Wicked Kiss
Page 36
The fierce way he said it nearly made me smile again. “Money-back guarantee?”
“Absolutely.” He searched my face. “There’s something else troubling you tonight. What is it?”
I was an open book. I might as well not close the cover just yet. I looked up at him, taking in his height, feeling his very overwhelming presence filling this room. He studied me as if both fascinated and wary of what I might say next.
“You didn’t tell me you’re an angel of death,” I whispered, my voice suddenly hoarse.
His gaze darkened. “Cassandra told you.”
I nodded. “I should have guessed. I mean, the way you handle that dagger...”
“She shouldn’t have scared you.”
“Scared? Me? To find out you’re one of Heaven’s assassins?” I turned to face my vanity. I could see him behind me in the shadows, watching my reaction. “I did have a dream you killed me last night.”
“Stupid dream.”
I shrugged a shoulder, studying my reflection. Loose, my hair was long enough to reach my waist, and hung over my shoulders. “Maybe it was a vision of the future. I have those, you know. Sometimes.”
“It was just a nightmare. Nothing more.”
“So it’s true. You’re not denying it. You are an angel of death.”
There was a short pause. “I am.”
My heart skipped a beat at the confirmation. “And if they pull you back to Heaven and reverse your fallen status, that’s what you’ll continue to be. An angel given the task to assassinate threats against the human world, against Heaven itself—threats like my aunt.”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
“Or...like a gray you have an inconvenient addiction to.”
This was met by silence for so long that I wasn’t sure if he’d answer me. But then, “You say whatever’s on your mind, but sometimes you need to listen with more than just your ears. Words aren’t always that reliable.”
He’d succeeded again in confusing me. “What does that mean?”
Bishop held my gaze for a moment in the surface of the mirror without speaking. “I came here tonight to give you something. A gift.”
I blinked at the sudden change in subject, my heart pounding. I turned to face him directly. “What is it?”
He reached under his shirt and pulled out an object wrapped in leather. He unwrapped it slowly to reveal the contents.
I tentatively drew a little closer to see it. It was a gold dagger, smaller than the one he had, which was the better part of a foot including the hilt. This was more the size of a steak knife, but with a wavy blade tapering to a sharp tip. A ruby was set into the ornately carved hilt.
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” I breathed.
He nodded. “It’s something I got at the Trinity museum. They have no idea what it’s really for or how rare it is. The metal—it’s gold infused with steel, but it has an old spell on it.”
My gaze shot to his. “Like a magic spell?”
“Yeah.” His lips curved at my amazement. “There is magic in this world, Samantha. You must realize that by now.”
“I’ve been trying to enjoy what little denial I still have left.”
He held the small dagger in his hand, and I couldn’t resist reaching toward it to run my index finger along the hilt, the carving rough against my touch. When I touched his warm skin, that familiar shiver of energy sparked between us, making my breath catch.
“This dagger can do damage to a supernatural. It won’t kill an angel or a demon, but it will hurt them more than a regular knife would.”
I pulled my hand back, alarmed. I sat down on the edge of my bed. “Why would I need something like that?”
“For protection.”
I searched for the right words. “But we already know I can zap them if anyone threatens me.”
“You need to be touching them to do that and they can’t be actively blocking you. There are too many factors in play. A good sharp dagger, however, doesn’t need anything but the right opportunity to use it. I’m not saying you’ll need it, but I’d rather know you have it just in case.”
I tried to process all of this. “You said it’s from the museum. You mean, you—you stole it?”
He looked down at it before looking at me again. “Borrowed. Without permission.”
That earned a full smile from me, albeit a shaky one. “Bad angel.”
He laughed softly. “Sometimes rules need to be bent. So will you accept it?”
I studied the small dagger again. It was so incredible. And I swear I could feel a hum of otherworldly energy coming off it—much like I did with Bishop’s Hallowed Blade. “I’ll accept it.”
“Good. Then stand up.” When I did as he asked, he knelt down in front of me. “The sheath can be strapped to your thigh. It’s the best way for you to conceal it.”
“Awesome,” I managed. “I’m going to have a concealed weapon at the ready. I could work for the mob.”
I inhaled sharply as he attached the sheath to my bare right thigh, and pulled the straps tight. His fingers slid over my skin, sending an uncontrollable shiver racing through me.
He glanced up at me, his gaze darkening. He had to be able to hear how loud and fast my heart was beating.
I cleared my throat. “Thanks, I think?”
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t pull away from me immediately, keeping his hands pressed against my skin, circling the leather sheath. “Try not to lose it, though. It’s kind of priceless.”
“Absolutely.” He searched my face. “There’s something else troubling you tonight. What is it?”
I was an open book. I might as well not close the cover just yet. I looked up at him, taking in his height, feeling his very overwhelming presence filling this room. He studied me as if both fascinated and wary of what I might say next.
“You didn’t tell me you’re an angel of death,” I whispered, my voice suddenly hoarse.
His gaze darkened. “Cassandra told you.”
I nodded. “I should have guessed. I mean, the way you handle that dagger...”
“She shouldn’t have scared you.”
“Scared? Me? To find out you’re one of Heaven’s assassins?” I turned to face my vanity. I could see him behind me in the shadows, watching my reaction. “I did have a dream you killed me last night.”
“Stupid dream.”
I shrugged a shoulder, studying my reflection. Loose, my hair was long enough to reach my waist, and hung over my shoulders. “Maybe it was a vision of the future. I have those, you know. Sometimes.”
“It was just a nightmare. Nothing more.”
“So it’s true. You’re not denying it. You are an angel of death.”
There was a short pause. “I am.”
My heart skipped a beat at the confirmation. “And if they pull you back to Heaven and reverse your fallen status, that’s what you’ll continue to be. An angel given the task to assassinate threats against the human world, against Heaven itself—threats like my aunt.”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
“Or...like a gray you have an inconvenient addiction to.”
This was met by silence for so long that I wasn’t sure if he’d answer me. But then, “You say whatever’s on your mind, but sometimes you need to listen with more than just your ears. Words aren’t always that reliable.”
He’d succeeded again in confusing me. “What does that mean?”
Bishop held my gaze for a moment in the surface of the mirror without speaking. “I came here tonight to give you something. A gift.”
I blinked at the sudden change in subject, my heart pounding. I turned to face him directly. “What is it?”
He reached under his shirt and pulled out an object wrapped in leather. He unwrapped it slowly to reveal the contents.
I tentatively drew a little closer to see it. It was a gold dagger, smaller than the one he had, which was the better part of a foot including the hilt. This was more the size of a steak knife, but with a wavy blade tapering to a sharp tip. A ruby was set into the ornately carved hilt.
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” I breathed.
He nodded. “It’s something I got at the Trinity museum. They have no idea what it’s really for or how rare it is. The metal—it’s gold infused with steel, but it has an old spell on it.”
My gaze shot to his. “Like a magic spell?”
“Yeah.” His lips curved at my amazement. “There is magic in this world, Samantha. You must realize that by now.”
“I’ve been trying to enjoy what little denial I still have left.”
He held the small dagger in his hand, and I couldn’t resist reaching toward it to run my index finger along the hilt, the carving rough against my touch. When I touched his warm skin, that familiar shiver of energy sparked between us, making my breath catch.
“This dagger can do damage to a supernatural. It won’t kill an angel or a demon, but it will hurt them more than a regular knife would.”
I pulled my hand back, alarmed. I sat down on the edge of my bed. “Why would I need something like that?”
“For protection.”
I searched for the right words. “But we already know I can zap them if anyone threatens me.”
“You need to be touching them to do that and they can’t be actively blocking you. There are too many factors in play. A good sharp dagger, however, doesn’t need anything but the right opportunity to use it. I’m not saying you’ll need it, but I’d rather know you have it just in case.”
I tried to process all of this. “You said it’s from the museum. You mean, you—you stole it?”
He looked down at it before looking at me again. “Borrowed. Without permission.”
That earned a full smile from me, albeit a shaky one. “Bad angel.”
He laughed softly. “Sometimes rules need to be bent. So will you accept it?”
I studied the small dagger again. It was so incredible. And I swear I could feel a hum of otherworldly energy coming off it—much like I did with Bishop’s Hallowed Blade. “I’ll accept it.”
“Good. Then stand up.” When I did as he asked, he knelt down in front of me. “The sheath can be strapped to your thigh. It’s the best way for you to conceal it.”
“Awesome,” I managed. “I’m going to have a concealed weapon at the ready. I could work for the mob.”
I inhaled sharply as he attached the sheath to my bare right thigh, and pulled the straps tight. His fingers slid over my skin, sending an uncontrollable shiver racing through me.
He glanced up at me, his gaze darkening. He had to be able to hear how loud and fast my heart was beating.
I cleared my throat. “Thanks, I think?”
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t pull away from me immediately, keeping his hands pressed against my skin, circling the leather sheath. “Try not to lose it, though. It’s kind of priceless.”
