Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark)

He loved everything in between.

He loved the sounds she made, the way she moved, the softness and sweetness and the passion he experienced with her. He loved what she did to him, hugging him, kissing him, making him feel as if he were the most precious thing on earth.

But what he loved most was being inside her, one with her. A part of her. Twined around her, their breath mingling. Yes, the physical sensations that came with that part had delighted him, but the mental…the emotional…were even better.

Love. He was the one who had never known its true meaning, he realized. It was not just a pretty word. Genuine love was a gift. Special. Necessary. A lesson his brother had tried to teach him, but one he had ignored. Until now.

Now…as Annabelle glowed with Zacharel’s essentia, a subtle light that seeped from her pores, as if the sun was living just under her skin. He loved that, too.

Mine, he thought. She is mine. I will not share her.

“If you can bear to take a break, you insatiable beast, there’s something I want to do,” she said, climbing from the bed for an endless, abhorrent moment.

She grabbed a pen from the desk before putting him out of his misery and straddling his hips. He propped his back against the pillows as satisfaction of a different sort consumed him. They were together, no matter what their bodies were doing. Something else he loved.

“By the way, this isn’t a hint for more,” she said. “Not this time.”

“Tease.” How she thrilled him, every aspect of her. A fall of blue-black hair around her shoulders, cheeks flushed and dewy. Ice-blue eyes sparkling, lips swollen from his kisses.

“Why did you need the pen?” he asked.

“We’ll get to that. First, you gotta tell me. Am I going to get in trouble for debauching you?” she asked, then chewed on the end of that pen as she waited for his answer.

A terrible habit, he thought, gently tugging the thing from between her teeth. “Are you sure you debauched me? Because I’m not convinced. Perhaps you should try again.”

The warmth of her laughter filled the room, enchanting him. He wanted her to laugh like that at least a hundred times a day.

“Such a guy thing to say, but no more attempted debauchings tonight. I have to save something for tomorrow.”

That she planned to spend another day with him, that she had just given him something to look forward to, that she truly had forgiven him… If he’d been standing, he would have dropped to his knees, once again humbling himself before her, thankful and grateful. Now he smiled. A genuine smile of delight.

She reached out and traced a fingertip along the curve of his lips. “I love when you smile like this.” Her fingertip moved to his cheek, to the dimple Hadrenial used to flash him. “You’re… Actually, there are no words for what you are. Beautiful isn’t adequate, and exquisite barely scratches the surface.”

Appearance had never meant anything to him. Until now. “Thank you?”

Another laugh bubbled from her, her skin and her face glowing with health and life and vitality. She was the one who defied description. “Yes, that was a compliment. Now, then. The trouble thing.”

“No, you will not get into trouble. Remember, the Deity’s angels have a different purpose than the Most High’s, and are therefore governed by the same set of rules as the humans. Yes, my race was created by the Most High, and given to the Deity, but we are more like you. Not that you will ever hear any of us admit it.”

“Well, all right, then. The pen. I want to play a game with you.” She placed the tip just over his chest, frowned then looked up at him. “Wait. Another question, or a demand really. Tell me about the black spot. It’s bigger than last time—and last time it was big!”

His gaze flicked to the spot in question. Yes, the black was already several inches larger than it had been two days ago. “When my brother died, I saved his essentia. His love.”

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