The Darkest Angel (Lords of the Underworld #4.5)(7)
Author: Gena Showalter

All this food, and she hadn’t taken a single bite. Why would she request—It wasn’t stolen, he realized, and for the first time in his endless existence, he was angry with himself. And scared. For her. He hated the emotion, but there it was. She hadn’t eaten in these last nine days because she couldn’t. She was truly starving to death.

Though he wanted her out of his head, out of his life, he hadn’t wanted her to suffer. Yet suffer she had. Unbearably. Now she was too weak to steal anything. And if he force-fed her, she would vomit, hurting more than she already was. Suddenly he wanted to roar.

“Blade,” he said, and within a single blink, a sharp-tipped blade rested in his hand. He stalked to the side of the bed. He was trembling.

“Fries. Chocolate shake.” Her voice was soft, barely audible.

Lysander slashed one of his wrists. Blood instantly spilled from the wound, and he stretched out his arm, forcing each drop to fall into her mouth. Blood was not food for Harpies; it was medicine. Therefore her body could accept it. He’d never freely given his blood to another living being and wasn’t sure he liked the thought of something of his flowing inside this woman’s veins. In fact, the thought actually caused his heartbeat to start slamming against his ribs again. But there was no other way.

At first, she didn’t act as if she noticed. Then her tongue emerged, licking at the liquid before it could reach her lips. Then her eyes opened, amber irises bright, and she grabbed on to his arm, jerking it to her mouth. Her sharp teeth sank into his skin as she sucked.

Another odd sensation, he thought. Having a woman drink from him. There was heat and wetness and a sting, yet it was not unpleasant. It actually lanced a pang of…something unnameable straight to his stomach and between his legs.

“Drink all you need,” he told her. His body would not run out. Every drop was replaced the moment it left him.

Her gaze narrowed on him. The more she swallowed, the more fury he saw banked there. Soon her fingers were tightening around his wrist, her nails cutting deep. If she expected some sort of reaction from him, she would not get it. He’d been alive too long and endured far too many injuries to be affected by something so minor. Except for that pang between his legs…What was that?

Finally, though, she released him. He wasn’t sure if that gladdened him or filled him with disappointment.

Gladdened, of course, he told himself.

A trickle of red flowed from the corner of her mouth, and she licked it away. The sight of that pink tongue caused another lance to shoot through him.

Definitely disap—uh, gladdened.

“You bastard,” she growled through her panting. “You sick, torturing bastard.”

He moved out of striking distance. Not to protect himself, but to protect her. If she were to attack him, he would have to subdue her. And if he subdued her, he might hurt her. And accidentally brush against her. Blood…heating…

“It was never my intent to harm you,” he said. And now, even his voice was trembling. Odd.

“And that makes what you did okay?” She jerked to a sitting position, all that dark hair spilling around her shoulders. The pearl-like sheen was slowly returning to her skin. “You left me here, unable to eat. Dying!”

“I know.” Was that skin as soft as it looked? He gulped. “And I am sorry.” Her anger should have overjoyed him. As he’d hoped, she would no longer laugh up at him, her face lit with the force of her amusement. She would no longer race around him, petting him. Yes, he should have been overjoyed. Instead, the disappointment he’d just denied experiencing raced through him. Disappointment mixed with shame.

She was more a temptation than he had realized.

“You know?” she gasped out. “You know that I can only consume what I steal or earn and yet you failed to make arrangements for me?”

“Yes,” he admitted, hating himself for the first time in his existence.

“What’s more, you left me here. With no way home.”

His nod was stiff. “I have since made restitution by saving your life. But as I said, I am sorry.”

“Oh, well, you’re sorry,” she said, throwing up her arms. “That makes everything better. That makes almost dying acceptable.” She didn’t wait for his reply. She kicked her legs over the bed and stood. Her skin was at full glow now. “Now you listen up. First, you’re going to find a way to feed me. Then, you’re going to tell me how to get off this stupid cloud. Otherwise I will make your life a hell you’ve never experienced before. Actually, I will anyway. That way, you’ll never forget what happens when you mess with a Harpy.”

He believed her. Already she affected him more than anyone else ever had. That was hell enough. Proof: his mouth was actually watering to taste her, his hands itching to touch her. Rather than reveal these new developments, however, he said, “You are powerless here. How would you hurt me?”

“Powerless?” She laughed. “I don’t think so.” One step, two, she approached him.

He held his ground. He would not retreat. Not this time. Assert your authority. “You cannot leave unless I allow it. The cloud belongs to me and places my will above yours. Therefore, there is no exit for you. You would be wise to curry my favor.”

She sucked in a breath, paused. “So you still mean to keep me here forever? Even though I have a wedding to attend?” She sounded surprised.

“When did I ever give you the impression that I meant otherwise? Besides, I heard you tell your sister you didn’t want to go to that wedding.”

“No, I said I didn’t want to be a bridesmaid. But I love my baby sis, so I’ll do it. With a smile.” Bianka ran her tongue over her straight, white teeth. “But let’s talk about you. You like to eavesdrop, huh? That sounds a little demonic for a goody-goody angel.”

Over the years he’d been called far worse than demonic. The goody-goody, though…Was that how she saw him? Rather than as the righteous soldier he was? “In war, I do what I must to win.”

“Let me get this straight.” Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her middle. Stubbornness radiated from her. “We were at war before I even met you?”

“Correct.” A war he would win. But what would he do if he failed to set her on the right path? He would have to destroy her, of course, but for him to legally be allowed to destroy her, he reminded himself, she would first have to commit an unpardonable sin. Though she’d lived a long time, she had never crossed that line. Which meant she would have to be encouraged to do so. But how? Here, away from civilization—both mortal and immortal—she couldn’t free a demon from hell. She couldn’t slay an angel. Besides him, but that would never happen. He was stronger than she was.