Wicked Nights

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ANNABELLE HEARD MUFFLED MALE voices as she searched the bathroom for something to wear. What she found was two washrags and another towel. Not exactly appropriate attire for a meeting with angels. But if she had to pretend dishrag was the latest style, she would. She wouldn’t remain in here like a shameful secret.

Zacharel must have sensed her growing frustration and determination, because he opened the door, peeked inside, winked and tossed in a robe before once again disappearing.

She sighed dreamily, still reeling from what she and Zacharel had done and admitted to each other. Oh, she’d already realized he’d fallen in love with her, but there was something so magnificent about hearing the words. Of knowing, beyond any doubt, that she, Annabelle Miller, had tamed such an exquisite animal. An ice-cold warrior that possessed a streak of carnality that, once unleashed, would never again be caged.

Shaking, she tugged the white material over her body and exited the bathroom.

“—have found Unforgiveness,” Koldo was saying.

Her gaze immediately sought Zacharel. He, too, wore a robe. Lamplight gilded his exposed skin, her angel now a golden statue of perfection and might.

Zacharel watched her rather than his soldier and motioned her over. But apparently standing at his side wasn’t close enough, because he wound his arm around her waist and tugged her so close they practically melded together.

When neither man seemed inclined to restart the conversation, she decided to do it herself. “So where is Unforgiveness and what’s the game plan?”

A beat of tense silence, then, “Hell,” Koldo announced. “He is in hell, and he claims he will release you from his bond if Zacharel agrees to fall.”

Ice thickened Annabelle’s blood, scraping against her veins, stinging. “No way. Just no way.” He would lose his immortality. He would lose his ability to see—and fight—demons. But they wouldn’t lose their ability to see and fight him. “He’s not falling.” To Zacharel, she added, “You’re not falling. Why would the demon want you to fall, anyway?”

“I’ll be easier to kill, less a thorn in his side. But you do not get to decide this for me, Annabelle.”

“You’d be the stupidest man ever to live if you agreed to this. He’s lying. You know he’s lying. He’ll never willingly release me.” That was just a guess on her part, but one thing she knew: demons were incapable of telling the truth.

“For a chance to free you, I would do anything.”

“No!” The fact that Zacharel would even consider falling upset her. Any other girl probably would have jumped with joy, because such a sacrifice proved beyond words that her man loved her. But Annabelle wasn’t any girl, and she knew everything falling would entail. Not just Zacharel’s ruination, but his men’s, too.

He would never be able to forgive himself. He’d already lost his brother, and the fact that he’d been the one to render the final blow was a constant dagger inside his chest, eternally chafing, never allowing him to heal.

“We’re wasting time,” she said. “I want you to go to your Deity—and not fall!”

“So what would you have me do?”

“Ask him to do something, I don’t know, powerful. Mighty.”

He shook his head, dark hair dancing at his temples. “I am due punishment, not aid. Besides, all he can do is grant me permission to enter hell, and that will do us no good.”

“Punishment?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

His hold on her tightened, his way of saying, Not now, woman. Later. In answer, she pinched his hand. Her way of saying, I won’t let this go, angel.

She twisted, cupped his cheeks and forced him to peer down at her. “Remember what we talked about?” she asked, letting the words locking Unforgiveness away remain unsaid. “Why it’s so important to go that route? So talk to your Deity, okay? Please. He gave you an army, a promotion. Angry with you or not, there’s got to be something more he can do.”

He opened his mouth—to protest, she knew.

“If you don’t, someone else might find and defeat Unforgiveness.” If that happened, she would die, and Zacharel would blame himself.

Indecision played through his eyes, now a stormy jade. She was manipulating him, and she knew it, but she didn’t know what else to do. She would rather he fought Unforgiveness than lose everything.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he said.

“Please, Zacharel. Do this for me. For us. Koldo will stay with me.”

He massaged the back of his neck. “Very well. I will talk to the Deity, but I cannot promise a favorable outcome.” His gaze slid to the tall, strong warrior beside them. “Stay here. Guard her. I won’t be gone long.”

Yes!

Koldo nodded.

“I love you,” Zacharel said, and kissed her.

“I love you, too. So much.”

He paused for a moment, as though he couldn’t bear to leave her, then flared his wings and leapt through the air, through the ceiling, disappearing from view.

“Do you hope I will kill you while he’s gone?” Koldo asked. “Is that why you sent Zacharel away? You are bound to Unforgiveness, and by dying, you will kill the demon and save Zacharel in every sense of the word.”

“I hadn’t been, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because Zacharel would blame himself—and you.”

“There are ways to ensure he never knows what happened.”

“Are you threatening me?”

A shrug of those wide shoulders.

To save Zacharel from falling, she would do just about anything. Even die. Zacharel would blame himself no matter what Koldo said, and he would mourn her, but he would live a long life. All in all, that seemed like a fair trade. He would continue to lead his men. Eventually he would meet another woman—Annabelle disliked her already—and rediscover love, heal.

“How did you know I was bound to the demon, anyway?” she asked. She’d only just figured it out herself, and she’d told no one. Nor had Zacharel.

He ignored her question. “Just so you know, a simple stabbing will not kill you, female.”

“Hey, no one said anything about stabbing!” she said with a frown. But if she did this, how would she go?

“But you are willing to sacrifice yourself for Zacharel?”

“Of course.”

“Even fight Unforgiveness?”

“Especially that. Why do you want to know?”

Again, he ignored her question. “Even if Unforgiveness will hurt you before he kills you, yes?”

“Yes, but I could totally win, you know.”

“No, you could not.”

She flexed her biceps. “Do you see these things? I so could.”

“You could not win with those. It would take something else. Something I am not sure you possess. So why are you willing to risk yourself?” he asked, head tilting to the side. “I do not understand.”

Easy. “I love Zacharel, and I want to protect him from harm—even harm he would bring himself. I don’t know if he told you about his brother…?”

A sharp cut of his head in negation. “He did not tell me, but we all know of Hadrenial’s death.”

But did any of them know exactly how Hadrenial had died? If not, she wouldn’t be the one to tell, so she settled with, “The loss nearly ruined him, and he still struggles with feelings of responsibility and remorse. If he falls, his army—you—will be forced to fall with him, and he won’t be able to live with that.”

A hard frown greeted her words. “No. He would have told us.”

This she would have to tell, because it was the only way to make Koldo understand. “He was given charge over you, and his fate will be yours. All of yours.”

“How do you know this?” Anger pulsed from him, as sharp as a blade.

“He told me, and you know he doesn’t ever lie.”

A moment passed in silence. He nodded, as if he’d just made a decision. “You are very brave, Annabelle.” It was the first time he’d ever used her name, and that he’d laced his tone with such respect nearly floored her. “Perhaps you do possess the extra something.”

In the corner of the room, she spied movement, glanced up and nearly screamed. A serpe was coiled in the far corner of the ceiling, watching.

Fight-or-flight kicked in—and fight won. She braced her legs apart and fisted her hands, ready.

But all the demon did was hiss at her, then at Koldo, and slither away.

“Wait here. I shall return, and you shall have what you desire,” Koldo said—and vanished.