That’s right. He’s with me. She was feeling pretty good about herself, in fact…until she noticed the way men kept their distance from her, even salesmen. But…but…why? It wasn’t like a Wanted poster hung on every wall. Right?
She glanced at Zacharel. He was glaring at a man a few rows over—a man now backing up, leaving the store.
O-kay, so, problem solved. But she couldn’t really castigate him. He was more than a bodyguard; he was an ATM. Whenever she found something she wanted, a T-shirt, a pair of pants, boots, a purse, it didn’t matter, Zacharel suddenly had cash.
“Are you miserable yet?” she asked him as he hid her purchases the same way he’d hidden his wings.
“I—”
“Hold that thought!” She had just spotted a cookie stand! She switched directions and bypassed Zacharel to eagerly bounce up and down in front of the counter, her mouth watering. “Chocolate chip,” she told the gloved lady waiting to take her order. “Two of them.”
Had she ever thought to do something like this again, something purely frivolous? No. And that she was…she could have fallen to her knees and wept. Funny that she’d fought more tears since her liberation from the institution than she had during the four years she’d spent inside.
“I do not want one,” Zacharel said.
“Oh, uh, yeah, because the second one was totally for you.”
He smacked his lips as he paid the bill. “Such a little liar, Annabelle.”
A circumspect glance proved he wasn’t angry about that. Shocker. Usually he huffed and puffed. But the heat, whatever it stemmed from, was still banked in his expression.
With the cookies in her hand, they resumed their journey through the shopping center. Five steps in, she had half the first cookie down. Another five and it was gone, no crumbs remaining. Now, this was living!
She nibbled on the second treat, determined to savor every bit of it. She slowed her step and forced Zacharel to keep pace beside her rather than behind her.
“You are treating that thing as if it is a great treasure,” he said.
Well, yeah. Because it was. “You have something against cookies?”
“I couldn’t say, as I have never had one.”
Wait. What? “Never, as in never?”
“Is there another meaning for the word never that I don’t know about?”
Ha, ha. “But that’s criminal!”
“Hardly.”
“But…why haven’t you tasted one?”
“Because I choose to consume only foods that will strengthen me.”
“I’m not sure you realize how ridiculous you sound. But luckily for you, Annabelle Miller is here and on the case, and she’s not going to let you go another minute without knowing the perfection that is chocolate ecstasy.” She stopped, pinched a piece from the edge of what remained of the second confection, and held it up to Zacharel’s lips. “Open up. You’re about to discover the true meaning of delicious.”
The heat intensified, and his lips softened. He would always look like a warrior—with those muscles, how could he not?—but just then he was more of a seducer. The prince from her dream…only, he wasn’t a wretched demon in disguise.
“You are like Eve with her apple,” he said.
“Is that an insult or a compliment?”
“Both.”
“Then I’m only half-offended.” She traced a line of melted chocolate across his lower lip. “Open. Don’t make me command you again.”
He opened.
She set the piece on his tongue, but before she could remove her fingers, he closed his lips around them and sucked. A gasp was pulled from her, all the heat she’d noticed enveloping her, spreading through her, making her quiver.
He didn’t mean anything with this, she knew, and slowly withdrew from him. He had no experience, had no idea what such an action implied.
He ate the cookie and licked his lips, his gaze locked on her. Such pretty lashes, she thought, such a dynamic gaze.
Such a beautiful man.
“You’re right,” he said. His tone gave nothing away. “Delicious.”