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.” The 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.”
Her somber air returned, and this time, he would bet it was real. “Of course. I won’t break my pledge, but we’ll have to find a way to contain the high lord who wants me. Otherwise, demons will chase me for the rest of my life, and you’ll be in constant danger.”
“Some things are worth any amount of danger.”
“Zacharel,” a hard male voice said from beyond the shower stall. “Something’s happened.”
Annabelle yelped.
Instantly Zacharel’s satisfaction dried up, replaced by fury. With himself, not Koldo. How could he not have heard his soldier enter the bathroom? “Step into the other room. Now.”
No response. No opening and closing of the door, either. But the warrior was no longer there.
Zacharel jerked the towel from the rack at the back of the stall and wrapped the material around Annabelle, unconcerned by the fact that the water would soon soak it.
“Stay here,” he told her, then exited to deal with the latest disaster. And he knew it was a disaster. Nothing else would have brought his warrior here.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ANNABELLE HEARD MUFFLED MALE voices as she searched the bathroom for something to wear. What she found was two washrags and another towel. Not exactly appropriate attire for a meeting with angels. But if she had to pretend dishrag was the latest style, she would. She wouldn’t remain in here like a shameful secret.
Zacharel must have sensed her growing frustration and determination, because he opened the door, peeked inside, winked and tossed in a robe before once again disappearing.