Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark) Read online

  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.”

  At five feet nine, Annabelle towered over the girl. She lifted her gaze to Zacharel, who stood as unyielding as an iron fence, silently asking if he would get into trouble if she knocked Kaia around. Did no one know the difference between Chinese and Japanese?

  He gave a negative shake of his head. “Never mess with a Harpy.”

  “I still have no idea what a Harpy is,” Annabelle pointed out.

  “A death machine, that’s what,” Kaia said.

  “But…”

  “No buts, Annabelle.” Zacharel looked to the redhead. “And, Kaia. Behave.”

  “Fine. But only because you somehow turned this black as night day into a bright shining light, so I’m gonna do you a solid and obey. Want to know how you did that, huh, huh? Good, I’ll tell you.” She barely paused to pop a bubble with her gum. “You used to give Lysander crap about dating my darling sister, but look at you now. You’re pulling a Paris and dating a Hunter, aren’t you, and they’re the worst of the worst!”

  Pulling a Paris? A hunter?

  Zacharel must have sensed Annabelle’s confusion. “The Hunters are fanatical slayers of the paranormal. They will do anything, even destroy an entire city of innocents, to meet their goals.”

  “I am not a Hunter,” she snapped.

  “That’s what they all say, honey.”

  Zacharel released a long-suffering breath. To Kaia, he said, “Annabelle hasn’t yet learned that a man is not the same as the demon tormenting him, that a man can fight the evil and win, and that too many people believe in acting on what they feel and see rather than believing that they can have more, do better, like the Lords. And I can’t blame her. I have only recently learned this lesson myself.”

  So the Lords had fought against the evil of their demons and won? Such a victory must have come at a terrible price, she thought, remembering the number of battles she’d fought and lost. Respect for them bloomed, and she forced her grip to ease on the dagger—only to realize Kaia had wrapped her hand around her wrist, claws sinking past skin, probably even into bone. Scalding heat radiated from her.

  “You’re too hot,” Annabelle gritted out. Hotter than Zacharel’s hands sometimes were.

  The tiny female smiled unabashedly. “I know, right! But my twin sister is way hotter, I promise.”

  Twin? There were two of them?

  “Kaia,” Zacharel began, as Annabelle said, “Let go of me, tiny tot. Now.”

  “Tiny tot. Cute. But what’s the magic word?”

  “Kaia!” Zacharel and Strider said in unison.

  “Nope. That’s not it.”

  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. No 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 Hadren
ial 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.