He lifted her hair from the collar, his fingertips brushing her nape, making her shiver. His nearness. Definitely his nearness.

He didn’t jerk away, as she expected, but lingered, saying, “Soft.”

Well, what do you know, she thought. He wasn’t as opposed to touching her, after all. “Why did you avoid coming into contact with me before?” she asked, veering away from the subject of demons. Right now, her mind needed a break. “And don’t try to say it wasn’t deliberate. You basically contorted your body to maintain distance, a move I invented to establish boundaries with other patients.”

“I lose track of everything important when you’re near me,” he grumbled.

Everything important, he’d said. Meaning, she was not. Nice. “Such a romantic,” she muttered, slapping his hand away. “You’re lucky I’m not one of those girls who burst into tears at every little insult.”

“That was not an insult.” He frowned, and while she knew he hadn’t meant for his expression to pulse with sensuality, his lack of chill caused just that, an erotic throb inside her, where want blended with need. “And I am not trying to romance you.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Frown deepening, he stepped away from her, at last ending the contact. “Do you want me to romance you?”

Yes. “No.” You’re not very fond of men right now, remember? Not even sexy angel men.

“Then as we were saying.” Zacharel cleared his throat, and even that was steeped with his innate sensuality. “We must kill the demon who made that claim on you.”

Demons again. The break was over.

“When you agreed to be his slave,” he continued, “you gave him permission to do whatever he wanted with you. However, when he dies the marking will fade and the others, the weaker minions, will lose interest in you.”

“So…the hunted must become the hunter?”

“Exactly. If we do not do this, you will never find peace.”

Wait. “You said we.”

“Yes.”

“You’re willing to help me?” He’d promised to train her, yeah, but this was more than training. This was dedication to a cause that was not truly his own.

“Yes,” he repeated.

Gratitude nearly overwhelmed her. “I owe you, not the other way around. Why would you—” She pressed her lips together. If she continued along this line, she might talk him out of helping her. “Thank you. Just…thank you.”

“You are welcome. Once you are free of the demon’s essentia, you can live a long, happy life on your own. I am not saying there will never be another storm; those are simply a part of life. But you will never again experience thunder and lightning like this.”

With his words, the answer to her unfinished question slid into place. Zacharel wanted to be free of her. That hurt, but she wouldn’t complain. Aid was aid, no matter the reason behind it.

“I know you’re going above and beyond duty already, but I need something besides assistance from you,” she said, peering down at her feet. “Will you…well, uh, will you spend the next month with me…away from the heavens unless you have a battle to fight? Without asking me why?”

A pause.

A really long pause.

She glanced up.

Fury and pleasure blazed in Zacharel’s eyes.

Why the fury? For that matter, why the pleasure?

Doesn’t matter.

“Please,” she said.

“I will not ask why you want me out of the heavens. There is no need. I know the way of the angels, and I can guess. I want to know if you negotiated,” he said sharply.

“Negotiated what?” she asked, going for innocence. But wait. Something she’d learned from both Zacharel and Koldo was that when you didn’t want to answer a question and evasion wouldn’t work, you had to make a demand of your own. “Never mind. You will spend the next month with me.”

“Or what?” In a heartbeat he was in front of her, his hand once again wrapped around her nape. He tugged her closer, not giving her time to protest or resist.

“Or…uh…I can’t even speak it, it’s so terrible!”

“A falsehood. You’ll do nothing, that’s what. But, very well. I’ll give you an answer anyway—and I will give you a month of my time.” He said the words silkily, indulgence coated with cold determination in his voice. “For a price. You see, I know how to negotiate.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I WILL HAVE THIS WOMAN, Zacharel thought. If only once, I will have her. I will finally know her taste, and never again will I have to wonder.

When Annabelle’s body stood flush against his, he enfolded her with his wings, forcing her ever closer. His newly healed skin and tendons protested the movement, shooting out little aches and pains, but that didn’t stop him. Nothing would.

“What’s your price?” she asked softly. The sweet scent of her drifted to his nose, filled his lungs, branded him.

Your kiss. Your surrender. But did he say the words aloud? No.

He wanted to know what kind of bargain she had made with Koldo—a bargain that required her to stay with Zacharel for a month. A bargain that had provided her with the Water of Life. He also wanted to know why Koldo wanted him out of the heavens for so long.

But again, he held his silence. He liked the outcome, so he would not press Annabelle for answers she wasn’t yet ready to give. Not yet, at least. Those would come; he would make sure of it.

Yes, I will have her. Despite his anticipation for the deed, however, anger coiled inside his bones. He still didn’t want to want her, and he blamed her for reducing him to this…a man willing to forget his duty and forgo his honor simply to learn a woman’s taste.

“We will discuss the terms once we reach our new location,” he said more harshly than he’d intended. “The longer we stay here, the more danger my warrior faces.”

She studied his features for a moment, searching for…what? “All right. We’ll shelve our little negotiation.” Reaching up, she linked her fingers behind his neck.

Always she surprised him. When he expected her to protest, she caved. When he expected her to cave, she fought him. When he expected—

—thoughts derailing…realigning… She was even closer to him now, as if they were two halves of a whole. The very idea heated his blood, making his insides burn and his skin sweat.

Zacharel.

The male voice echoed through his mind, neither a memory nor springing from his own mind. Thane? he asked, instantly concerned.

Yes.

You are well? And the others?

We were not attacked, but we did engage the demons chasing you.

Good. Did you leave one alive?

After the slightest hesitation, he heard, Yes.

As if Zacharel would protest the coming torture, when that was exactly why the demon still lived. Find out who sent the minions. They came to steal Annabelle.

How is she?

Well. But the only way to keep her safe is to hide her. Therefore, I will be hiding with her. Contact me when you have an answer. And, Thane, he added before the soldier ended the connection. Check on Koldo when you have the chance.

Why? What’s wrong?

“Zacharel?” Annabelle said. “I don’t mean to criticize, but you’re just standing there, staring at me.”

“Not you, but I need a moment,” he replied, but the distraction had severed the link. He tried to open it back up, failed. “Moment over.”

“All right.” Though she radiated confusion, she said, “So, um, again, how do you propose we leave this place?”

Concentrating on her, he said, “The same way we left the institution. My question is, will you enjoy this ride as much?”

He misted both their bodies and flew her through the ceiling, then layer after layer of stone-laden dirt. He hated leaving Koldo, but already he’d skirted the edge of acceptable by placing the warrior on the bed.

Whatever his reasons, Koldo—a warrior given to him because he’d beaten his last commander into bloody pulp—had helped him and thereby Annabelle. Zacharel hadn’t thought to ever come to admire the men and women under his leadership, but he couldn’t deny the fissures in his chest were expanding, making room for more than just Annabelle and desire.

They rose above the surface of grass and flowers, towering trees, and into a midmorning sky, the sun half-hidden behind a thick shield of clouds. Birds flew in every direction, their calls shrill yet welcome.

“I’ll never get used to the beauty,” Annabelle gasped, awe and wonder heavy in her tone.

Yes, she was enjoying this ride as much as the other. How would she react to other things free women could do? Things like shopping, and dancing, and dating.

“Don’t you think it’s beautiful?” she asked.

“I once believed it was, yes, and assumed the beauty would never wilt.”

“We were born into this amazing world, Zacharel. We are meant to protect this land and its people.”

“All I see is the blood of our parents, sprayed over the grass and oceans.”

“They died fighting demons.” Unable to recover from the extensiveness of their wounds. “There is no greater honor than that. How many times have you said those very words to me? So why can you not focus on the purity and innocence shining at us and forget the taint of the past?”

Neither he nor his brother had known the events that would unfold mere weeks after that conversation. Hadrenial’s capture, torture, and after a year of searching, Zacharel’s “rescue” of him. No longer had Hadrenial thought the world a place of splendor and glory to bask in. He’d seen the ugliness, had walked hand in hand with the evil, and he had begun to fear and hate.

“Are you okay?” Annabelle asked. “You tensed up.”

For once, Zacharel wanted to lie. To give voice to the thoughts swimming in his head…would he also erupt? Or worse, cry? He’d told Annabelle about his brother’s death, but not about his reasons for rendering that final blow. If he did, would she erupt and cry? Feminine tears were not something he could handle right now.