Sweet Peril (30 page)

He stared at me with roaring passion. “I think a third shower might be necessary,” he said.

A silly laugh wanted to escape me, but there was no humor in his eyes. Only want.

I cleared my throat, spotting our brownie dishes. I gathered everything and rushed from the room, not returning until I heard the water running.

A T-shirt and flannel pajama shorts were not sexy, I told myself as I looked down at my outfit. But when he came out of the bathroom, shirtless with his hair wet, and took in the sight of me sitting on his bed, I felt as if I were wearing something silky and minuscule. I guess the shower hadn’t helped much.

“I should probably sleep on the couch,” I offered.

Please say no.

“No.” His eyes raked me a moment more before he blinked and swallowed. “We only have one night. I want you here with me.” He walked around to the opposite side of the bed. I flicked off the bedside lamp, and dim light from streetlamps spilled through the slats in his blinds. A definite tension permeated the space between us. Moving slowly, we both lifted the covers and slid beneath.

“Come here,” he whispered, reaching out for me. I moved in closer until we shared the same pillow, our bodies as close as they could be without touching. We faced each other, breathing in the same small space of air. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I searched his face, and he searched mine.

“You’re eighteen now,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I whispered back. “Yippee.”

He snorted and scraped a hand through his damp hair. “Do
you remember when you came to that record store in Atlanta last summer and you said all I had to do was say the word . . .  ?”

“And I’d be yours.” I tried not to squirm with excitement. “Yes, I remember.”

“I . . .” He swallowed and I lay my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeats quicken. “I want to . . . cripe, I sound like an idiot. What’ve you done to me?” He cleared his throat and started again, a fiery passion in his darkened eyes. “The thing is, I can’t share you. I need you to be mine. Only mine. When I think of someone else touching you—”

He broke off and made a low sound that sent shivers down my skin.

“Are you saying
the word
?” I blurted.

He closed his eyes and let out a breathy laugh. My heart soared.

“You want to be my
boyfriend
?”

He cringed. “Ugh. That bleedin’ word.”

I threw my arms around him. I couldn’t hold back the smile. I wanted to jump on his bed and sing. It was a stupid label, but there was power in those possessive words:
boyfriend
and
girlfriend
.

“So,” he said.

“So,” I repeated, still grinning.

“Let it be clear. This means no more snogging other people,” he told me.

“Or sleeping with them,” I added.

We both tensed. His jaw worked, and he nodded. “Or that, yes.”

“Unless . . .” I distanced myself enough to see his face. “When we have to work, Kaidan—”

“I’m not working anymore.” His voice was resolute, which terrified me. He wasn’t in a position to defy his father or cause the whisperers to suspect him. He’d never get away with it.

“I wouldn’t consider it cheating,” I said gently. He opened his mouth to protest and I hurried on. “I know you don’t want to work, and neither do I. I’m proud of how strong you’ve been, but if there’s ever a time when it’s necessary, I would understand.”

He looked away.

“You act as if the idea of me working doesn’t bother you.” The underlying hurt in his tone stabbed at me and I took his hand, needing him to understand. I swallowed down a lump of bile.

“I hate it, Kaidan. I can’t stand the thought of it. I want to, like, stab something when I think about that other Anna.” His eyebrows went up in alarm. “Sorry. That was psycho. All I’m saying is that working is better than the alternative. If it comes down to life or death, I
need
you to choose life. I know you wouldn’t do anything if you didn’t have to. I trust you.”

“You trust me,” he whispered. He threaded his fingers into the hair at my temple, an expression of fearful amazement on his face, as if my trust were a gift he’d never expected to receive and one he’d live in fear of losing.

“I don’t deserve you.” His forearm flexed and his hand left my hair as he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling with his hands on his chest. “I’ve never deserved you.”

My insides clenched. “Kai . . . it’s not about deserving. You don’t have to try to prove yourself. I know where your heart is.”

“Of course you can easily say that because you don’t know all I’ve done or all I still want to do. My urges—”

I pressed a finger to his lips. “I wouldn’t love you any less. Right now it’s about moving forward and healing. And, to be honest, I’m ashamed of the things I’ve done this year, and the image I’ve created—like I don’t care about anything but partying—but it’s kept me alive, and I’ve tried to make amends where I can. I hate living a lie.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

He closed his eyes and I pushed myself up, leaning over his face. I ran my fingers across the stubble on his cheeks and brushed the pads of my thumbs over his long, black lashes, making his eyes twitch. Touching him because I could. Because he allowed me to see his insecurities.

“My boyfriend is so sweet,” I whispered. “And not bad looking, either.”

An oncoming grin worked the corners of his mouth, and he rolled toward me. I snuggled down with him, our limbs automatically reaching out to make claim, entwining, regardless of our earlier silent pact to keep distance between us.

“My girlfriend is a party-girl angel who can kick some arse and cook.”

I laughed and placed one last peck on his lips. We lay there with our faces close until we drifted to sleep. Together.

The room was dark and quiet when I awoke. I glanced bleary-eyed at the clock, which read 5:23, wondering if Kaidan had spoken in his sleep. And then I heard it again.

“
Daughter of Belial
.”

Kaidan and I both shot up in bed, and I snatched the leather-clad hilt from his nightstand.

A whisperer with its wings outstretched hung above us.
Even after I adjusted my eyes and noticed his feline features, my heart still slammed in my throat.

My voice shook when I said, “Azael.” I dropped the hilt in my lap and exhaled.

“Belial sends a message,”
Azael said. “
Turn on your phone
.”

“Oh, shoot!” I scrambled from the bed, falling to my knees in front of my bag by the door. I’d forgotten to turn my cell back on after the airport! I couldn’t believe it’d been off all this time. I fumbled around for my phone, finding it and turning it on. Kaidan squatted next to me.

Text messages and voice mails blinked from Patti and Dad and schoolmates. My stomach dropped with regret. Patti had been expecting me home hours ago and she was probably scared to death!

The texts from my father showed a progression from frustration to anger. The voice mails from him were all stewing silences, then hang ups.

I looked up, searching for the spirit. “What’s going on, Azael?”

“He left,” Kaidan said.

“Crap,” I muttered.

I first texted Patti to tell her I was okay. I then dialed Dad and he answered on the first ring. A chill prickled my scalp at the steady fury in his voice. “Do not.
Ever
. Turn your phone off.”

My body wasn’t sure whether to cry or puke or speak. Thankfully, speaking won, though my voice sounded tiny. “I forgot to turn it back on earlier today. I’m sorry.”

“I take it you’re with the son of Pharzuph,” he ground out. I sat up a little taller, remembering how he’d threatened Kaidan
not to have contact with me.

“Yes. I am.” It came out bold. I was glad. And I wasn’t going to reassure him that I’d been “good,” because if he didn’t trust me by now, that was his problem.

There was a long pause as I awaited his temper. But it never came. Instead, he sighed, a deep, guttural sound of fatigue.

“We had our summit last night, as you know.”

“Yes?” I asked, because it sounded like he had news. My pulse spiked again as I wondered if the Dukes wanted to follow up on me after the last summit. Or if that disgusting demon had told them about seeing Kaidan and me together yesterday. Oh, please, no.

“I’m calling from Reno, and I’ve got to get back to Vegas. The summit’s been extended one more day. We’re having a changing of the guard, but that’s not why I called.”

I gave Kaidan a confused look about the changing-of-the-guard thing, and he waved it off like he’d explain later, giving the phone his rapt attention.

“Okay,” I said, prompting Dad to continue.

“Zania’s in prison.”

My heart sank, followed by every other internal organ, making me feel heavy all over. I crawled to the wall and slumped back against it, my eyes burning.

“In Damascus?”

“No. She’d been working farther out, in a more conservative area. She was taken in for being drunk and lewd.”

“What’s going to happen?” I pressed a palm to my forehead.

“Sonellion’s done with her. Says she’s a lost cause now. He’s given them permission to do whatever they want with her.
Most likely they’ll beat her publicly to set an example. Then, if they keep it quiet afterward, they can sell her to the highest bidder. Underground slavery.”

I felt Kaidan tense next to me as he listened with his Neph hearing. Because of his father and Madam Marissa, this was a sensitive subject for him.

I got to my feet and began pacing. “We have to do something.”

“You’re not getting involved in this, Anna. Sonellion will be back over there soon. He’ll be keeping an eye on the situation to be sure she gets what’s coming to her. He’s disappointed that he’s not there to see it unfold himself. There’s nothing you or I can do.”

An image of Zania in prison came to mind, surrounded by men whose disdain for her was nearly as thick as her hate for them. And all the while she’d be going through withdrawal.

I sat heavily on the bed and rubbed my forehead, which was tight with an oncoming headache. Kaidan watched me, leaning against the wall.

“There has to be some way,” I said.

“There is,” Dad replied. “You and I can’t go, but we also can’t afford to lose one of our allies.”

He paused, and I waited, a spring of hope blooming to life inside me.

“Is Kaidan listening?” Dad asked. “I need him to hear this.”

“Yes,” I said. I crinkled my brow at Kaidan, who shrugged.

“All right,” Dad began. “Son of Pharzuph?”

“Yes, sir?” Kai pushed off from the wall, as if my father were really in the room.

“I assume you’ve agreed to ally and help us with this cause in any way necessary?” Dad asked.

“Of course, Duke Belial.”

Kaidan and I stared at each other expectantly.

“Then pack a bag, boy. You’re going to Syria.”

My head whipped up to Kaidan, whose eyes had widened with surprise. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Dad added on a kicker.

“You’ve got to move while the summit’s still on. I should mention you’ll be traveling with the son of Alocer, and I’m putting him in charge. But I’m sure that won’t be an issue for you, will it?”

Oh, Dad.

Kaidan’s hands rounded into fists and uncurled again as he cleared his throat. “No, sir. No problem.”

I stared at the phone, which emitted my father’s low chuckle. A demon-worthy sound. He was
so
not funny.

“The son of Mammon will meet you there from Australia. He’ll lie low and watch your backs. I would send Blake, since he’d be easier to disguise than Flynn, but his father mentioned he’s got a dirt bike race tomorrow. Anyhow. You’ll need to use extreme caution out there because I’m sure Sonellion will have human watchers keeping an eye on the situation.” Dad filled Kaidan in on where to meet his contacts for weapons and instructions once they got to Damascus. “Any questions?”

“Only one, sir.” Kai stood tall and serious. “When do we leave?”

D
ad had already set the ball in motion before he was finally able to get in touch with us. Kope was on a plane to L.A. and would take a cab to Kaidan’s apartment so they could discuss the mission and arrive together. A local makeup and costume artist would also be coming to transform the guys into passable Syrians, under the assumption their getups were for a movie filming.

Kaidan and I had been rushing around his apartment since the phone call. We’d both showered and forced down some breakfast. I helped him pack, keeping it basic since we didn’t know what he’d need. Kaidan had been quiet all morning.

We finally stopped and sat together on the black leather couch, staring at the television and sound system that were turned off. Kaidan’s posture and silence spoke of mounting
tension. Tucking my feet under myself, I angled toward him, wanting to touch him and ease him somehow. With a slow movement, I pushed the wavy locks from his eyes; they were just long enough to twist behind his ear. He didn’t move.

“What are you thinking?” I whispered.

“Hm?” His face pivoted to me, but his eyes remained blank.