Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark)

by Gena Showalter

  Because both men were warriors to their cores? Because physical pain mattered little to them, since they’d endured so much already? Because losing something they prized, as Koldo must have prized his beaded locks, was far worse than any wound?

  And yes, she knew he’d prized those locks. The intricacy of the beadwork revealed the time and attention he’d given to every strand.

  “I have only known him three months, but the first thing I learned about him was his love for his hair. In all his centuries, he had never cut it,” Zacharel said, sadness coating the edges of his tone. “Not even a trim. I do not know why, but from what the Deity told me about him, I suspect it has something to do with his father.”

  So many questions skittered through her mind. “His father? So angels are born?”

  “Some of the Deity’s angels were…are born, yes, but some were created fully formed and given to him by the Most High.”

  “Which were you?”

  “Born.” He tenderly lifted Koldo into his arms. Every step careful, measured, he carried the massive beast to the bed and laid him facedown. “His hair will never grow back, you know.”

  “But why?”

  “A sacrifice was made and accepted. If his hair could grow back, his sacrifice would have meant nothing.”

  And I asked him to do this. Guilt settled heavily on her shoulders, nearly drilling her to her knees. “You’re sure?”

  “Not entirely, no, but I know the Council. That is how they operate.”

  Well, then. “I’ll take that to mean there’s a chance his hair will grow back. Now, he told me not to give him any of the…water,” she said, “but surely it would help him. Ease his pain.”

  “Drinking now would destroy him in the worst possible way, for we are not allowed to heal ourselves with the Water of Life when the wounds we received were to obtain that water. Other angels are even forbidden to aid in any way during the healing process.”

  Poor Koldo. “He’s an angel?”

  “Yes. He lost his wings long ago.”

  “And now he’s lost his hair.” Tears welled in her eyes. No wonder Zacharel had no desire to touch her. She was a menace, ruining the lives of all around her. Always had been.

  Sighing, Zacharel trailed his fingers over that bleeding scalp. Koldo’s head hadn’t been shaved, she realized upon closer inspection, but ripped clean. “He will hate you if you pity him,” he said. A warning for both of them?

  Koldo had said something similar about Zacharel. If the two weren’t careful, pride would cause them to miss out on the best kind of coddling. “No, he won’t, because he’ll never know. If you can get us out of here, I mean. I can’t stay. I’ve been here so long already, and the demons…” Koldo wasn’t in any condition to fight them now.

  “Will eventually find you, and it would be best if they did not find Koldo’s secret hideout,” he finished for her.

  “Exactly.”

  “No matter how strong your draw is for the demons, they should not have found you in my cloud. Should not have come for you.”

  “What exactly draws them?” At the institution, he’d mentioned hatred, lying and the urge to commit violence, but she’d done her best to focus only on good things.

  “What I told you before is still true,” he said, as though reading her mind, “but you are a special case. Your body carries the essentia of the demon who marked you, and that essentia radiates from you.”

  She blinked in surprise. Such a simple answer, yet totally life changing. There was nothing she could do to stop radiating an essence she couldn’t even feel. “How did he mark me?”

  Zacharel stalked to the dresser and dug through the drawers, finally pulling out a robe.

  Urgency bombarded her, and she barely stopped herself from gripping his shoulders and shaking him. “Tell me! He kissed me and he licked me, but I had to have come into contact with him before that because the change in my eyes happened before that, and as you once so sweetly told me, my eyes belong to a demon.”

  He said nothing.

  She continued. “The morning of his attack, my eyes felt as if they’d been scrubbed raw and bleached. And after that, my parents… That first demon…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t understand why he came. It was my birthday, and I’d just had the most amazing dream. It should have been a perfect day.”

  Zacharel stiffened. “Dream?”

  “Yes.”

  “You remember it?”

  “Of course. I’ve relived it a thousand times.” She’d hoped to figure out what was wrong with it. At first, she’d loved it. But the more the scene had played through her mind, the more she’d realized something had been…off.

  “Tell me.”

  “A smoking-hot Prince Charming saved me from fire-breathing dragons and asked me if I was willing to help him. I said yes. He said I love you and want to be with you and I said how sweet, and he said will you be my woman, and I said yes, and he said then we are one. Then I woke up in the most agonizing pain.”

  Zacharel ran his tongue over his teeth. “The prince was the demon, and he tricked you into agreeing to his claiming.”

  “Uh, no. It was just a dream.” A dream that had stuck with her for years…

  “No, you only thought it was a dream. He manipulated your mind, vulnerable as it was in sleep. When he asked you to be his woman, and you agreed, you became his slave.”

  “But that’s… I didn’t mean…would never… They can do that to people?” she squeaked.

  “If a human allows it, yes.”

  “But…how could I have known what was happening?”

  “You could have, if you had been trained to distinguish the truth from the lie.” When he stood in front of her, he tugged the robe over her head. “To keep you clean and warm.”

  The material bagged on her, draping her arms and pooling at her feet.

  “Do you wish to remove the leather?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Since the robe shielded her body, she was able to contort this way and that to extract herself from the dirty, chafing clothing.

  When she finished, she realized her skin was tingling and her cells fizzing, as though hundreds of butterflies were giving her a sponge bath. It was the strangest feeling, and she wasn’t sure if the robe or Zacharel’s nearness was responsible.

  He lifted her hair from the collar, his fingertips brushing her nape, making her shiver. His nearness. Definitely his nearness.

  He didn’t jerk away, as she expected, but lingered, saying, “Soft.”

  Well, what do you know, she thought. He wasn’t as opposed to touching her, after all. “Why did you avoid coming into contact with me before?” she asked, veering away from the subject of demons. Right now, her mind needed a break. “And don’t try to say it wasn’t deliberate. You basically contorted your body to maintain distance, a move I invented to establish boundaries with other patients.”

  “I lose track of everything important when you’re near me,” he grumbled.

  Everything important, he’d said. Meaning, she was not. Nice. “Such a romantic,” she muttered, slapping his hand away. “You’re lucky I’m not one of those girls who burst into tears at every little insult.”

  “That was not an insult.” He frowned, and while she knew he hadn’t meant for his expression to pulse with sensuality, his lack of chill caused just that, an erotic throb inside her, where want blended with need. “And I am not trying to romance you.”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  Frown deepening, he stepped away from her, at last ending the contact. “Do you want me to romance you?”

  Yes. “No.” You’re not very fond of men right now, remember? Not even sexy angel men.

  “Then as we were saying.” Zacharel cleared his throat, and even that was steeped with his innate sensuality. “We must kill the demon who made that claim on you.”

  Demons again. The break was over.

  “When you agreed to be his slave,” he continued, “you gave him permission to
do whatever he wanted with you. However, when he dies the marking will fade and the others, the weaker minions, will lose interest in you.”

  “So…the hunted must become the hunter?”

  “Exactly. If we do not do this, you will never find peace.”

  Wait. “You said we.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re willing to help me?” He’d promised to train her, yeah, but this was more than training. This was dedication to a cause that was not truly his own.

  “Yes,” he repeated.

  Gratitude nearly overwhelmed her. “I owe you, not the other way around. Why would you—” She pressed her lips together. If she continued along this line, she might talk him out of helping her. “Thank you. Just…thank you.”

  “You are welcome. Once you are free of the demon’s essentia, you can live a long, happy life on your own. I am not saying there will never be another storm; those are simply a part of life. But you will never again experience thunder and lightning like this.”

  With his words, the answer to her unfinished question slid into place. Zacharel wanted to be free of her. That hurt, but she wouldn’t complain. Aid was aid, no matter the reason behind it.

  “I know you’re going above and beyond duty already, but I need something besides assistance from you,” she said, peering down at her feet. “Will you…well, uh, will you spend the next month with me…away from the heavens unless you have a battle to fight? Without asking me why?”

  A pause.

  A really long pause.

  She glanced up.

  Fury and pleasure blazed in Zacharel’s eyes.

  Why the fury? For that matter, why the pleasure?

  Doesn’t matter.

  “Please,” she said.

  “I will not ask why you want me out of the heavens. There is no need. I know the way of the angels, and I can guess. I want to know if you negotiated,” he said sharply.

  “Negotiated what?” she asked, going for innocence. But wait. Something she’d learned from both Zacharel and Koldo was that when you didn’t want to answer a question and evasion wouldn’t work, you had to make a demand of your own. “Never mind. You will spend the next month with me.”

  “Or what?” In a heartbeat he was in front of her, his hand once again wrapped around her nape. He tugged her closer, not giving her time to protest or resist.

  “Or…uh…I can’t even speak it, it’s so terrible!”

  “A falsehood. You’ll do nothing, that’s what. But, very well. I’ll give you an answer anyway—and I will give you a month of my time.” He said the words silkily, indulgence coated with cold determination in his voice. “For a price. You see, I know how to negotiate.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I WILL HAVE THIS WOMAN, Zacharel thought. If only once, I will have her. I will finally know her taste, and never again will I have to wonder.

  When Annabelle’s body stood flush against his, he enfolded her with his wings, forcing her ever closer. His newly healed skin and tendons protested the movement, shooting out little aches and pains, but that didn’t stop him. Nothing would.

  “What’s your price?” she asked softly. The sweet scent of her drifted to his nose, filled his lungs, branded him.

  Your kiss. Your surrender. But did he say the words aloud? No.

  He wanted to know what kind of bargain she had made with Koldo—a bargain that required her to stay with Zacharel for a month. A bargain that had provided her with the Water of Life. He also wanted to know why Koldo wanted him out of the heavens for so long.

  But again, he held his silence. He liked the outcome, so he would not press Annabelle for answers she wasn’t yet ready to give. Not yet, at least. Those would come; he would make sure of it.

  Yes, I will have her. Despite his anticipation for the deed, however, anger coiled inside his bones. He still didn’t want to want her, and he blamed her for reducing him to this…a man willing to forget his duty and forgo his honor simply to learn a woman’s taste.

  “We will discuss the terms once we reach our new location,” he said more harshly than he’d intended. “The longer we stay here, the more danger my warrior faces.”

  She studied his features for a moment, searching for…what? “All right. We’ll shelve our little negotiation.” Reaching up, she linked her fingers behind his neck.

  Always she surprised him. When he expected her to protest, she caved. When he expected her to cave, she fought him. When he expected—

  —thoughts derailing…realigning… She was even closer to him now, as if they were two halves of a whole. The very idea heated his blood, making his insides burn and his skin sweat.

  Zacharel.

  The male voice echoed through his mind, neither a memory nor springing from his own mind. Thane? he asked, instantly concerned.

  Yes.

  You are well? And the others?

  We were not attacked, but we did engage the demons chasing you.

  Good. Did you leave one alive?

  After the slightest hesitation, he heard, Yes.

  As if Zacharel would protest the coming torture, when that was exactly why the demon still lived. Find out who sent the minions. They came to steal Annabelle.

  How is she?

  Well. But the only way to keep her safe is to hide her. Therefore, I will be hiding with her. Contact me when you have an answer. And, Thane, he added before the soldier ended the connection. Check on Koldo when you have the chance.

  Why? What’s wrong?

  “Zacharel?” Annabelle said. “I don’t mean to criticize, but you’re just standing there, staring at me.”

  “Not you, but I need a moment,” he replied, but the distraction had severed the link. He tried to open it back up, failed. “Moment over.”

  “All right.” Though she radiated confusion, she said, “So, um, again, how do you propose we leave this place?”

  Concentrating on her, he said, “The same way we left the institution. My question is, will you enjoy this ride as much?”

  He misted both their bodies and flew her through the ceiling, then layer after layer of stone-laden dirt. He hated leaving Koldo, but already he’d skirted the edge of acceptable by placing the warrior on the bed.

  Whatever his reasons, Koldo—a warrior given to him because he’d beaten his last commander into bloody pulp—had helped him and thereby Annabelle. Zacharel hadn’t thought to ever come to admire the men and women under his leadership, but he couldn’t deny the fissures in his chest were expanding, making room for more than just Annabelle and desire.

  They rose above the surface of grass and flowers, towering trees, and into a midmorning sky, the sun half-hidden behind a thick shield of clouds. Birds flew in every direction, their calls shrill yet welcome.

  “I’ll never get used to the beauty,” Annabelle gasped, awe and wonder heavy in her tone.

  Yes, she was enjoying this ride as much as the other. How would she react to other things free women could do? Things like shopping, and dancing, and dating.

  “Don’t you think it’s beautiful?” she asked.

  “I once believed it was, yes, and assumed the beauty would never wilt.”

  “We were born into this amazing world, Zacharel. We are meant to protect this land and its people.”

  “All I see is the blood of our parents, sprayed over the grass and oceans.”

  “They died fighting demons.” Unable to recover from the extensiveness of their wounds. “There is no greater honor than that. How many times have you said those very words to me? So why can you not focus on the purity and innocence shining at us and forget the taint of the past?”

  Neither he nor his brother had known the events that would unfold mere weeks after that conversation. Hadrenial’s capture, torture, and after a year of searching, Zacharel’s “rescue” of him. No longer had Hadrenial thought the world a place of splendor and glory to bask in. He’d seen the ugliness, had walked hand in hand with the evil, and he had begun to fear and hate.
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br />   “Are you okay?” Annabelle asked. “You tensed up.”

  For once, Zacharel wanted to lie. To give voice to the thoughts swimming in his head…would he also erupt? Or worse, cry? He’d told Annabelle about his brother’s death, but not about his reasons for rendering that final blow. If he did, would she erupt and cry? Feminine tears were not something he could handle right now.