Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark)

And yes, she knew he’d prized those locks. The intricacy of the beadwork revealed the time and attention he’d given to every strand.

“I have only known him three months, but the first thing I learned about him was his love for his hair. In all his centuries, he had never cut it,” Zacharel said, sadness coating the edges of his tone. “Not even a trim. I do not know why, but from what the Deity told me about him, I suspect it has something to do with his father.”

So many questions skittered through her mind. “His father? So angels are born?”

“Some of the Deity’s angels were…are born, yes, but some were created fully formed and given to him by the Most High.”

“Which were you?”

“Born.” He tenderly lifted Koldo into his arms. Every step careful, measured, he carried the massive beast to the bed and laid him facedown. “His hair will never grow back, you know.”

“But why?”

“A sacrifice was made and accepted. If his hair could grow back, his sacrifice would have meant nothing.”

And I asked him to do this. Guilt settled heavily on her shoulders, nearly drilling her to her knees. “You’re sure?”

“Not entirely, no, but I know the Council. That is how they operate.”

Well, then. “I’ll take that to mean there’s a chance his hair will grow back. Now, he told me not to give him any of the…water,” she said, “but surely it would help him. Ease his pain.”

“Drinking now would destroy him in the worst possible way, for we are not allowed to heal ourselves with the Water of Life when the wounds we received were to obtain that water. Other angels are even forbidden to aid in any way during the healing process.”

Poor Koldo. “He’s an angel?”

“Yes. He lost his wings long ago.”

“And now he’s lost his hair.” Tears welled in her eyes. No wonder Zacharel had no desire to touch her. She was a menace, ruining the lives of all around her. Always had been.

Sighing, Zacharel trailed his fingers over that bleeding scalp. Koldo’s head hadn’t been shaved, she realized upon closer inspection, but ripped clean. “He will hate you if you pity him,” he said. A warning for both of them?

Koldo had said something similar about Zacharel. If the two weren’t careful, pride would cause them to miss out on the best kind of coddling. “No, he won’t, because he’ll never know. If you can get us out of here, I mean. I can’t stay. I’ve been here so long already, and the demons…” Koldo wasn’t in any condition to fight them now.

“Will eventually find you, and it would be best if they did not find Koldo’s secret hideout,” he finished for her.

“Exactly.”

“No matter how strong your draw is for the demons, they should not have found you in my cloud. Should not have come for you.”

“What exactly draws them?” At the institution, he’d mentioned hatred, lying and the urge to commit violence, but she’d done her best to focus only on good things.

“What I told you before is still true,” he said, as though reading her mind, “but you are a special case. Your body carries the essentia of the demon who marked you, and that essentia radiates from you.”

She blinked in surprise. Such a simple answer, yet totally life changing. There was nothing she could do to stop radiating an essence she couldn’t even feel. “How did he mark me?”

Zacharel stalked to the dresser and dug through the drawers, finally pulling out a robe.

Urgency bombarded her, and she barely stopped herself from gripping his shoulders and shaking him. “Tell me! He kissed me and he licked me, but I had to have come into contact with him before that because the change in my eyes happened before that, and as you once so sweetly told me, my eyes belong to a demon.”

He said nothing.

She continued. “The morning of his attack, my eyes felt as if they’d been scrubbed raw and bleached. And after that, my parents… That first demon…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t understand why he came. It was my birthday, and I’d just had the most amazing dream. It should have been a perfect day.”

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