Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark) by Gena Showalter Page A

either.”
“Smart girl. You have realized it is better to refuse me than to lie to me. But with your nonanswers, you have told me what I wanted to know. Yes, you wished to see me, to speak to me. But about what?”
Irritating angel. “Look. Either you promise never to lock me up again, or I bail sooner rather than later. And I realize that’s not really a deterrent for you, but those are the only options I’m willing to entertain.”
“Fine. I will never again lock you in this room.”
He offered the vow so easily, she was momentarily taken aback. “Well, okay, then.”
“You will stay?”
“Yes.” For a little while longer, because she wasn’t sure where else to go…or how to return to earth without spilling her guts. “But enough about me,” she said, not wanting him to change his mind. “Did you have to be so mean to that woman?” So much for hiding the fact that she’d been spying.
His gaze flicked to the empty space beside her, narrowed and returned to her. “You watched me.” The words were velvet, soft in a way he probably hadn’t intended. All the while, vapor puffed in front of his face, adding to the erotic-dream factor.
This isn’t your business, Miller . And yet she nodded to encourage him to continue. “I did,” she said, and the scent of him…suddenly clinging to every inch of her…nearly sent her to her knees. How had she missed its allure before this moment?
One of his brows arched, slipping under that fall of hair. “How was I mean to her? I simply told her the truth.”
“You told her the truth, sure, but you did it with no concern for her feelings.” Do not reach out and brush that hair away.
“Yes, and she kissed me with no certainty of my feelings.”
All right. Okay. That changed everything. Annabelle had been forcibly kissed before, and she had hated every moment of it. She had lashed out at the culprit, too. His reaction was understandable.
“Actually,” he added, “if I was mean to her, and I’m not admitting that I was, it was to spare her feelings in the future. Now she knows my thoughts on the matter, without any doubt. She will not make the same mistake twice. Furthermore, the truth might hurt but when used properly, it’s never purposely cruel.”
What kind of woman would take this man on? she mused. A brave one, certainly. And why was she even entertaining such thoughts? His stupid scent must be affecting her brain.
“Are you married?” The notion shouldn’t bother her, but it did. But only because she would feel guilty about finding him so attractive when he belonged to another woman, surely.
“No, I am not married,” he said.
“Dating anyone?” Though the word date seemed way too mundane to be applied to the celestial being in front of her.
“No.”
“Wanting to date anyone?”
“No. Enough questions.”
“Have you ever dated anyone?”
He worked his jaw in irritation. “I have never dated anyone, nor have I ever wanted to date anyone.”
Her eyes widened. “But that would mean…”
“That Jamila’s kiss was my first, yes.”
No way. No way that had been this beautiful man’s first kiss. Despite his standoffishness, someone would have tried to seduce him before now. “Did you like it?” Oh, no, no, no. She had not just asked him that.
“Clearly not.” He moved around her, fingered the silk of the sheets draped over the bed. Very casually, he asked, “Have you ever been kissed?”
She sighed as memories assailed her. The good, the bad and the wretchedly ugly. Before the institution, the kisses she’d experienced had been with a boy of her choosing. Some had been sweet, some had been passionate, but all had been welcome. After the institution… She shuddered with revulsion. “Yes.” Would Zacharel think less of her now?
“Did you like it?”
There’d been no condemnation in his voice, which was the only reason she responded with, “Depends on which kiss we’re talking about.”
He released the fabric and faced her, flattening one of