Eventually, sleep battered past every wall of resistance she had erected, and she slipped into the land of dreams. Her parents hugged and kissed her, telling her how much they loved her. Her older brother, Brax, rubbed his knuckles into her hair. Oh, how she had missed him. Since her incarceration, he’d made his dislike of her very clear.
Once upon a time, he had threatened any boy who’d wanted to date her. He had smiled at her every morning as he’d fixed her breakfast, her parents having already rushed off to work. On the drive to school, he had lectured her about studying harder and keeping her grades up so that she could get into a good college and have the best possible future.
That wasn’t possible now. The man Brax had become did not believe Annabelle’s recollection of that fateful morning. He did not trust her, and he certainly did not adore her and want the best for her.
Best? What was the best for someone like her? Despite the euphoria she’d felt upon first leaving the institution, despite her desire to live on her own, happy and carefree, the truth was now unavoidable. The only future she had was one on the run from the law.
The dream morphed, her parents and Brax pushed to the back of her mind and replaced by the demons she’d fought throughout the years. She saw blood-soaked floors no one else could see, her feet slipping and sliding in the puddles as she cried for help she would never receive.
Thankfully, that dream morphed, as well. She lay beside Zacharel, and he placed his cold hands on her, gently brushing her hair from her face as he mumbled about troublesome humans. He stuffed sweet, juicy clumps of fruit down her throat, and she somehow found the energy to slap him for being such a turd about it.
The fourth day, everything changed. Her sleep calmed, her mind blanking. The aches and pains faded. Finally, blessedly, even the trembling and the sweating eased, and strength returned to her limbs. She stretched and struggled to a sitting position, dizziness waiting at the fringes of her mind, ready to devour her entire being.
She looked at her surroundings—she was still inside the cloud—then at herself. She was dressed in a white robe as soft as cashmere and scrubbed clean from head to toe, despite the length of time that had passed. Who had changed her? Bathed her?
Zacharel?
Her cheeks flushed with heat. Yeah, Zacharel. His part hadn’t been a dream, after all, but straight-up reality.
How…nice of him.
Zacharel didn’t seem like the type to concern himself with the suffering of others, especially at the expense of his own comfort, but he’d risked a few slaps from a whacked-out female just to ensure she ate.
Poor guy. He probably regretted releasing her.
She threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood, swayed. It was time to hunt Zacharel down, thank him and figure out her next move.
*
“PESKY HUMAN,” ZACHAREL muttered as he paced the center of his cloud. He had never before taken care of a sick human, or even a sick angel, for that matter. Clearly. Under his care, Annabelle had only gotten worse.
And she’d slapped him! On multiple occasions! Not even his Deity had ever dared such a thing. Whip him, yes. Zacharel was still recovering from his latest round with the leather strap, but slap him? Never. Not that the puny actions had hurt. It was the principle of the thing. He’d taken time out of his day to care for her, precious time he should be devoting to his new army and their various missions, and she couldn’t thank him?
“Typical mortal,” he grumbled now. His anger with her did not stem from worry, he was certain of it. He rubbed the heel of his palm up and down the center of his chest and smacked his lips, cringing at the sour taste in his mouth.
He wouldn’t voice a lie, but he would certainly entertain one in his own mind.
Annabelle would live or she would die, and Zacharel wasn’t going to concern himself one way or the other any longer. He just wasn’t.
He grimaced as that sour taste intensified. Enough of this! He would do what any other man would have done in this situation. He would summon a female to take over. Jamila. Yes, Jamila would ensure Annabelle’s safety.