Wicked Nights

Page 26

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 not 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.”