If only he’d been short. But, no. He was tall, at least six foot five, with wide shoulders and the most superb muscle mass she’d ever seen. And his wings? A-maz-ing. They arched over his shoulders and cascaded all the way to the floor. Feathers of the purest white glistened with the essence of the purest rainbow, thick threads of gold forming a hypnotic pattern that led into patches of down.
The other guy, the blond, had been visually delicious as well, but despite the depraved gleam in his cerulean eyes, she’d thought she could handle him. At least better than she could handle this one.
Too late for that. And maybe that was for the best, she decided then. She was filled with so much hate, anger, desperation and helplessness—each, apparently, an aphrodisiac for the demons—Zacharel’s coldness would be a refreshing change.
“So, uh, what did you imagine?” she finally asked.
“Nothing I will tell you. Now, put your arms around my neck,” Zacharel commanded, his voice rough with expectation.
Had anyone ever told him no? she wondered as she linked her fingers at his nape.
“Good. Now close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“You and your questions.” He sighed. “I plan to whisk you through the walls and into the sky. The view might disconcert you.”
“I’ll be fine.” Closing her eyes would make her far more vulnerable than she already was.
If he was impressed by her bravery, he didn’t show it. His lips, those gorgeous red lips, pursed, even as his wings burst from his back to glide up and down, slow and easy. Mesmerizing. “Also,” he added, “I do not wish to look into your eyes and see the taint of the demon.”
She had a demon’s eyes? That’s why her irises had turned blue? “But I can’t be a demon,” she gasped out. “I just can’t be.”
“You are not. You are tainted by one. As I said.”
Gradually she calmed—despite the fact that his tone shouted, If you had listened, you would have realized that. “What’s the difference?”
“Humans can be influenced, claimed or possessed by demons, but they cannot become one. You have been claimed.”
“By who?” The one who had killed her parents? If so, she would…what? What could she really do?
“I do not know.”
If he didn’t know, there was no hope for her. “Well, I don’t care if you find my eyes repellant.” She so cared. She disliked the fact that a part of her appeared demonic. “You can deal.”
Several seconds passed in silence. Then, he nodded and said, “Very well. You have only yourself to blame.”
A strange sensation coursed through her, chilling her blood another degree and icing over her skin. The tile beneath her vanished. Suddenly she was in the air, seeing room after room whiz past her, then the roof of the building, then the sky, pinpricks of light scattered in every direction.
Oh, my. Tears of happiness welled in her eyes. She had been liberated from what had seemed to be a life of endless torture. She was truly free. And for the first time in years, she had something to look forward to rather than something to dread. A joy like she’d never known flooded her, consumed her. This was…this was…too much.
The sheer splendor of the night overwhelmed her, and the tears splashed onto her cheeks. The most amazing perfumes fragranced the air. Wildflowers and mint, dew and freshly cut grass. Milk and honey, chocolate and cinnamon. The subtlest hint of smoke, curling on a gentle breeze.
“I had forgotten,” she whispered, hair whipping against her cheeks. But even that was a delight. She was free, she was free, she was finally free.
“Forgotten what?” Zacharel asked, and there was something strange about his voice. The first hint of emotion, perhaps.
“How beautiful the world is.” A world her parents had left far too soon. A world her parents would never again enjoy.