Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(60)
Author: Gena Showalter

Burden chuckled. “And then there were two. What think you of that, little girl?”

Annabelle met his gaze with all the bravado she could muster. “I think it’s time to finish this. You and me, right here, right now, winner take all.”

He rubbed a too-long pinky nail between his teeth before he said, “I see now why you’ve garnered so much interest. I find I admire your courage, foolish as it is…and I know I will enjoy breaking you. Which I’ll do, before I escort you to your new master.”

“Ohhh, a new master. Scary. Why don’t you keep me instead?” she suggested. “You can give me a tour of the club.” I can knee you in the balls and run. “We’ll get to know each other better and…who knows what else.”

“Darling, it’s impossible to trick me. I’m—”

The door split down the middle. Suddenly wings wrapped around her, shielding her view of the room. “I’m here,” Zacharel said. “I just had to get the guards outside the office.”

Oh, sweet mercy! Zacharel had never intended to leave her alone, she realized, had always had her best interests at heart. She should be ashamed of herself for assuming otherwise, but at the moment she was simply too grateful.

“I thought—” Her words were cut off as gunfire erupted. The horrible clang of metal against metal—and then metal popping through flesh and into bone. Grunts and groans sounded. Shock and confusion blasted through her, holding her immobile. War had broken out, but all Annabelle could do was stand there, clutching the collar of Zacharel’s robe.

Robe? Yep, she realized. The street clothes had melted away, returning to a flowing drape of material. “Friends of yours?” she asked.

“Yes. Their timing leaves something to be desired. They should have burst into the office much earlier,” he added more loudly.

“Hey!” someone said. “We got up here as fast as we could.”

“Then you need more training,” Zacharel growled.

Annabelle gave him a shake. “What can I do to help?” She owed him. Because really, this had all happened because of her. She didn’t want anyone else hurt on her account.

A pause as Zacharel panned the room. “There is no need for you to do anything. Burden is already contained.”

“True that. We’re all done, big guy. You’re welcome, by the way,” said a husky voice she recognized.

A voice she would never forget, because it shivered through her with unnatural force. Of course, the scents of champagne and chocolate drifted to her nose, confirming her suspicions.

The man possessed by the demon of Promiscuity was here.

Annabelle would have assumed a defensive position—or maybe offensive—but Zacharel held her steady.

“You’re not done until you clean up the mess,” he announced harshly.

Wait. They were working together?

Do not assume the worst. Not this time.

Grumbles, then, “Whatever you say, angel cake,” a woman said. “Dibs on telling others what to clean!”

“Kaia,” a man groaned. “You are such a brat.”

“You’re only jealous you didn’t think of it first.”

“True.”

Different sounds soon filled Annabelle’s ears. Something being dragged. A body? A trash bag being opened. Heavy things falling inside, landing. Mumbles of complaint.

She blocked each one. “Why didn’t you tell me your plan?”

“Because demons can taste fear.”

“And he needed to taste mine to believe you,” she finished for him.

“Not necessarily. Even though you are learning to look past such emotions, I needed your reactions to be honest.” At long last, Zacharel’s wings lowered.

Annabelle spun. Smears of blood covered the walls and floor, though she could tell someone had tried to wipe them away. Other than that, there was no sign that a battle had taken place. Four bloodstained male warriors and the three females stood in the center of the room, each studying her with avid interest.

She would have studied them right back, but then she caught sight of Burden, still at his desk, his cheek pressed into the surface and a blade poised at the center of his neck, between two ridges of spine.

A horribly scarred man held that blade with a steady hand. “What do you want me to do with him, angel?”

“My men will come and collect him. We have questions, and he has answers.”

“You said your men were not here,” Burden gritted out.

Zacharel smiled the cruelest of his grins. “And they are not. Yet. I told you I brought no angels with me, and unlike you, I’m a man of my word. But I didn’t make any promises about demons, did I? Allow me to introduce you to the Lords of the Underworld.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THANE, XERXES AND BJORN strode into the office, but they didn’t say a word, and they didn’t stay. They collected Burden and took off. Everyone watched, silent.

As their footsteps echoed, Zacharel introduced Annabelle to the group who’d saved the day. Most were demon possessed, yet clearly Zacharel knew them, liked them—and wouldn’t let her hurt them. Lucien carried Death. Strider carried Defeat. Amun carried Secrets and, of course, Paris, the guy who’d needed a light for his cigarette, carried Promiscuity.

The best she could do was incline her head to acknowledge she’d heard their names. Demons were demons, no matter how you sliced it. She wanted nothing to do with them.

The women weren’t possessed, but they seemed just as dangerous—if not more so. Kaia was a redheaded Harpy, whatever that meant. Anya was a gorgeous blonde stunner and the supposed goddess of Anarchy, and Haidee was…undoubtedly something, though no one would say what.

Haidee’s tanned skin glowed with health and vitality, a rosy blush stained her cheeks and a smile brightened her face. She rocked pink highlights in her hair, her arms were sleeved with tattoos, and she wore an adorable Hello Kitty dress. Zacharel refused to so much as glance in her direction, had barely even acknowledged her, yet Annabelle battled the urge to walk over there and hug her.

Why?

Better question: Harpies, goddesses, human-looking girls of mysterious origin—what else was out there? What else was Annabelle ignorant about?

A glint of silver caught her attention and Annabelle bent down to pick up…a dagger. Sweet! The battle was over, yeah, but better safe than sorry, considering what surrounded her.

“You’re glaring at my friends, and now you’re armed. Why are you glaring at my friends, human…girl…person?” The redhead stepped into Annabelle’s personal space, claiming her notice by rising on her tiptoes to pat her on the top of her head. “Never mind, I can guess. You think that because they’re possessed, they’re pure evil. Well, news flash, china doll. The demons are evil, but the guys who house them are marshmallows. I’m the real nightmare here.”