Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(70)
Author: Gena Showalter

BY MORNING, HOLDING ANNABELLE in his arms had sharpened Zacharel’s newfound need into a deadly edge. She had tossed and turned, rubbing her body against his, tracing her hands all over him.

He had done nothing about it. And he wouldn’t, not until he had her pledge to remain with him.

While she showered—and he fought the urge to join her—he summoned Thane and commanded the warrior to procure for her a pink T-shirt and a pair of jeans, as well as new undergarments. Also in pink. Zacharel wanted to see her in the feminine color, and so he would. It was as simple as that.

To his utter bafflement, Thane already had the desired clothing in one of his air pockets. As Zacharel removed the tags, he wondered if the items had been meant for the man’s lovers.

“Do you have an extra set?” Just in case.

“Of course.” Thane handed him the clothing, and Zacharel placed the extra in an air pocket.

“She’ll need these, too, I’m sure,” Thane said, handing him two bejeweled blades.

He claimed them, saying, “Wait here.” Leaving Thane on the balcony, he deposited the first set of clothing in the bathroom, the air thick and misty and smelling of floral shampoo. Even sweeter, Annabelle was singing off-key.

“Loves like a hurricane, something, something, something, bending beneath the weight, something, something, mercy.”

She did not know all the words, he realized, and had to fight a grin. Adorable. But what struck him deepest was that she sounded…happy.

He left before she caught him listening—and enjoying—and returned to the balcony. The door was still open, the chill of dawn seeping inside.

Thane stood on the edge of the railing, at the ready.

“Your next mission is food for her,” Zacharel said.

“I’m her servant now?”

“No. You are mine.”

A pause. “Why am I not offended by this?” the warrior murmured. “Why am I actually enjoying myself?” White wings threaded with gold exploded into motion, and Thane disappeared in the air. He wasn’t gone long, ten minutes at the most, yet he returned carrying a sack overflowing with breads, cheeses and fruits.

“Thank you.”

A gleam of surprise in Thane’s sapphire eyes, followed by a respectful incline of his head. “Anytime. I think.”

Zacharel rattled off an address. “Make sure the owner is home. If he’s not, wait for him. Once you have verified his presence and I have taken your place, you are free for the rest of the day.”

Another thank-you, and Thane again disappeared.

And just as Annabelle emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, He is home whispered through his head.

He meant to acknowledge the words, and would have, if he hadn’t been struck dumb. He could only stare at Annabelle. The steam formed a cloud around her, creating a dream haze. She had dried her hair, the mass hanging down her arms, straight as a board. Pink cotton clung to lush br**sts. I’ve had my mouth on those. The jeans kissed her legs with erotic abandon. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that Thane had nailed her sizes.

She looked so young and fresh, so…innocent. “You like?” she asked.

“More than like. You are beautiful.”

“I can’t take full credit. It’s the pink.”

“It’s the woman.”

Slowly she grinned. “Someone is on his best behavior today.” She glanced at the table piled high with the food, then back at him. “I’m too nervous to eat.”

“You must keep your strength up. I will tolerate no excuses.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” she said with a sassy salute. “And by the way, I take back my best behavior comment.”

“There can be no take backs.”

“Can, too.”

He supposed, now that he’d licked every inch of her, the nature of their relationship would never be the same. She’d tried to warn him; she would never take his orders, and he would just have to like it.

As long as he had her, he would like it.

She picked at the food for half an hour before he grabbed her hand and a banana and led her outside, using an air pocket to shield her from prying eyes. By the time they reached her brother’s home, she’d managed to choke down half the fruit. Not good enough, but it would have to do.

He caught a glimpse of Thane, who was in the process of flying away, when he landed on the porch. Though Zacharel wanted to whisk inside the home, Annabelle insisted they knock and wait for an invitation to enter. Manners. Such a novelty. But Zacharel suspected the brother would not open the door to her, and for that reason, he made sure only his face was noticeable through the windows and peephole by keeping Annabelle hidden.

“Maybe we should go,” Annabelle said, rubbing at the center of her chest.

She did that every time she was nervous. Or scared. Why? “He will not hurt you. I will not let him.”

Her crystalline gaze was grave. “There are a thousand different ways to hurt someone, Zacharel.”

That, he knew well. “There are also a thousand different ways to heal. Trust me in this. Your faith is out there. You said you expect a relationship with your brother to bloom, and you are even beginning to believe it, whether you realize it or not. That’s why you’re here. So, even when it doesn’t look like it’s going your way, continue to believe. If you do not give up, you will see results.”

As he rapped his knuckles against the wood, his robe became a plain white T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting drawstring pants. He waited one minute, two, then knocked again. When that failed to gain results, he rang the doorbell over and over again. He knew Brax Miller was inside; Thane would not have let him leave.

Finally a voice snapped, “I’m coming, jeez.” Footsteps pounded, and in the next blink hinges were squeaking and a tall, leanly muscled male in his mid-twenties was opening the door.

Brax possessed the same blue-black hair as Annabelle, only his was cut short and shaggy. He had uptilted eyes of gold rather than crystalline blue. The eyes Annabelle had once had, Zacharel would bet.

“Yeah?” the man said. He was shirtless, his jeans hastily tugged on and gaping around his waist.

Beside him, Annabelle sucked in a breath. Not that the human heard. He couldn’t sense her in any way. “You are Brax Miller.” A man who had inherited a lot of money after his parents’ death. Money he would blow through entirely within the next year, according to the report Thane had brought him all those days ago—the one detailing Annabelle’s life, as well as her remaining family’s.