn’t care about the answer.
But he did care, and there was no hiding that fact. Not any longer. He wanted her body, had tried to demand it as payment, and when she’d said no, he’d decided to settle for her kisses.
I don’t have to be nervous about our bargain, she realized, startled, awed. Happy. He was so desperate to have her, he would take anything he could get. Even scraps.
“A little tip for you, Winged Wonder. Don’t threaten the woman you want to seduce.” See Annabelle take control.
He reached out, gently brushed his fingertip along her collarbone. “If it means saving your life, I’ll do more than threaten you. I’ll follow through. Best you realize that now, rather than crying foul later.”
The touch, slight though it had been and even blocked by cotton, electrified her. See Zacharel take control away from her. “I want a man to be my equal, not my boss.”
He flashed his teeth at her, his arm falling heavily to his side. “I will never be your equal. I will always be stronger, faster.”
Better?
Yes, there was that, wasn’t there, she thought, that shot of confidence fizzling completely. The sandwich seemed to compact inside her stomach, becoming a lead ball. “I’m not sure why you’d even want to kiss me. You make me sound like a real prize. Maybe we should just forget our bargain altogether.”
He slammed a fist into the table’s surface. “The bargain remains intact.”
The atypical outburst astounded her, causing her eyes to widen. Must have astounded him, too, because the moment he realized just how much force he’d used, he licked his lips and added smoothly, “Otherwise, I would be allowed to desert you at any moment, would I not? And you do not want that, do you, Annabelle?”
No, because he would be able to return to the heavens. And that was the only reason she decided to capitulate. Really. “Fine. The bargain remains intact. But
the more you talk, the more I dislike you. You know that, right?”
“It shall be my pleasure to remedy it. First, it is not your strength or your speed that draws me. It’s your…everything. Your laugh, your wit, your emotions and the way they change. Your courage, your sweetness, your near obsessive delight for cookies. Second, you are indeed a prize. You’ve made me want what no one else ever has. A communion of bodies.”
Uh, never again would she tell this man he had no idea how to seduce a woman. His words affected her, deeply and inexorably. A communion of bodies. His. Hers. Theirs, as one. Just the thought caused goose bumps to break out over her skin. And there was no more nervousness. None at all. He’d just reminded her that the act was meant to be special, not shameful, between two people meant to be together.
Meant to be? You and Zacharel?
He flattened his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Third. The blond angel, Thane, the one you claimed to like better than me. This is his cave, and those are his tools.” With a tilt of his head, he motioned to the rack that so reminded her of her hospital gurney. “Know that he will use them on you if you turn to him. You will not turn to him.”
Okay, that had sounded like jealousy. And the change in him, from distant and threatening to possessive and needy, was as startling as his fist to the table. She reeled, empowered all the more.
“You are right,” he said, before she could reply. “Talking is doing us no good. Eat.”
Well, darn. Every time she thought she’d gained the upper hand, he had to go and ruin it. “Yes, Daddy,” she grumbled, and popped another piece of bread in her mouth.
That earned her a fiery glare.
As she finished off the food, she watched Zacharel through slitted lids, trying not to be obvious in her study of him. Despite his change in mood, he could have stepped from a painting, so striking was his visage. Would she ever get used to the beauty of him?
After all, his hair would always be black, his skin unwrinkled. He would never change. He would always look this way, while she would age. Ugh. She would age, wouldn’t she?
Wicked Nights aotd-1 Page 15
