Wicked Nights

Now she watched as Zacharel jerked away from the girl. He growled, “What are you doing?”

Again the stunner conquered the distance, trying to refit her mouth over his. “I’m kissing you. Now kiss me back.”

“No.” Frowning, he set her away from him, and this time, he held her in place. His wings were tucked into his sides, though they arced backward, away from the female. Snowflakes rained from their tips, tiny crystals that formed little piles on the floor. “Why are you kissing me?”

The girl’s sensual confidence died a slow, torturous death. “Because you hunger for me as I have hungered for you these past few months?” A question when she’d probably meant it to be a statement.

“I do not hunger for you, Jamila.”

Ouch. There was such brutal honesty in his tone, even Annabelle flinched.

“But you said…” Jamila floundered. “I thought…”

Oh, honey. Just walk away before he does more than trample on your pride, Annabelle thought, sympathy for the girl momentarily superseding her anger with Zacharel.

“I said nothing to make you think I desired you,” he stated with the same coldness that always infused his words. “You simply assumed. Therefore, now I will tell you plainly. I do not want you. I have never wanted you, and I will never want you.”

Okay, so, wrong again. The man had no feelings.

A sob parted the woman’s lips, and she spun on her heel, her wings expanding in a burst of movement. Hers possessed far less gold than Zacharel’s, but they were lovely nonetheless. She shot into the air and out of the cloud.

He faced the screen Annabelle still watched, and she knew he was headed into her room. Not wanting to be caught spying, she waved the TV screen away. “Go!”

The air thinned, until only the cloud wall remained.

A second later, Zacharel stepped through that wall, seeming to appear out of a forbidden midnight dream far better than the ones she’d entertained. Thick, silken black hair tumbled down a flawless forehead and into a gaze that studied her with unwavering intensity. Though his features had been painted with a brush of youth, he appeared beyond ancient, the wintry green of his eyes seeing everything, missing nothing.

A long, white robe draped him, somehow displaying his incredible strength, and oh, oh, oh, but he had brought the chill of the Arctic with him. She drew her arms around her middle for warmth.

He looked her over. Something passed over his expression, something she couldn’t read, before he carefully blanked his features. “You are well.”

I will not be intimidated, and I absolutely will not be awed by his appearance. Annabelle forced herself to unleash the ire she’d been nursing. “And you are a douche. You made me a prisoner, after I told you I’d rather die!”

Far from intimidated, he said, “That is no way to speak to me, Annabelle. I am in a dangerous mood.”

Like she wasn’t? “Well, well, the mighty Zacharel actually feels something,” she said snippily. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

“It is not Christmas, and I suggest you sweeten your tone. Otherwise, I might take you at your word and kill you. How about that?”

She gasped, stepped back until she hit the edge of the bed and almost fell. “You wouldn’t dare. Not after you went to so much trouble to save me.”

Stark self-loathing darkened his eyes. “I killed my own brother, Annabelle. There is no one I will not take down.”

Wait, wait, wait. He’d done what? “You’re lying.” He had to be lying.

He snapped his teeth at her, reminding her of an injured animal in too much pain to accept aid from anyone. “I do not lie. There is no need. People lie because they worry over the consequences of admitting the truth. I worry over nothing. People lie because they wish to impress those around them. I seek to impress no one. You would be wise to remember that.”

How was this the same man who had cared for her so sweetly? “Why did you kill your brother?”

“That is none of your concern.”

She persisted. “How did you kill your brother?”

Silence.

“An accident?”

“Annabelle!”

A chastisement if ever she’d heard one. Fine. She’d drop the subject for now. The wounded-animal thing made sense, though. Whatever he’d done, he suffered for it.

“Why are you letting me stay in your cloud,” she said, “when I so clearly frighten you? And I do frighten you, no matter what you say. Why else would you lock me up?”

A heartbeat of quiet, his anger seeming to drain from him. “You mean to bait me with that question, I think. You hope to embarrass me into apologizing, into vowing never to lock you up again.”

“No.” Well, maybe a little.

“Did you wish to leave my cloud?”

“I wished to leave the room.”

“And failed in your attempt.”

“Your cloud was the failure, not me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why did you wish to leave?”

Rather than lie—or slap him again as he so richly deserved—she tossed his earlier words back at him. “That is none of your concern.”

Were the corners of his lips twitching? “Did you want to see me? Speak to me?”

Every word caused heat to deepen in her cheeks. “I will not answer those questions, either.”

“Smart girl. You have realized it is better to refuse me than to lie to me. But with your nonanswers, you have told me what I wanted to know. Yes, you wished to see me, to speak to me. But about what?”

Irritating angel. “Look. Either you promise never to lock me up again, or I bail sooner rather than later. And I realize that’s not really a deterrent for you, but those are the only options I’m willing to entertain.”

“Fine. I will never again lock you in this room.”

He offered the vow so easily, she was momentarily taken aback. “Well, okay, then.”

“You will stay?”

“Yes.” For a little while longer, because she wasn’t sure where else to go… or how to return to earth without spilling her guts. “But enough about me,” she said, not wanting him to change his mind. “Did you have to be so mean to that woman?” So much for hiding the fact that she’d been spying.

His gaze flicked to the empty space beside her, narrowed and returned to her. “You watched me.” The words were velvet, soft in a way he probably hadn’t intended. All the while, vapor puffed in front of his face, adding to the erotic-dream factor.

This isn’t your business, Miller. And yet she nodded to encourage him to continue. “I did,” she said, and the scent of him… suddenly clinging to every inch of her… nearly sent her to her knees. How had she missed its allure before this moment?