Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark) Read online

  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.

  “I cannot guess your race,” he finally said. “You appear human, yet you have the demeanor of a Harpy. Therefore, your origins are indeed questionable.”

  Her smile melted into a frown. “You angels and your honesty. It’s beyond annoying.”

  “And yet you will never have to wonder if I truly mean what I say.” He signaled the bartender for another drink for her. A shot of ambrosia-laced vodka, by the scent of it. The sloshing glass arrived a few minutes later.

  She downed the contents and slammed the glass on the tabletop between them. “Mmm, that’s good stuff.”

  “Only the best for my lovers.”

  “I’m not your lover.”

  “But you could be.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Do you want to know what else is good, Cario, woman of questionable origins?”

  One dark brow arched, the
expression somehow softening her features. “If you say your penis, I’ll barf.”

  He shrugged, and tried not to smile. “Then I will not say it.”

  “Well, I won’t take you on, just so you know. Not you, and not any of your friends. Your tastes are legendary, and not at all similar to mine.”

  “You would—”

  “Like it if I tried it, blah blah blah, but the answer is still no. But here’s a question for you.” Her head tilted to the side as she lost herself in thought. “If I said yes, that I’d be with one of you, who would you pick? Yourself or one of your friends? Perhaps the right answer will change my mind.”

  He immediately excluded himself from the running. He might need the distraction, but his boys needed it more and he always, always, placed their needs above his own.

  When they had parted upon reaching the club, Bjorn had sported red-rimmed eyes and lines of strain around his mouth. He could use a release. Xerxes had abstained from sex last night, and though he might not like the touching involved, he still needed the contact. And of the two, Bjorn had an easier time picking—and winning—a female.

  “So Xerxes it is. Very well, I accept. I will be with him,” Cario said with a nod, and there was a gleam in her eyes. One of intrigue and anticipation, and he thought perhaps she had desired the angel all along and that was the reason she had come here so often.

  As happy as he was with her supposed change of heart, he gritted his molars. “I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my head.”

  “That’s nice,” she replied, and he knew she had no plans to stop.

  Well, then, if he couldn’t keep her out perhaps he could make her regret listening. Why do you want Xerxes? Did you see him from afar and fall in love with him? Is that why you’ve come here so often? Is that why you’ve never gone home with another male? Surely you realize how hopeless such a love—

  “Shut up,” she snapped. “I don’t love him.”

  “You must feel something. You certainly signed up for the sex fast enough.” He meant no disrespect, was merely pointing out another truth, as well as expressing his curiosity. Besides, he was as easy as she was and had no room to judge.

  “I won’t talk about him.”

  “Will you try and hurt him?”

  “No. Never.”

  Truth. In one fluid motion he stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go, then.” He would take her to Xerxes, then he and Bjorn would drink themselves into a stupor.

  Cario hesitated only a minute before twining their fingers. He tugged her to her feet and ushered her out of the room, up the stairs, past guard after guard and into his personal hallway, where luxury blended with comfort.

  “I’ve never been up here,” she said, her tone giving nothing away.

  “Nor will you ever be again.”

  “A one-time thing, huh?”

  For her? “Yes.” A mind reader would be tolerated only long enough for climax to be achieved.

  Xerxes, like Thane himself, had had the softer emotions beaten out of him. And an ongoing relationship between two hardened beings like Xerxes and Cario could never work. The two would kill each other. Although…if one of the hardened were shattered…

  Look at Zacharel. Once as cold as ice, he now burned white-hot, placing his Annabelle’s well-being above his own.

  The entrance to Thane’s room opened, the sensors recognizing his identity. Bjorn must have watched him on the wall of monitors, because the warrior stood at the ready with two drinks in hand.

  “Where’s Xerxes?” Thane asked, accepting one of the glasses and draining the contents.

  Bjorn’s gaze slid over Cario, and he nodded his approval. “Checking on his charge.”

  “I’ll handle McCadden and send Xerxes to you.” He gave the female a gentle push toward Bjorn and stepped into the hall, shutting the door behind him. Down the hall he stalked. Xerxes’ door was closed, but heated voices trickled out.

  “—lock me up. I’m sick of it!”

  The voice was unfamiliar to him, which meant the speaker was McCadden.

  “Your feelings matter little. I was not told to make you happy. I was told to keep you safe and out of trouble.”

  “Well, I told you. I’ll leave the Lords of the Underworld alone. I’ll stay away from my goddess.”

  “She isn’t your goddess,” Xerxes shouted.

  “She is! I fell for her. I crave her, and I know she craves me.”

  “And that is exactly the reason you will stay here, in this room.”

  A black curse was hurled, and then the sounds of struggling bodies erupted. Oh, no, no, no. McCadden would pay for daring to challenge Xerxes. And if the warrior vomited after this…

  Jaw clenched, Thane pushed open the doors—these opened automatically only for Xerxes—but stopped short when he saw the outcome of the brawl.

  Xerxes had McCadden pinned, one hand at the guy’s neck, the other holding his wrists above his head. The warrior was breathing heavily, peering into McCadden’s eyes with determination.

  “Do you yield?”

  “Never.”

  “Foolish.”

  “No, just proving a point. Now get off me,” McCadden snapped. “Now!”

  Xerxes jumped off the man with a low growl. He tangled a hand through his hair—but he didn’t vomit. “What point were you trying to prove?”

  “That you can’t force me to do anything.”

  “I can and did. I will.”

  “If you think so, then you are as deluded as you claim I am about my goddess.”

  Thane wasn’t sure how Xerxes could tolerate the other’s touch when all others bothered him. “May I interrupt?” he asked.

  Xerxes whipped around to face him, red suffusing his cheeks. “I’ll beat him into submission if I must,” he muttered.

  “Whatever.” McCadden walked away and slammed a bedroom door behind him.

  Thane arched a brow, but mentioned nothing about the fallen’s defiance. “I found you a woman, my friend.”

  Xerxes cast his gaze to his feet, hiding whatever emotion had sprung in those crimson eyes. “Not tonight. I’m too tired.”

  “But—”

  “No. I can’t. I just can’t.”

  Something was going on with him. Something more than usual. “I will give her to Bjorn, then.”

  A terse nod from the warrior.

  He should leave. Thane knew he should leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon his best friend. How tormented Xerxes appeared. There had to be something he could say to help. “I could use some company. Will you join me?”

  “I— Yes.” He threw a glance over his shoulder to McCadden’s door. “All right.”

  He’d cut himself off before speaking a refusal. Xerxes loved him too much to deny him. Thane knew his friend would have preferred to stay here, trying to garner a vow to behave from the fallen angel, but he wasn’t sure that was wise. The two would fight again, and as on edge as Xerxes was, he might do something he would regret. Like murder the first person he’d…not befriended, that wasn’t the word. Maybe…tolerated, since his torture.

  “I love you, you know,” he told the warrior halfway down the hall. “No matter what, I love you.”

  “As I love you.”

  When Thane reentered his bedroom, he was surprised to find Cario and Bjorn standing across from each other, silent and glaring daggers.

  From one heated scene to another. Well, he’d certainly gotten the distraction he’d craved, hadn’t he. “Something wrong?” Thane asked.

  Both tossed him a scowl, but only Cario answered. “No. Nothing. Just enjoying…your friend’s…wit.” Her gaze snagged on Xerxes. She licked her lips, shifted from one foot to the other. “Hello,” she said, voice now a shimmering whisper.

  His friend gave no reaction.

  The acrid taste of her lie claimed Thane’s attention. She had enjoyed nothing. Grimacing, he strode to the wet bar and filled three glasses with single malt. He downed his and took his friends
theirs, knowing they hated the foul flavor of lies as much as he did. They accepted gratefully.

  “I cannot be with this creature,” Bjorn said, his disgust clear.

  “You were never on the menu,” she replied tartly, gaze still on Xerxes. As tough as she’d looked down at the bar, she now resembled an eager little girl at Christmas, ready to open her presents.