Wicked Nights aotd-1 Page 23

  Annabelle blurted out a rough, “I’ll kick you in your lady balls if you don’t.”

  “Bingo!” One by one, Kaia pried her nails loose, leaving little red welts on Annabelle’s skin.

  “I think you’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met,” Annabelle groused.

  “And you’re the sweetest. So tell me,” Kaia said, and popped another bubble. “Is Zacharel a good lover? Because I’ve got big money on the answer being no. Yeah, he has big hands, and he really knows what to do with them on a battlefield, but have you ever tried to banter with him? Dude is clueless. I figure the same cluelessness extends to the mattress mambo.”

  “Uh…” Suddenly everyone in the room was staring at her. Including Zacharel. “He’s, uh, great?” Never had she been more uncomfortable.

  “Oh, man.” Kaia’s shoulders slumped.

  Strider, the demon keeper of Defeat, whooped and fist-pumped the air. “Told you, baby doll. I told you.”

  Kaia spun, piercing him with a glare. “The fact that you won a bet about another man’s sexuality isn’t something to brag about, you idiot.”

  He blew her a kiss. “You’re sexy when you’re a sore loser.”

  She brightened, fluffed her hair. “Of course I am, but I challenge you to prove it.”

  “With pleasure.” The two just kind of leapt at each other, kissing as if the other’s mouth held a lifesaving supply of oxygen.

  Does anyone else find this bizarre? Apparently not. A rapid-fire conversation ensued between the rest of the males.

  Zacharel: “The club?”

  The scarred warrior, Death: “Cleaned out.”

  Zacharel: “The humans?”

  The beautiful Promiscuity: “Unharmed, as requested.”

  Zacharel: “Demons and the demon possessed?”

  The goddess of Anarchy joined in, pumping her fist toward the ceiling as Strider had done. “I killed them dead!”

  Zacharel: “What?”

  Anya, pouting: “Fine. I only killed them dead in my mind. I had Lucien lock them up, as you commanded. Happy now?”

  The big, black warrior with dark eyes said something through sign language before throwing his arm around the pink-haired babe. Amun and Haidee were dating…or whatever it was called when two not-quite humans hooked up?

  Zacharel gripped Annabelle’s shoulders and forced her to face him. When she met his gaze, the rest of the room ceased to exist. There was only her angel and his emerald eyes. He said, “I’m leaving you here, with the warriors and their women. They will not hurt you, and you will not hurt them.”

  First she experienced another wave of panic—he’s leaving you again!—then anger—you don’t need him, you can take care of yourself!—then determination. Who better to teach her about the different kinds of demons than demons themselves? Wasn’t that why Zacharel had morphed into one during their first sparring lesson? Although…could she really believe anything these people told her?

  “Fine, whatever,” she said, trying for a lighthearted tone. “So where are you going?”

  He ignored the question. “Vow it.”

  She sighed. “I won’t hurt your friends—unless they attack me. I vow it. Now, where are you going?”

  “Below. I will not leave the club without you, and no one in this room will attack you,” he said loudly, so that everyone could hear. “They will keep you safe, putting their lives at risk if necessary. Even if they do not trust you. Won’t they?”

  Silence.

  “Won’t they?” he shouted.

  Wow. She’d never heard him raise his voice like that.

  Murmurs of agreement echoed.

  “Just so you know, I’m trustworthy,” she grumbled.

  “Are you?” He gave her a little shake. “It’s too bad you wouldn’t say the same about me. You thought I meant to trade you and desert you here. You actually thought I would let Burden and his men hurt you to save another angel.”

  Anger radiated from him, shaming her. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to think?”

  “Yes, but you didn’t have to do it.”

  “Well. Hmm. Maybe I didn’t. I mean, I don’t actually recall ever saying anything about the stupid plan you refused to share with me until too late.”

  “You thought it. There’s no denying that.”

  Being with a man incapable of telling a lie—a whole lot of awesome. Being with a man who could taste when you lied—sucked the big one. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve never had someone protect me before. This is new to me.”

  He got in her face, his warm breath mingling with hers. “Are you truly sorry for your wrongful beliefs, or are you merely sorry I deduced the truth? Think about that while we’re apart. And when next you see me, apologize again and mean it.” With that, he strode from the room, Amun and Haidee following behind him.

  Annabelle studied the remaining occupants. Immediately they all spun innocently away, some even whistling under their breath, others checking their cuticles.

  This was gonna be fun.

  And yes, that was sarcasm at its finest.

  * * *

  I DESERVE THIS, ZACHAREL thought darkly. He so deserved a woman who would give him as much trouble and grief as he had given his Deity. But his new army was supposed to teach him this lesson, not his lover.

  And she was his lover, despite the fact that they had yet to consummate their relationship. He would tolerate nothing less. But oh, how he missed the days of ignorant bliss, when he hadn’t known the pleasure to be found in a soft, warm body. When he had not known the driving force of anger.

  Yes, anger.

  Anger was like fear, and he did not have to act on it. He could ignore it. Had ignored it, for the most part. But the fissure inside his chest was close to bursting. Annabelle had doubted his integrity, and he had wanted so badly to spank her. Perhaps scream at her. Instead, he had cringed at the very idea of hurting her feelings and making her cry, and so he had done nothing.

  “I’ve got a little piece of advice for you.” Haidee kept pace beside him. Once a Hunter and a keeper of Hate, she now carried a pinch of Hadrenial’s love, all because of Zacharel’s split-second decision to save her.

  A mistake, perhaps. Looking at her now hurt. But he’d wanted her to live, her loss too much for Amun to bear, the warrior’s grief reminding Zacharel of his own after Hadrenial’s demise, and “sharing the love,” as the humans like to say, had been the only way.

  “I have no need of your advice,” he said.

  They pounded down the VIP stairs and into the main part of the club, where Thane, Xerxes and Bjorn waited with Axel.

  Axel, another of Zacharel’s warriors. “I hear it’s party time,” he said with his usual irreverent grin.

  “Only if you consider the torture of another a party.”

  “Uh, isn’t that the classic definition?”

  Until Jamila was found, this man would be her replacement. Perhaps not the wisest choice, Zacharel thought now.

  Concentrate. Burden was pinned to the wall with daggers. A wad of fabric had been stuffed inside his mouth, but his watchful gaze spoke for him. He hated Zacharel, and would have given anything to kill him.

  Soon, Burden would want to die himself. Demons could not be killed if they possessed a human, but one of the pitfalls was that they could be easily bound, and they could feel pain. Lots and lots of pain.

  “Just a sec,” Haidee said, stepping in front of Zacharel to claim his attention. “I’ve decided to give you my amazing advice anyway, because I owe you one. And before you decide to doubt me no matter what I say, I’ll tell you that Amun read your Annabelle’s mind.”

  Amun, the keeper of Secrets. He could speak, but didn’t, because all the secrets he’d unearthed over the centuries would spill from his lips unbidden.

  “You did not harm Annabelle’s mind?” he demanded. Amun could do more than read minds; he could steal memories, ripping them out of their hosts.

  The warrior shook his head—then flipped him off. N
o need for an interpreter. He did not like that Zacharel had questioned his honor.

  “Tell me whatever you wish, Haidee, but make it quick.” Zacharel glared down at her.

  Ever gentle, she cupped his cheeks. “I can read Amun’s mind, which means I know what he knows, and what he knows is that your woman needs to be one of the most important things in your life. Above your job, definitely. Her brother turned his back on her, and her boyfriend dumped her. She hasn’t experienced unconditional love in so long, you’ll crush her if you keep her without committing to her.”

  “I have committed to her,” he protested. After what they’d done in bed, he’d more than committed. He’d decided to keep her. “Besides that, her spirit is strong. No one could crush—” I could, he realized. Annabelle had trusted him at her most vulnerable—until he’d walked away—something she would not have done if some part of her heart were not engaged. She was falling for him, just as he was falling for her.

  If he wasn’t careful with her, he would hurt her worse than she’d ever been hurt, commitment or not.

  “I will consider your words.”

  “Good. You don’t, and I’ll hook her up with Kane. Or Torin. I like her, and both men need a good woman to—”

  Zacharel snapped his teeth at her before stalking across the dance floor to his men and his prey.

  I see the Lords came through for you, Thane said inside his head.

  “There’s no need to hide our words now,” he replied aloud. “Amun can hear what we think.”

  Horror descended over Thane’s, Xerxes’ and Bjorn’s expressions. Axel wiggled his brows at Amun and said, “Like what you hear? I’m thinking special thoughts just for you.”

  Amun frowned.

  Before war could erupt, Zacharel said, “Amun will not pry, and as long as you keep your minds blank, he will hear nothing from you.”

  Amun nodded to support his claim.

  After a long pause, three of the men nodded in return, though they merely gave a stiff bow of their heads. Axel blew Haidee a kiss.

  Wonderful. “Now, then. Let’s do what we came to do.” Zacharel reached out and removed the fabric from Burden’s mouth.

  “You look just like him, you know,” the demon said without preamble, smug, so smug. “I wonder…would you scream just like him?”

  Do not take the bait. “Who?” he found himself asking, despite the fact that he knew the answer. Surely the demon would not dare to go there.

  “Who else?”

  His brother. Burden had dared, suggesting he had been there when Hadrenial was tortured. You knew better than to engage a demon in such a way. And now, all he could think about was the fact that it was possible. Hadrenial had never voiced the names of his tormentors.

  Fury fanned to new life in his chest. How easy it would be to sink a blade into that vulnerable human throat. The body would die, Burden would be freed, captured and returned to hell—or killed. Maybe that’s what Burden wanted, though. To prick at Zacharel until he reacted violently, allowing the demon to take his secrets with him.

  He looked to Amun. His ability to uncover the truth was one of the reasons Zacharel had specifically requested the warrior’s presence here. Oh, Zacharel could taste a lie, but this way, he wouldn’t have to bother with an interrogation, wouldn’t have to risk upsetting the Deity. Amun could simply dig inside the demon’s mind and find his secrets.

  His thoughts are a jumbled mess, Amun signed. A mix of the human’s and his own.

  “I need to know where he’s keeping Jamila, a soldier of mine. I also need to know who he’s working for,” Zacharel said. “Someone told him to hunt and torture Annabelle, and I want to know who that someone is.”

  He’s been thinking about the angel, Jamila, quite a bit. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, angel, but she’s already dead.

  Though he tasted the truth, Zacharel fought it. Ten minutes ago, he showed us video feed of her. Alive.

  The feed was recorded earlier. Amun patted him on the shoulder. I’m truly sorry, but they’ve already killed her. Her injuries were just too severe to recover from.

  For a moment, his heart felt like a hammer against his ribs rather than the organ responsible for his life. He tried to comfort himself with knowledge that Jamila’s suffering was over, but that didn’t help. She was dead, gone, because he had failed to protect her.

  The shame and guilt he felt…they were worse than having bullets in his chest, skin, muscle and bone ravaged. The Deity would penalize him, of course, and he would accept without protest. Whatever was meted out, he deserved.

  I will probe his mind about the other, his leader, Amun signed, but it might take me some time.

  Time was the only thing Zacharel didn’t have. Frustration joined the collage of emotions clawing at him. “Do whatever it takes—anything short of death. And when you find out, have Lucien track me down.”

  “Meanwhile,” Haidee said, stepping forward. Beads of ice welled from her pores, turning her into a living sculpture. “I’ll be helping my man out, don’t you worry.”

  “Wh-what is she?” Burden stuttered with sudden horror.

  “She’s exactly what you deserve,” Zacharel gritted out. Haidee could freeze a demon to its core, and for beings who lived among the flames of hell, that was not a pleasant sensation. Burden’s screams would echo for days to come.

  Or not.

  When he opened his mouth to release his first, Haidee traced her fingertip across the edges of his lips. The ice spread from one ear to the other, silencing him. Any other time, Zacharel would have stayed to watch. This time, he dismissed his men and said to Amun, “If ever you or your brothers wish to be free of your demons, come and see me. I’ve learned how I can help.”

  With that, he strode away to collect his woman.

  There was one more place they could go for answers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THANE AND HIS BOYS SPENT the rest of the day searching for Jamila’s spirit, and when that proved unfruitful, hunting for the prison where her body had been kept, determined to burn it to the ground. But Burden had hidden it well, for they found no sign of the building in the heavens or on earth.

  The need to save what was left of her rode Thane hard, as did fury and a feeling of helplessness. Every minute spent in a demon’s care damaged your spirit, soul and body, and he hated that Jamila had died without a single ray of hope.

  He hadn’t worked with her long, but he had liked her, and had admired her strength. Had she lived to be freed, the experience would have changed her and not for the better, but he could find no solace in that.

  Zacharel blamed the high lord pulling Burden’s strings, and was on his way to speak with someone who might know exactly who that high lord was. For now, there was nothing else Thane could do. He needed a distraction.

  He needed a new lover.

  He prowled The Downfall’s main room. He saw warriors and joy-bringers mingling, drinking and laughing. Not everything was fun and games, though. In shadowed corners, vampires drank from willing victims. A few Harpies occupied spots at the bar. A Phoenix shifter who resembled the one he’d already had gyrated on the dance floor, even crooked her finger at him, but he ignored her. His Phoenix hadn’t recovered from their passions yet, and he would have her rather than one of her kin. If he took another, he would not be allowed to touch the first, no matter how much he paid.

  The Phoenix were that possessive—and that selfish with others of their race—so until she was ready for him, he would try another type of creature.

  Several other females summoned him over, but he ignored them, too. Tonight he wanted someone who would overwhelm his senses and make him forget his failures of the day. He wanted something different from the others he’d had.

  He found that someone locked in a conversation with a male siren. Thane closed the distance and simply towered beside their table, waiting to be noticed. Only took a few seconds for the male to glance up.

  “Excuse— Oh, Thane,
” the siren said, his voice as lovely as a symphony. “Is something wrong?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s taken for the evening. You may find someone else.”

  “But—” Again the siren caught himself. He glanced behind Thane to the guards leaving their posts at the walls to flank his sides. Even if the male knew Thane could not kill him without consequences, the same could not be said about the guards.

  “You’re right. I will.”

  The chair squeaked over the tiled floor as the siren straightened and moved away, careful not to brush against Thane.

  Thane easily slid into place.

  Cario, a woman of questionable origins who had frequented his club quite often lately, glared over at him. Thane kept tabs on all the regulars.

  “I liked him,” she said.

  When she had always left the club on her own? “He never stood a chance with you and you know it.”

  Rather than melt under the charm of his voice, she scowled at him. “You can’t know that.”

  “I know that you’ll like me better.”

  “There’s no way you can know that, either.”

  “Wait. I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer. That wasn’t a suggestion, but a command.”

  Finally, the reaction he had craved. Slowly she grinned. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, the position a mimic of his earlier one. “Why would I like a man who refers to me as a woman of questionable origins?”

  “I did not refer to you as such.”

  “Not out loud, no, but in your mind.”

  Thane frowned. The only being who should be able to read his mind was Zacharel, because Zacharel was his commanding officer. And then, of course, the keeper of Secrets, Amun—something Thane still did not like. But a female? Never!

  He could walk away, he supposed. Should walk away. Two mind readers was two too many in a lifetime, never mind a single day. But he stayed. No one else had caught his interest.

  Cario wasn’t beautiful in the classic sense. She wasn’t beautiful in any sense, really, but she was strong, with chin-length platinum hair, hard features and leanly cut muscle. He would enjoy watching her submit.