Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(40)
Author: Gena Showalter

“What is this place?” A quiver of distress shook her as she eyed their new surroundings.

Even without looking, he knew what she saw. A rack, with shackles for someone’s wrists and ankles. A bed with black sheets to hide anything that spilled. A wall of instruments he had no desire to ever use.

He could have chosen another cave that belonged to an angel like him, a male who had never before experienced desire. But he’d chosen Thane’s dwelling, where he’d known these things would be, because he’d hoped to disgust and shame himself into abandoning his current path.

But no, he still wanted Annabelle. Wanted to do things to her…

Her eyes frosted over, nearly freezing him in place. He, who had known a cold unlike any other. “What’s your price for staying with me? You said you’d tell me when we reached our new location. Well, we’re here and I can’t say I’m impressed.”

And he never lied, did he. “You are more than ‘not impressed.’ You are disgusted. Yes?”

“Yes.” She waved a hand toward the arsenal before them. “Can you blame me after everything I’ve been through? I can guess what you want to do with me.”

Her response boded ill, and he frowned. Did she find fault with the instruments—or him? “First, I would never use those things on you or ask you to use them on me. Second, I ask only that you willingly give yourself to me.”

For a long while, she merely gaped at him. Then she gave him a once-over and gulped. Then she shook her head violently, that tumble of dark, gorgeous hair slapping at her cheeks. “If you demand my body as payment, then the sex will not be consensual, no matter how compliant I seem to be. I won’t actually be giving myself to you. Rather, you’ll be forcing yourself on me. Just like Fitzpervert!”

Anger burst from his bones, filling every part of him. “I am nothing like him.” If Zacharel was to drown in need for her, he would be damned if he would not pull her down with him. “Do you desire me?” he demanded.

She licked her lips, gulped again. “I’m attracted to you, yes.”

That eased the hottest threads of his emotion. “As I am…attracted to you.” Attracted. Such a mild word for the cravings constantly bombarding him. “So what is the problem?”

For a moment her anger far surpassed his own, blazing from her with all the heat of the sun. “I won’t be forced to do anything ever again. I won’t have my hands tied—literally or figuratively.”

He realized his mistake and nearly cursed. He should not have brought her to a place like this, even if it suited his own purposes, and he should not have tried to push the issue. He should have allowed things to progress naturally.

But…lacking as he was in this area, he knew nothing about “naturally.”

“I told you. I am not like the doctor. I am not like other men you have known. Why would I save you only to hurt you? But very well, if you cannot trust me, we will bargain. I told you I knew how.”

That mollified her somewhat. “Very well. I’m listening.”

“I will stay with you for a month,” and far longer, he added silently, if he hadn’t yet assuaged his curiosity. Because just then, he realized he wanted more than once. He wanted all that she had to offer. Wanted to experience everything with her. Only then would he let her go. “If you will vow to kiss me whenever the urge strikes you.” Surely the rest would spring from there.

“But the girl…the one who kissed you without permission…”

“The situation with you is not the same. You have my permission. You have an open invitation.” His tone of voice deepened, became raspier, every syllable layered with his hunger.

“Because you’re attracted to me,” she reiterated brokenly, toying with the ends of her hair.

“Yes.”

“But what if I never want to kiss you?”

“Then you will not.” But she would want to; he would make sure of it.

She looked down, then up at him, down, up. Those expressive eyes revealed a mix of trepidation and hope and…something white-hot. “Yes. I agree to your terms.”

* * *

AGREEING HAD SEEMED LIKE SUCH a good idea, but now, a few hours after their bargain had been struck, Annabelle was ablaze with nervous energy. Would she have the courage to follow through? Wouldn’t she?

It was all she’d been able to think about.

“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.