Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark)

“Did I scare you with my words?” he asked, mistaking her reaction. He traced his fingers over the ridges of her spine.

“No.” And that was the truth. He’d hurt her, cutting her deep in her soul, but he hadn’t scared her. Well, she had him now. That would have to be enough. And when the time came to separate, she would be the one to walk away. Too many people had left her, and she wasn’t going to watch another do so.

Not ever again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ZACHAREL HAD NEVER EXPERIENCED anything as consuming as being with Annabelle. No matter what they did, as long as they were together, touching, seeking, he was swept up, undone. Remade.

Afterward, apprehension would attempt to overtake him.

She made him feel too much. He wanted her too desperately. A relationship could never work, not permanently as he craved—as he would have for as long as possible.

When his month on earth was over, he would ask her to move into his cloud. She would say yes. He would accept no other answer.

“So, what now?” she asked him around a yawn.

“We sleep.”

“Nope. Sorry, but I already knew the answer and that wasn’t it. Now we talk. I want to know more about you.”

Such soft, smooth skin she had. Her light, floral scent cast a silken net around him, the gossamer threads somehow stronger than anything he’d ever before encountered. “Such as?”

“Well, here’s what I already know. You were born rather than created. You had a twin brother, but for some reason you won’t explain, you had to kill him.”

He waited for her to continue.

She sighed. “Okay, so you aren’t ready to take my hint and talk about him yet. What else do I know? Oh, yeah. You have a black spot growing on your chest, and it concerns me. You lead an army of angels, and I think you’re just now discovering how much you respect your own men.”

“First, do not be concerned with the spot. Second, what makes you think I respect my men?”

“Nice try. Like I wouldn’t notice you didn’t say the spot was nothing for me to be worried about, only that I wasn’t to be concerned. I’m on to your tricks, buddy.”

“That will not change my response.”

“Anyway. From the day at the institution to the day those three angels found us in New Zealand, your entire demeanor and tone have changed with them. Well, changed slightly. But with you, slight is major.”

Very observant, his Annabelle. “Yes, I do respect my men. When I needed them most, they came through for me. I was told they were unfit for the heavens, that they were too violent, too irreverent to handle their duties, but I no longer believe that is so. They have each suffered in some way, and they have dealt with their pain the only way they know how.” As he had.

“I’m with you. I’ve only met a few of the guys, and granted, they all looked pretty dangerous, but there was something remarkable about them. Something worth fighting for.”

He liked that she defended those under his charge. “What else do you know about me?”

“Only one other thing. That you’re friends with a group of demon-possessed warriors.”

“And you want to know more?” He weighed everything she’d said she knew about him against everything she’d hinted that she wanted to know. “What do you want to know first? The difference between the born and created angels, or how my association with the demon possessed came to be?”

Another sigh left her, this one warm and sweet and ripe with understanding. She understood that he had struck his brother completely from the conversation, yet she didn’t push. “The difference between the born and the created, please.”

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