Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark)

by Gena Showalter

  “—said he would give my arm back to me if I delivered proof I told you his message.”

  “Did he, now?”

  “Oh, yes. Will you give me proof?”

  Unforgiveness motioned one of the many demons behind his throne. The male came forward—and beheaded the one-armed minion.

  The spectators chortled.

  Unforgiveness held up a hand for silence. “The day I have been waiting for has finally arrived. The battle has truly begun.”

  Koldo looked around, cataloging the details. There were over two hundred demons in this room alone. No telling how many others the high lord commanded. No, he could not take on this army all by his lonesome. Not in this condition.

  There were several columns scattered throughout, each with a human spirit chained in front.

  Spirits were corporeal here, and therefore subject to the laws of the realm’s nature. Blood dripped from each unconscious person.

  They weren’t dead, he knew that much. When a spirit was killed, it withered away—only to reanimate a few days later, still trapped in this pitted, fiery realm of pain.

  Koldo wished he could help, and that was one of the main reasons angels were never allowed here. They wanted to help, but couldn’t, and the guilt would stay with them forevermore. Koldo forced himself to look away from the bodies. But not before he caught a glimpse of… Surely not… That couldn’t be… He stalked to the only column on the dais.

  It was.

  Jamila’s dark hair hung in tangles and mostly concealed her face. She was cut and bruised from head to toe, soaked in blood, her wings gone, but she was alive, her chest rising, falling, rising. But…

  She had died. Hadn’t she? Or had that, too, been a trick?

  Her eyes were closed, her breath more of a wheeze than anything. Death waited for her even now, ready to sink past her skin and consume her at any moment.

  “Well, well.” Unforgiveness breathed deeply, as if he savored something sweet. The creature pushed to his feet. Everyone in the room quieted. “I smell you, angel. I know you’re here.”

  Every soldier in the demon’s army tensed, readying for combat.

  Out of habit, Koldo nearly created a sword of fire. Steady. He can’t know where you are. But those crimson eyes were locked on him, as though observing his every move.

  “We’ve killed her, you know. Over and over again we’ve killed your female only to revive her before it was too late.”

  Steady. Responding would verify his presence and reveal his location, even though Unforgiveness already seemed to know where he was, and that would be a mistake. The creature might sense him, but he couldn’t see him. This was a trick, and if he appeared, the other demons would see him, too.

  “You are Koldo, yes?”

  He pressed his lips together, barely managing to cut off his angry response.

  Unforgiveness walked a step closer, stilled. “No need to confirm. You are. I’ve studied Zacharel’s new army at length. Why else do you think I sent so many minions to earth? Some were to fight, but some were to watch and report back. You, Koldo, are the only member who can flash. You are the only one with the ability to follow a demon into hell.”

  Koldo ground his teeth together.

  “Oh, yes, I know all about you, just as I knew you would be the one to find your way down here, hoping for answers. I have to admit, I’m glad I was right.” Unforgiveness motioned to another demon, the one standing directly behind his throne. “Bring her.”

  Happy footsteps clomped away, leaving an awful silence in their wake. And when the minion returned a short while later, he was dragging a struggling angel behind him.

  Koldo’s angel. The one he had searched for…the one he wanted to kill more than he wanted to live. Shock and fury became a toxic poison in his blood.

  “Ah, I sense my little welcoming gift is not in vain. You’ve been tracking her, yes?” Unforgiveness asked.

  At his sides, his hands fisted. She was just as he remembered. Beautiful in the cruelest of ways, for she looked as innocent and sweet as a woman could, and yet she had the blackest of hearts hidden beneath. Her hair was as long and as dark as his, though hers was woven with streaks of gold. Her eyes…such a pretty shade of lavender. A smattering of freckles around her nose, the only flaws in her pale-as-cream skin.

  Yes. His mother was indeed beautiful.

  So badly he wanted to close the distance, grab her and disappear. But she was chained to the demon, and Koldo would have to take them both. The demon could kill her on the way home, and Koldo wouldn’t be able to stop him.

  “I’ll bargain with you,” Unforgiveness said smoothly. “You’ll do what I tell you, and in return, I’ll give you the two female angels. This one and Jamila. If you decide to defy me, I’ll kill the pair here and now and ensure neither can be brought back.”

  The minion forced the angel to her knees. Koldo peered at her, but she kept her gaze on his feet. Did she have any idea the things he planned to do to her?

  He looked back at Jamila. Her eyes were now open, dulled, but filled with hope and regret. Her mouth opened and closed, as if she had something to say but couldn’t quite get the words out. Or maybe she feared she would cry out and beg.

  “Listen carefully, warrior.” Unforgiveness outlined what he wanted Koldo to do, leaving no detail to chance. “You have one day to make this happen. One day. Not enough time to plan anything on your own, but just enough time to do what I desire. After that, I kill the females. And do not think you can swoop in with more soldiers and save them. Those soldiers would have to enter through the gate, and my spies would alert me. Do not think to sneak back in yourself, for I would sense you. Do not think to warn Zacharel, for you will now be traveling with my minion. Ditch the minion, and the females die.”

  Lead settled inside Koldo’s stomach as each of his options was systematically ripped away.

  “You see, I’ve thought of everything.” Once again Unforgiveness was grinning. “Do we have a deal or not?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ZACHAREL SNUGGLED ANNABELLE close. Finally her human form was returning. But then, he’d done much to calm her down, flying her to the stars, as close as he could get her without allowing the atmosphere to freeze her, caressing her arms, her belly, kissing the curve of her neck. When she trembled at the beauty of both, he changed direction and took her to a beach to watch the sunrise and bask in the warmth, still caressing her, still kissing her.

  During the first hour, she was withdrawn. During the second, she was stiff as a board. Through it all, she was quiet. He’d gotten used to the way she spoke her mind. He missed that, and wanted it back.

  Now they were inside another hotel room, lying on the bed, simply breathing each other in. He’d live in rented rooms if necessary, anything to keep her safe and happy This one was bigger than any of the others, cleaner, nicer.

  “Sweetheart,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  Finally, a word from her.

  “You know I desire you, whatever your form.”

  “I… Yes.”

  “Do you remember when I told you that I wanted to do everything with you?”

  Another yes, though this one was barely a whisper.

  “That hasn’t changed. I will. Starting now.”

  Her eyes flared with shock. “But we’ve already done everything! And you really want me? Now?”

  She did not know, after all. “Now. And always.”

  His determined assurance gave her pause. “But I’m…hideous.”

  Patches of demon scales still remained, yes. “You are lovely no matter your outward appearance, and some things need to be repeated.” Proving that had been the point of tonight’s excursion, and it was clearly time to step up his efforts.

  “How can you say I’m lovely? You hate demons as much as I do.”

  “You are not a demon.” He stood, tugging her to her feet beside him, then forced her to spin, placing her back against his chest. He walked her to the wall, press
ed her close. Her trembling gasp was more about the heat radiating from him than the chill of the plaster, he suspected.

  He slid his hands down her sides, her hips, and latched onto her wrists. He lifted her arms and flattened her palms over her head.

  “Leave them there.” A command, and when he released her, she obeyed.

  He stripped her, then caressed her until she was mewling uncontrollably, until the curve of her spine was pliant, until she was trying to mold herself against him. Eventually her head fell to his shoulder, allowing his breath to fan over her. The heat she threw off…far more than his own and exactly what he needed, driving him to passion as only she could.

  Against her ear, he whispered, “Did you like being with me?”

  “Yes.” Said on a broken moan. “I did.”

  “And you want me again.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He traced each of her ribs before dabbling at her navel. “I told you that you would never have to beg me for anything, but I’ve changed my mind. Before I take you, you’ll beg me, Anna. You’ll beg me and you’ll scream and you’ll beg some more.” He needed to know her desire was as potent as his own.

  Throughout the centuries, he’d witnessed every sexual act imaginable, each performed for different reasons. Lust, domination, curiosity, humiliation, degradation, calculation, revenge, hope, the desire to have children, the desire to cause pain. Love he’d always sought to deny.

  But that’s what he wanted with Annabelle. Love. He wanted a giving and taking, a shared experience.

  “Zaaachaaarel,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  “That’s a good start.” He could smell the sweetness of her arousal, a fragrance that stroked him from the inside, heating him up, making him burn hotter, so much hotter.

  “What if I refuse to beg?”

  “You won’t.”

  For a long while, he taunted them both, stroking her everywhere but where she needed him most. Her fingers curled on the wall. Bang, bang. She pounded those little fists, desperate for relief. But did she beg? No.

  Finally she began to talk, telling him all the things she wanted him to do to her…all the things she wanted to do to him….

  …touch him…

  …stroke him…

  …liiick him…

  By the time she quieted, his nerves were so sensitized, he could barely stand. Definitely couldn’t stand still. He rubbed against her, again and again, the friction ecstasy…misery. He imagined her hands on him, all over him. He imagined her mouth on him, all over him.

  He craved.

  “Those things you will do to me.” He barely registered the fire, ice and sheer grit in his voice. “Next time.”

  She turned her head, giving him a peek at her profile. The most adorable of pouts tugged at the corners of her lips. “And now?”

  “Now I continue my quest to make you beg.” He chuckled as her pout deepened. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?”

  He got serious, no longer content to tease her. He worked her until she was alternately gasping and moaning, playing with her breasts, stroking where she needed him most, until her hands were off the wall and in his hair, her nails scouring his scalp. Oh, how she clung to him in the most decadent of ways. She purred. She moaned. She writhed. And all the while he continued to rub against her, desperate to fill her.

  “Please,” she finally begged. “I give. Please, please, please!”

  “I will never say no to you.”

  She threw a little grin over her shoulder, her eyes as bright with humor as they were hot with arousal. “Good, because now I want you to beg me.”

  He did not hesitate. “Please, please, please, Annabelle.” At last he lifted his robe, positioned himself, and slid inside the glorious sheath she provided. “Please.”

  “Zacharel,” she said on a moan. “Faster. Please.”

  “Or…” He went slower—before stopping altogether. His legs were trembling, threatening to give out at any moment, but he would savor every second of this, would be so careful with his woman.

  “Zacharel.”

  He inched back into motion….

  …a little faster…

  “Please.”

  Still a little faster… The pleasure was cut with agony, but he loved it, loved every sensation…faster…faster….

  Her fists again banged into the wall as she shattered. He was right there with her, shouting her name, branding her with all that he was.

  Long minutes later, when they had both calmed, he picked her up and carried her to the shower. She didn’t speak a word as he cleaned her, then himself. No remnants of the demon form remained, and he was glad. She was composed and sated.

  And…he hadn’t once kissed her, he realized suddenly.

  Zacharel looked her over. Soaking-wet hair was plastered to her head, cheeks and shoulders. Ice-blue eyes watched him, droplets clinging at the ends of her lashes. Her cheeks were flushed to a rosy pink, her lips swollen and teeth-marked. She must have chewed them. Her body was reddened where he’d kneaded her, and shaky, so beautifully shaky with satisfaction.

  He cupped her jaw. Forever he simply stood there, continuing to peer at her, allowing her to study him and hiding nothing from her. He wondered if she saw the same loveliness he saw in her, if she saw the reverence and the hunger he felt for her. If she saw the hope for something more. For all. She must have, for she reflected everything back at him.

  For so long, he’d had nothing—and she had somehow become his everything.

  Without explaining himself, he fused their lips together. He wanted the kiss to talk for him, to prepare her for his next confession. Their tongues met, rolled together, dueled, a kiss not meant to arouse but to give.

  When finally he lifted his head, he stared down at her and gave voice to action. “I love you, Annabelle.”

  She was more than his other half; she was the best part of him.

  “I know.”

  That was it? That was all? “Tell me how you knew this.” When he himself hadn’t known until today, this moment. And then tell me you love me back!

  Her expression was so soft, so radiant. “It’s the way you are with me. You’re not like that with anyone else. And let’s not forget my earlier appearance and the fact that you didn’t stab me.”

  He waited, but she said no more. Her fingers toyed with the ends of his hair, winding the strands into ringlets. “What am I like with you?” Some men could give their love and expect nothing in return. Zacharel wasn’t one of them. He expected everything. Would demand it.

  “Softer, sweeter. A protector.” She chuckled warmly. “Insatiable.”

  He adored the way her voice dipped so huskily at the end. “How am I with others?”

  “Harsh, matter-of-fact, demanding. A tyrant.”

  “Good. I must be that way with my men. I am all that stands between them and banishment from the heavens.”

  “How?”

  “My fate is their fate, for the Deity tied me to them as punishment. Though I no longer see it as such,” he said.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  “Do not worry. I will whip them into shape. Perhaps literally. But in the end, they are mine to guard, just as you are mine. The loss of their wings, their immortality, would haunt me. They are good men.”

  “You love them, too,” she said.

  He was far from ready to entertain such a notion, but he admired and respected them greatly. “What about you? Do you love me?” Subtly hinting hadn’t worked; perhaps outright asking would.

  Frowning, she said, “Do you want me to love you?”

  “Yes.” She must. Otherwise he would…what?

  “Will you know if I lie?”

  “Yes. But you will not be lying!”

  Slowly her frown changed into a smile. “Goodness, but you are so easy to tease.”

  “Annabelle,” he growled.

  “Oh, all right. I love you,” she said. “I love you with all my heart.” T
he first had been grudgingly offered, but the second…adoration had dripped from her voice.

  Satisfaction was a sublime avalanche inside him, falling into every part of him, overwhelming him. “You will stay with me always.”