“You look hot,” Zacharel said. He puttered around the kitchen, fixing her a sandwich.
She knew he didn’t mean the word hot as anyone else would have. “I am.” The robe that had fitted itself to her body, becoming a T-shirt and pants, had returned to its shapeless form just before she and Zacharel had flown here, swathing her from neck to toes. “I could use a shower. Alone.”
“A robe cleans its wearer from the inside out. Right now you are cleaner than you have ever been.”
“Oh. That’s cool.” And that response was lame. She had to pull herself together. “I mean, I noticed its cleaning ability when you were injured.” I just didn’t put two and two together.
“Perhaps you should change into your new clothes.”
“I think I will.” Just not the way he probably thought.
He’d set the bags at the entrance. She dug through each one until she found what she wanted. Then, the same way she had stripped out of her leather, with the robe shielding her, she now dressed.
“Unfair,” she thought she heard Zacharel mutter.
Only when her new bra and panties, T-shirt, jeans and boots were in place—and she had successfully cut through the pockets for easy access to the blades still strapped to her legs—did she finally remove the robe.
Zacharel’s gaze roved over her from top to bottom—then back up again. “I approve. And now you will eat.” He carried a plate to the small wooden table, sat down and motioned for her to join him.
“And we will talk,” she said.
“Of course.”
She’d meant to continue their bargaining, but he began to grill her for information—and she couldn’t help but grill him right back. Why a cave? Why the sex toys? The answer to the first: because. The answer to the second: because.
So informative, her angel.
She shifted uncomfortably. Neither of their chairs possessed a back, and while she felt like she would fall backward every time she moved, he was perfectly at ease, the lack of slats allowing him to comfortably position his wings.
“The demon that killed your parents,” he said, motioning for her to take another bite out of the most delicious sandwich she’d ever eaten. Soft, moist and bursting with sweet and spicy flavors. “What did he look like?”
“What if I said ugly, and left it at that?” Two could play the reticent game.
“I would press.”
“Thought so.” She chewed, swallowed, trying not to picture the beast that had haunted her nightmares all these years. With only the slightest quaver in her tone, she described the red eyes, the humanoid face and the vampire fangs. The smooth, crimson skin, the horns that protruded from his spine. The tail that had curled into a metal spike.
All the while Zacharel frowned. See? His default expression.
“That could be any number of demons, but definitely not the one who dictated which demons could and could not enter your institution. Still, we will find Burden, talk to him.”
Burden. What a terrible name. “He’ll be honest with you?”
“With a little persuasion, perhaps. But sometimes you can discern the truth by breaking apart the lie.”
“As long as you’re sure. And just so you know, I can handle danger. Don’t even think about leaving me behind.”
His eyes narrowed, though that failed to hide the green flames sparking to shattering life. “I could absolutely leave you behind, Annabelle, and there’s nothing you could do to stop me.”
“I could hate you,” she seethed. “Well, not hate you, since I now refuse to hate anyone, but I could be very angry with you!”
“And you think that would bother me?” Such a calmly uttered question, as if he didn’t care about the answer.
But he did care, and there was no hiding that fact. Not any longer. He wanted her body, had tried to demand it as payment, and when she’d said no, he’d decided to settle for her kisses.