“Very well. But I must admit, taking care of a female is more difficult than even I imagined.”

“Hey! I am not high maintenance. I’m spunky.”

His gaze met hers for a protracted second. “To a man who has spent centuries seeing to only his own needs, you are indeed high maintenance, but I’m finding I do not mind maintaining you.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ZACHAREL CONSIDERED HIS options. Demons had found Annabelle in the clouds. They’d found her in the cave. Clearly, keeping her underground wasn’t the answer any more than keeping her in the heavens had been. So that left…what?

Knocking her out? No one had attacked her while she had slept. Or…wait. “How long were you in the institution before the demons found you?”

“A month, maybe.”

A month. Her scent and allure must have been masked by the people surrounding her. People, then. People were not a threat but a key.

With that in mind, he flew her to a busy hotel for humans on the outskirts of New Zealand. Obtaining a room wasn’t difficult. He simply misted her through the walls until spying what he wanted: an unoccupied space, with guests on either side, above and below.

“Shower. Warm up,” he told her, then left to procure food and clothing. More than the impromptu bath, she’d had to deal with his declining temperature.

In the hotel’s kitchen he acquired chicken and rice for her and fruit for himself, and snagged a clean uniform from the stack in back, being sure to leave enough money behind to more than cover the cost of both the food, the clothing and the room itself.

He left the uniform in the bathroom, not liking how harsh it felt against his skin. She would be scratched, and the thought did not settle well. He wished he had another robe tucked away, but he had left the extra one in the cave with her purchases. He could have flown to another location, found her something softer, but he could not bring himself to leave the hotel to acquire something better.

When she emerged on a thick cloud of steam, he saw that the clothing was too short for her. She didn’t seem to mind, though, and to be honest, she looked adorable.

Without a word she placed a dagger under a pillow on the bed and one on the nightstand.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Starved.”

They ate in silence, her clean, soapy scent a live wire that connected them. Her hair was wet and slicked back into a tight ponytail, the strands like glistening ebony silk. The style left her face bare, nothing hiding those uptilted, crystalline eyes, those sharp, rose-tinted cheeks or those heart-shaped lips. Actually, adorable was not the right word. She was beauty personified.

What would she look like spread over the bed, her hair a spill of velvet, her eyes heavy lidded, her cheeks flushed with passion and her lips parted as she breathed him in?

“Thanks for the food,” Annabelle said, at last cutting through the quiet. Her voice held traces of exhaustion, elation and…something else, something he couldn’t identify.

“You are welcome.”

Her gaze met his, steady but glassy. “So what now?”

“Now you relax. Too long has passed since you’ve rested.”

“I managed to sleep a little in Koldo’s cave, as well as during the flight here, and really, I’m not tired.” The claim was disproved by her ensuing yawn. “Okay, so maybe I am. My mind’s too active for any kind of rest, though.”

Understandable. Or…on closer inspection, he could see the shadows blooming under her eyes. It wouldn’t take much to quiet her mind, but perhaps she had no wish for it to be quieted. After such a trying day, nightmares were sure to plague her. He wondered if he would be the star of them.

“What do you usually do to help you relax?”

“I wish I knew. In the institution, I was given drugs.”

And then forced to do whatever her doctors had wished. He could tolerate that knowledge less and less. “Climb into the bed and find something to watch. Distract yourself.” That’s what he’d seen many humans do throughout the years.

“Sir, yes, sir.” Keeping an eye on him, she clambered onto the bed and switched on the TV, frowning, flipping channels. Eventually she gave up and pressed Off, then tossed the remote aside. “What will you do? Because I’m guessing you have something to do, or you wouldn’t be pushing me to distract myself.”

He must remain on alert, guard her…think. “I will be composing instructions for my army.” Yes, that, too.

“You don’t require any sleep?” She snuggled into the covers, fluffed the pillows and peered over at him, the suspicion draining from her. Had she expected him to pounce on her?

“Some,” he said, “but not much.”

“Lucky. I despise the fact that I need to sleep.”

Because she was made vulnerable. “I have told you that you have nothing to fear with me. You know I do not lie.”

A beat of silence. A sigh. “I know.”

“Do you?” he asked, peering at her intently. He now had an idea of what she would look like in bed, underneath him—and it was almost more than he could bear.

He stalked to the desk, blocking her from his peripheral vision, and sat down. The chair proved to be a mistake, the high back smashing his wings…that were no longer snowing, he realized. Why?

“I do,” she finally said. “Really.”

He could still see her out of the corner of his eye. Soft, warm, inviting. “Good.” Up he stood and stalked to the room’s only window, gazing through the gap in the curtains.

The setting sun cast pink, purple and blue rays over the horizon. Below that, he saw arcing trees, lush, green grass and a colorful spread of flowers. He’d been here once before. Had thought to fly past, but had stopped to watch the wedding taking place in the gardens.

Two people, pledging to love each other for the rest of their lives, in sickness and in health. Had Annabelle ever dreamed of doing so? With her high school boyfriend, perhaps? Zacharel pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“So…you lead an entire army of angels,” she said through another yawn.

“Yes. There are three factions of the Deity’s angels. The Elite Seven, who were created rather than born, the warriors and the joy-bringers.”

“You’re a warrior.”

“Yes, but as I told you, I believe I am evolving into one of the Elite.” He wondered if the metamorphosis would stop if he failed to continue to please his Deity.

Yes. Yes, it probably would. Most likely, he would not be given the title of Elite until the end of his year of service—if he survived.

Annabelle’s brow wrinkled with confusion. “How can you be given such a title if you were born?”

“One of the Seven was recently killed, and someone must take his place, whether born or created.” Once Zacharel had considered himself a wise choice. Now? Not so much.

“So you guys, what?” Annabelle asked. “Get together and march into battle, slaying demons?”

“Basically, yes. I receive my orders from the Deity, summon my army, and the soldiers come to my cloud. I relay the orders to them, and off we fly.”

“But you’re not the only army who does this, right?”

“Right. There are many angelic armies under the Deity’s command. Most guard and patrol a certain city, and are sent into a full-fledged battle twice a month. Mine has not been assigned to a particular location, but travels the world. We aid humans, fight demon hordes, and anything else we are told.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he and his soldiers were given their next mission. The thought of leaving Annabelle alone hollowed him out. Not that she would be helpless. The ferocious way she fought had astonished—and impressed—him.

“During the interim,” he added, “we are to heal if need be, to train, to hunt individual demons or, if necessary, to aid other armies who request backup.”

“Why are you and your men given more tasks than the other armies? Because you guys are stronger and more likely to win?”

Or because they had less to lose, he mused. “You would have to ask my Deity. He has not yet revealed the answer to me.”

She released her hair from the ponytail, and combed her fingers through the strands. He shouldn’t have noticed, but he’d angled his body toward her, seeking her unbidden. “Maybe I will,” she said. “So how do you find the demons you hunt individually?”

“We can follow their trails of evil and destruction, but most times, as with you, our Deity points us in the right direction.”

“Why didn’t he send an army to the institution sooner?”

“He did. Many times. But soon after the demons were slain, others found you.”

“Wow. I was being helped all along and had no idea. I’d always assumed I was on my own, that I could count on no one but myself.”

“The Most High, and thereby the Deity, always desires to help you humans.”

“I love knowing that. It’s comforting. But you know, even though others were sent, you were the first angel to ever visit me.”

And he would never be gladder for anything. He hoped she was, too.

The covers rustled as she rolled to her side, and oh, sweet heaven, he would have given anything to join her. “Several times, the word consort has been mentioned but no one has told me exactly what that means. I can guess, but since you’re being so accommodating and informative, and since you owe me big-time, will you finally spell things out for me? Please.”

He turned to her fully. Her hands rested under her cheek and the length of her hair draped over her arm. His desire for her thickened.

No, he could not bear this.

You will act the gentleman. “You are not above manipulation, I see.”

“Not even a little.”

He cut off his smile before it could form.

“A girl’s gotta use whatever weapons she can.”

And he would enjoy the use of those weapons, he thought. “Being a consort is the equivalent of wearing a ring when you marry another human. It means you belong to your partner…that you carry his name.”