Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(31)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Away. Save.”

That harsh voice must have jostled Zacharel’s mind into activity, because his eyelids fluttered open. He struggled for freedom, saying, “The girl.” He coughed, blood gurgling from his mouth.

He was still alive!

A sob of relief escaped Annabelle as she rushed forward. Only, she never reached him. Both men disappeared as if they had been nothing more than holograms suddenly switched off. She experienced a tide of panic and grief, twisting around, searching for any sign of them—and finding nothing.

This is for the best. Koldo would get Zacharel the medical treatment he needed. Without her, the demons would stay away from him and—

Strong arms looped around her and jerked her against an equally strong chest. Instinct kicked in, and she flailed, knocking her head into her captor’s chin. He grunted, but his hold never slackened. Then a curtain of white fell over the forest, nearly blinding her. Next to go was the grass at her feet. For several heartrending seconds, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, a terrible sense of nothingness washing over her.

The panic returned, stronger now, consuming, but as she opened her mouth to scream, a new world painted itself around her. A fairy tale. There was a domed ceiling comprised of light pink crystals, with a diamond-studded chandelier hanging from the center. The walls were textured in the richest of velvets, the windows smoked glass with cinched white curtains that peered into…she wasn’t sure, could see only darkness behind the pane. The floor polished mahogany draped with several plush pastel rugs.

There was so much space, the room was divided into several parts. The sleeping area; the sitting area, where a floral-printed couch formed a half circle on one side of a square glass table, while three chairs rounded things out on the other side; and the kitchen. Fresh flowers spilled from a crystal vase in the center of the dining table, sweetly scenting the air.

As for the bedroom, the same cinched material cascading down the sides of the windows swathed the largest bed she’d ever seen.

Bed. The word echoed through her mind, a reminder of the horrors to be experienced there…and now she was alone with her captor.

Don’t just stand there. Fight!

A surge of adrenaline giving her strength, Annabelle reached up and back, propelling her swollen fist into her captor’s eye. His arms fell away from her, and she spun, intending to pop him in the throat and leave him gasping for air. She came face-to-face with Koldo, but by the time his identity registered, there was no stopping her impetus. She’d already lashed out, the blades she’d forgotten about aimed at his jugular, ready to cut into his spine.

But he must have anticipated the move, because he arced backward, out of harm’s way.

Thank You again, God. Seriously. Her arms clomped heavily to her sides. “I’m sorry, didn’t know, couldn’t stop. Where’s Zacharel?” The words spilled from her without a single pause for breath.

“Put your weapons away first,” he commanded. His voice still seethed with an ingrained fury he couldn’t hide, probably didn’t care to hide. He was all emotion, leaving no room for anything else.

“Okay. Yes.” Though she wasn’t frightened of him—much—her heart thundered against her ribs as she struggled to obey. But no matter what she tried, her fingers remained petrified on the blade hilts, too swollen to move.

“Woman! Now.”

“I can’t,” she said, the words broken. He’d already proven he would do anything to protect his friend. Like, say, throwing a strange female across a forest after breaking her wrists. “My hands won’t cooperate.”

A moan sounded from the bed, snagging her attention. The covers writhed, the pristine material suddenly reminding her of a violent snowstorm.

No, not covers, she realized. Zacharel. He lay in the center. She’d missed him because his robe was as white as the comforter, the blood somehow having washed away in the bare minutes they’d been separated. She rushed forward.

Koldo extended an arm, stopping her.

She lifted the blades, ready to strike at him, despite the fact that they were on the same side, but he used his free hand to pry the weapons from her grip. Only then did he step aside. Trying not to put any weight on her palms, she crawled onto the bed, careful, so careful not to jostle the mattress.

“I’m here, and I’ll guard you as long as I can,” she murmured when she reached Zacharel, and to her surprise, he stilled. “But I’m not sure how long that will be,” she added, more for Koldo’s benefit. “The demons are drawn to me, and apparently they can find me wherever I am. Zacharel can’t withstand another attack. Not like this.”

His wings were still broken, and without the blood caking them, she could see that patches of his feathers were missing. His skin was chalk-white, his only color the dark bruises beneath his eyes. A large puncture decorated the center of his lower lip. The tip of a branch must have slicked straight through to his gums.

“How did I walk away without a scratch, while he looks like this?” she asked softly.

Koldo assumed a post at the foot of the bed. “Did you drink anything before you landed?”

She thought back, recalled how Zacharel had forced that single drop of water into her mouth, and the warmth that had spread through her body, the pain. “Yes. Not much, though.”

“Not much was still enough.”

Excellent point. “What was that stuff?”

Rather than reply to her question, Koldo changed the subject. Must be an angel thing. “He would not settle until I assured him you were alive. He also made me swear to keep you by his side.”

But…but…why would Zacharel do such a thing? “Is there a way to speed his recovery?”

“Yes.”

When Koldo offered no more, she cast him an exasperated glance. “Well? What is it? The water he gave me?” The water he’d emptied into her before tossing the vial away.

Features hardened on a battlefield no longer displayed any hint of emotion, yet still he couldn’t quite hide the fire banked in his eyes. “That information is not something I will share with a human, much less a demon’s consort.”

“I am no such thing!”

“I will not even share the information with a demon consort Zacharel has decided to protect,” he added with a frown, as if he’d just sensed something odd.

Getting answers from an angel was like rolling a boulder up a hill, she mused—a whole lot of work without much reward. “This secret something that will speed Zacharel’s recovery. Can you get it? Or do you already have it?”