Wicked Nights

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ANNABELLE AWOKE WITH A JOLT, jerking upright. She was panting, sweat running down her chest and back in rivulets. The most terrible dream had plagued her. She had become a demon, had raced through a forest and had fought Zacharel.

Zacharel.

With his name came a burst of dread she couldn’t explain, but knew she was supposed to tamp down. Dangerous, she thought.

What was? The emotion? Or Zacharel?

Her gaze darted around. She was in another hotel room, alone. I should run. I have to run. She didn’t question the thought, just threw her legs over the side of the bed. Before she could unfold to a stand, Zacharel appeared in front of her, his expression unreadable.

The dread spiked.

Stay calm. You have to stay calm. Confused, unsure, she froze. “What are you doing?” she asked.

With a pained moan he dropped to his knees, and suddenly she could read his expression. Agonized, ashamed, regretful, horrified… Just then he was a broken man, the pieces scattered in too many directions to ever find and glue back together.

“I…I… Zacharel?”

“I’m sorry, Annabelle. So sorry.”

In the next instant, the truth hit her with the force of a baseball bat. What she remembered wasn’t a dream. She had turned into a demon. She had raced through the forest. She had fought Zacharel.

Eyes wide, she held out her arms, but a robe blocked her view of herself. She only dared to breathe again when she rolled back the sleeves and saw the light brown of her skin.

Winding her arms around her back proved more difficult, but she had to know, had to—no wings! Thank the Lord! Her back was smooth where it should be smooth and ridged where it should be ridged.

Zacharel watched her without uttering a word. Still on his knees, humbled before her.

Her arms fell heavily to her sides. “You hit me,” she stated flatly. Gone was the dread, but in its place was a bone-deep disappointment.

His head bowed, his chin hitting his sternum. “I know.”

“And you didn’t know who I was.”

“No. I did not.”

He wasn’t even trying to defend himself. He could have told her that type of change in a human was unheard of, something he’d thought impossible. He could have reminded her of her reaction to him, when he had morphed into a demon.

“Why did I transform? How did you turn me back to normal?”

Not once did he glance up. “Tell me what happened in the cloud first. Then I will tell you everything I know, or even suspect. I will hide no detail from you.”

“Very well.”

He listened as she spoke, and every so often, he nodded. By the end, his shoulders were slumped as if a heavy weight rested atop them.

“Clouds can do many things,” Zacharel said, “but they cannot change a human into a demon. The demon lied about that part. Nor would a minion have had the power to do such a thing.”

“But then how could I have changed if it wasn’t the cloud or the demon?” Dread shot through her, soon chilling every part of her. “Does that mean I’m no longer a human, and my outside was just catching up with my insides?”

“Possibly. I think, when you were marked, more was done to you than either of us realized. I think the demon replaced a piece of your spirit.”

No, surely not. She would have known. Right? “How is that possible?”

“He would have reached inside your body with a spiritual hand, and, like a blade can remove a limb, taken what he wanted. Probably just a small portion, no bigger than a dime. He would then have replaced that piece with one of his own, exchanging the two, bonding you far more than a married couple…melding you.”

White-hot fury exploded through her, completely overshadowing the dread, and she found herself beating at Zacharel’s shoulders. “For the last time, I’m not married to the demon who murdered my parents! I’m not! And I’m not melded, either!”

He never lifted a hand in defense. “If that was indeed done to you, your life is linked to his. As long as he lives, you live. As long as you live, he lives. I had not considered that possibility before, but it is clear to me now.”

Questions rained through her mind, her actions slowing…stopping. “But…but… Why send other demons after me? If I died, he would have died.”

“Remember when Thane mentioned something blocked him and others from taking you physically? I believe that same something prevented them from rendering a killing blow, as well.”

“But I…I just can’t be melded to him.” And of course, the burn in her chest fired up as it always did when her…negative emotions…got the better of her.

That’s right! The burn had played a part in the change, and her emotions had played a part in the burn.

She told Zacharel, and he nodded, saying, “That makes sense. The only question now is why the demon did it. Without your knowing consent, and the dream would not have provided that consent, he violated one of the highest heavenly laws. Free will.”

Her heart skipped a tortured beat. Something in his tone… “And you’re an enforcer of those laws, right?” That’s what he’d told her during their first meeting, she was sure. And that could only mean…

“No,” she thought she screamed, but the word emerged as a whisper. “No.”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“So you will be the one to carry out his sentence?”

A nod this time, rather than a verbal response.

Another heartbeat was missed because she suspected the answer. “And that sentence is?”

There was a long, tense pause. He looked up, he looked down, then left and right, as if he wanted to be anywhere else. Finally, she heard, “Death.”

Every fiber of her being rebelled at the thought of her own. By upholding the law, Zacharel would be killing the demon, yes—but he would also be killing Annabelle. “How would this…merging—” she gagged “—cause me to change into a demon four years after the fact?”

“I’ve seen the way the Lords of the Underworld come to physically resemble their demons when their own negative emotions overtake them. It’s just as you described. They lose control of their humanity, all reasoning abolished. The demon inside the cloud knew what had happened to you all those years ago, so he knew how to elicit the response he wanted.”

“I agree, I do. I mean, the emotion thing was my idea. But I don’t understand how four horror-filled years could have passed without a single change, and then all of a sudden, boom.”

“You are forgetting that you were drugged for all of those four years, and those drugs were meant to suppress the depths of your emotions. Even when you began to feel things strongly again, the drugs were likely lingering in your system and diluting the full extent of your feelings.”

“But I’ve been over the withdrawals for a while,” she said, clinging to a hope that they were wrong.

“You’ve also been injured or recovering. Weakened.”

Yes, there was that. “But what about the Water of Life?”

“It healed the human part of you, but aggravated the demon part, and it, too, would have slowed your transformation.”

And she’d certainly been aggravated the two times he’d fed her the stuff, hadn’t she.

Hope withered. Her chin quivered, and her eyes welled with tears she refused to shed. She was part demon. The truth whispered through her. She was part demon. It was a scream of outrage and helplessness this time.

Calm, you have to calm. “Will I change again?” she croaked, though she already knew the answer. Could already feel the burn sprouting in her chest.

“With extreme negative emotion…yes, I think you will.”

“Can the demon piece be removed from me? Replaced with something else?” Another spark of hope formed…

“No. Too much time has passed.”

…and was destroyed.

I won’t cry. I won’t.

“The demon you carried through the forest, he had absorbed my brother’s essentia. There was a piece of me in there, too. But I did not die when the demon died because nothing had taken root. And I was able to remove everything from the body without any resistance because that essentia recognized me. What’s in you has taken root and would resist. It would not recognize me, nor want any part of me.”

She heard his unspoken words. If he tried to free her, she would suffer and probably die anyway. “I don’t care about the pain or even dying. Get the demon out of me.” Now!

“You might not care about dying, but I do,” he said simply. “I will not do that to you. Ever. Do not ask it of me.”

Only took a moment to understand his vehemence. He still suffered over doing the same to his brother, and could withstand no more. So no, she couldn’t, wouldn’t ask it of him. “Wh-what should I do, then?”

“I will find the high lord. I will lock him away.” Zacharel rested his head in her lap, his arms wrapping around her waist. His body began to shake. “I am sorry for this, Annabelle. So very sorry.”

She felt something wet and warm saturate the fabric of her robe, and frowned. Tears? No. No, this strong, proud warrior could not be crying. “You would lock him away rather than kill him, despite your law and your orders?”

“For you, I will do anything.” He looked up at her, lashes spiky and eyes glassed. He was crying. “And I give you my vow, here and now, Annabelle, that I will not kill you. I will not allow another angel to kill you.”

And he would probably be killed for his own crimes in the process. “Don’t do that.”

He rushed on. “Somehow, someway, I will find the demon who did this to you. I will lock him away.” His grip tightened on her. “I will do everything in my power to safeguard you always. And if you cannot bear to look upon me, I will do so in secret.”

“No, I—”

“I finally comprehend what the Deity was trying to teach me,” he said, cutting her off, “what I failed to realize all these centuries. I thought I had learned, but still I would have done what I felt needed doing.”

“What are you saying?”

“Collateral damage. The people I have killed and allowed to be killed were demon possessed or cavorting with demons, and I thought their murders justified. But what if they were like you? Innocent? What if it was not just them I hurt in the end, but the people who loved them and still had hope for their salvation? What if there was hope for their salvation? Actually, there is always hope. I know that now.”

His hold on her tightened as his tears fell in earnest. “I am sorry, Anna. Not because you know my sin but because it caused you so much pain.”

Seeing him so torn up soothed her in a way nothing else could have. He cared about her. He felt remorse. Glory, he felt.

Sighing, she sifted her fingers through the silk of his hair. The fact that he had as much reason to hate demons as she did, yet he wasn’t rejecting her now that he knew she was…she was… She couldn’t think the words again. The truth would have to be dealt with, but that would come later. For now, she just wanted to bask in this moment and in the man who loved her.

And he did. He loved her. He might not realize it, having denied his emotions for so long, but she was certain of it—just as she was certain that she loved him, too. He had saved and protected her. He had seen the best in her, and was helping her do the same. He allowed no one to disrespect her, and wanted only the best for her. He would never leave her, and she would never leave him.

Yes, he was a difficult man, a complex man, and he wasn’t used to the emotions he was now experiencing, or even softness. But he gave both to her, and she would give both right back to him.

He was a part of her now, more so than…than… Anyway. He was a beautiful part, a welcome part, strong and courageous and fun to tease. He was tender and gentle, yet hard when she needed him to be.

She cooed at him until he quieted, and though she regretted the need to do it, she finally extracted herself from his hold. He offered no protest, kept his head down, once again refusing to face her.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.” She raced into the bathroom before he could reply.

As swiftly as possible, she took care of business, brushed her teeth and removed her robe. She was naked underneath, and utterly scrubbed clean. So clean, in fact, she sparkled. However the angel robe worked, she was grateful.

Now, for Zacharel. He needed her, and she needed him. They both needed to forget what had happened, what would happen, if only for a little while.

The hinges on the door squeaked as she emerged from the bathroom. Cool air kissed her bare skin, spreading goose bumps along her arms and legs.

Zacharel sat at the edge of the bed, his elbows propped on his knees, his head bent. His wings were spread out, a wealth of gold now without any hint of white. Or snow, she realized. Once again, he’d stopped snowing.

“According to our bargain, I’m supposed to kiss you anytime the urge hits me, and you’re supposed to accept. Right?”

His gaze snapped up. He’d dried his face, but he couldn’t mask the glassiness of those emerald eyes. “Annabelle,” he said on a rumbling breath, looking her over. “After everything that’s happened, you cannot mean—”

“I do.” Slowly she walked to him. When she stood between his legs, she placed her hands on his shoulders. His muscles were knotted. His gaze moved to hers, as if he couldn’t trust himself to continue peering at the rest of her.

“I want to be with you,” she said. She frowned as a thought hit her. “Unless you’re not allowed to be with a woman melded to a—” Her lips pressed together in a thin line. She didn’t want to think the words, and she didn’t want to say them. “It’s okay if you can’t. I’ll just—”

In a rush of motion, Zacharel had his arms around her, and her feet kicked out from under her. She tumbled forward, and he positioned her in his lap. For balance, she had to straddle his thighs.

“You are mine,” he rasped. “Only ever mine. I accept all that you are, and we can be together.”

Relief poured through her, a beautiful waterfall. “I’ll make you so happy you said that, Winged Wonder.” Very gently, she pressed her lips into his, a soft melding, a gentle exploration.

“You forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Thank you, Anna. Thank you. And I know, the words are not enough. I will show you how I feel. Let me show you.”

She opened her mouth, and he rolled his tongue against her. His decadent flavor instantly consumed her; he was the finest aged wine, strawberries dipped in the richest chocolate, and as fresh as a newly sprung river.

The kiss remained tender and sweet—until he reclined on the mattress and his hands began to roam. The intimate contact ignited embers of sensation throughout her entire body. Their tongues dueled with more force, their lips pressed with more fervor, and they drank and drank and drank of each other.

He laved her breasts, explored her belly, kissed every inch of her legs until she was writhing. Until he was writhing. Until they were both desperate. Then he turned her over and laved her upper back, explored her lower back, and once again kissed every inch of her legs.

When she could stand no more, the pleasure too much, she pulled his robe from him and urged him to lie down on his back—and she took over. She laved and explored and kissed him. And oh, the taste of his skin… It was as rapturous as his kiss. The sweetest of candies, drugging, addictive…and she knew she would crave this for the rest of her life.

“Anna, I need…”

“More, always more.” Was that slurred voice hers?

“Yes.”

Yes. A word filled with hope. “Take it, then.”

He cupped under her arms, drew her up, parallel to his strong length, and rolled her over. He settled over her, pinned her.

“I want to take, as you said, but I need another kiss first.” He lowered his head and she lifted hers, and then their tongues were thrusting together.

Gentle…firm…hard…wild… The kiss spun out of control. He kneaded her breasts and thrummed her nipples, his skin was like a living flame. A heat so different than what burned inside of her. A heat that would seep all the way to her bones, torching the memory of the demon.

“Another,” he said, his mouth taking and giving, demanding and surrendering. Her nails scraped along the ridges of his spine, between his wings, and her hips arched as she sought closer, deeper contact. She was utterly consumed by this man, and all the happier for it.

“I love seeing you like this,” he admitted.

“Underneath you?”

“All mine.” He moved a hand between their bodies, between her legs. And oh, had he learned how to play her. He knew when to sink in slowly and when to increase his speed. He knew when she needed more…and more… “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Zacharel,” she said on a wispy catch of breath. “Please. All, everything.”

He stilled, a droplet of sweat winding down his temple. “You are never to beg me for anything, Anna.”

“Then you have to… I need…” She bit her lip and rubbed against him. “Please.”

He cupped her jaw and forced her to stare into his eyes. “Me, you need me.”

“Yes.” Always.

He rubbed the tips of their noses together and said, “Will you let me have you?”

“All, everything,” she repeated.

“Everything? Truly? Because I told myself I would not take you until I had your pledge to remain with me. Now, I do not deserve such a pledge.”

“Probably not, but I still give it.” She’d just realized how much she loved him. Like she would really let him go. Yes, she’d once thought to leave him before he could leave her, but that was living in fear, and fear was as much a prison as the institution had been…and so much worse. “Can you pledge the same?”

He peered down at her with utter joy. “I can. I will. You are my first, last and only lover, Annabelle Miller. I will never take another.”

“Oh, Zacharel.” Had more beautiful words ever been spoken? “You are my last and only lover, too.”

“Now I make you mine.” Inch by decadent inch, he sank inside her, claiming her, branding her. When at last he was all the way in, he stilled, strain branching from the corners of his eyes. “I am… How could… Love this.”

“Hmmm,” she purred. “Yes.”

“You belong to me,” he said.

“To you.”

“No other.”

“No other,” she agreed.

His lips found hers, their tongues meeting in a tangled clash. His hands rediscovered her breasts, kneading.

“You feel so good.”

“Yes, but…”

“More?”

“Please.”

“Like this?” He moved slowly at first.

“Yes, please, yes, exactly like that.”

He moved faster. Faster still. Finally, all she could do was wrap her legs around his waist and hold on. He chanted her name over and over, a prayer, a curse, a mooooan he couldn’t quite contain. She groaned with her pleasure. Every moment, every movement, was perfect, utterly soul changing.

“Anna…I’m going to…have to…”

“Give me everything.”

A roar left him, his entire body bowing. He hit her as deep as he could possibly go, so wonderfully deep, and yet she still arched up and tried to take him deeper. As he shuddered with completion, satisfaction found her and she cried out, holding him tight…holding on forever.

Even minutes later, when he fell upon her, heavy and lax, she refused to let go. When he rolled, he took her with him and she ended up sprawled on his chest.

“I have no words, Anna,” he said softly.

“Good.” She didn’t, either. All she knew was that she would never be the same. This would forever change her.

This would forever change him.

He placed a reverent kiss on her temple. “Perhaps I do have two words… Thank you.”

A soft laugh left her. Perhaps a little change was a good thing.