I wish I could stop here and drag him to his bed, but the man is fastidious to a fault, so I have to roll him over and clean off the rest of the blood.
I slide my hands under his bulk—one at his hip and another at his chest, and I’m about to heave when he whispers, “Zoe. I can...manage once I can stand. Help me get to my knees first.”
It takes us three tries, and my high school principal, Sister Margaret, would be horrified that I don’t avert my eyes from the very impressive full frontal view of him I get as I help him to the shower and turn on the faucet.
With his hand braced against the marble, he grimaces, then steps under the spray with his back to me. “There is another bathroom down the hall with spare towels and a robe in the linen closet. You are running on pure adrenaline. Unless you want to sleep covered in my blood—which I would prefer you do not as my sheets are all thousand thread count, I suggest you clean up now.”
I’m about to snap at him for not caring if I pass out when he glances over his shoulder at me, a glint in his eyes. “Though I would prefer you join me in here.”
“I’ll be fine on my own, thank you. And I’m not going to sleep here tonight.“
I stalk out of the room, but I swear I hear him say, “We’ll see about that,” as I slam the door behind me.
Sin
She knows. As does Regina and the humans who attacked us. Only two in this realm had any idea of my true parentage before today: Maddox and his partner, Killian. Not even Commander Eve knew.
Now... I fully expect the commander to call at any moment. If she has not done so already. I have no idea where my phone is, or if it is still functional. Certainly someone noticed an angel flying over San Francisco.
The pain from my injuries was so great, I do not believe my glamour hid us well enough. Even so, Regina and her two human minions had plenty of time to see exactly what I am.
As the hot water runs down my aching back, I scour the fragmented memories from my time under Thorn's control. My one act of rebellion. I only managed to hide my angelic origins from him because I refused to accept them myself. But when I dragged him and Regina down to Hell, did he find out then? Or, perhaps, did Lucifer somehow let it slip?
Incubi are capable of flight, but a full-blood incubus has wings covered in skin, not the long black feathers I brazenly put on display. He may not have known before, but he certainly knows now. And that will only stoke his desire to capture me yet again.
When the water runs clear, I wrap myself in a towel and listen. There is no noise from the guest bathroom. No sounds at all. Fuck. If Zoe left, I will have to find her. She is in danger now because of me. Because she was seen with me.
Given how much I took from her, I am amazed she had enough left in her to care for me. And then the truth hits me. I left her alone. She could have passed out in the shower. Or worse...what if she opted for a bath?
Panic shoots through my limbs, giving me speed I should not have to race through the penthouse. I do not breathe until I find her curled on the floor in front of my closet with one of my shirts draped over her naked body.
“Zoe.” On my knees, I cup her cheek and run my thumb down her neck. Her pulse is steady, if a bit slow, and she makes a small sound of displeasure as she tries to bat my hand away.
“Lemme sleep,” she slurs.
“I will. But not here.” I do not have long before I am forced to join her. And when I wake, I will again require sexual energy to complete my healing. Now that I have tasted her, felt her give to me willingly, I wonder how in the world I will ever be satisfied taking from another.
Scooping Zoe into my arms, I relish the warmth of her skin, her scent, and the way she nestles closer to me. But she did not ask for this. To be fed from so deeply, her own energy stores are almost gone. I hurt her, and it does not matter that she offered herself up to me.
It is not easy to maneuver her arms into my shirt without waking her, but after a few moments, I do up the buttons, and she is blessedly no longer bared to me. My dick is hard as steel, and I burn with need for her. I have never felt this way about anyone I have fed from. But my exhaustion grows heavier with each passing second until it overwhelms my arousal.
I barely manage to pull on a pair of boxer briefs before I collapse into bed next to her and draw the blankets over us. With my last shred of awareness, I withdraw my backup cell phone from the nightstand, power it on, and send the commander a message.
Attacked. Need cover story for explosions under James Temple’s building. We are safe, but need rest. Will check in tomorrow.
Eve will find a way to explain the destruction of the garage. As for the angel soaring over San Francisco…no one will be able to explain that.
Eighteen
Zoe
My body aches. Like I ran a marathon without training a lick. Every muscle seems determined to tell me how displeased it is, and stretching my legs feels damn near impossible.
It’s dark, and my brain’s fuzzy. This isn’t my apartment. Or my bed. And...holy shit. I’m not alone.
I sit bolt upright, immediately regretting the motion as the room spins and I collapse back against the pillows with a grunt.
“Zoe.” Sin’s deep voice rumbles to my left, and I suck in a sharp breath. “Stay calm. You are in my bed.”
“Your bed?” Knowing where I am is great and all, but Sin and I are not together. And the only way I’d ever sleep with him is if... “Oh, God. You used your talents on me.”
I try to scramble away, but Sin bands his arm around my waist and pulls me back against him. He’s so warm and solid, and the closeness calms something deep inside me, but it shouldn’t. He…fed from me!
“You gave me permission, Zoe. We would have died. What is the last thing you remember?”
I can barely keep my eyes open. Is he still influencing me? My thoughts wander. Tacos. Orange blossoms. Pain. “We were at Temple’s apartment. The garage.” Large, black wings. Seeing the city from high above. Flying. Oh, my God. We were flying! ”Oh, shit. You’re...you have wings! How do you have wings?” I struggle to free myself from his hold, but he’s too strong, and when his lips brush the shell of my ear, the intimate—and oddly familiar—gesture tamps down my panic enough so I can breathe.
“I am only part incubus. My father was an angel.” His words are quiet and almost resigned, as if he doesn’t want to recognize this part of himself. Or admit to it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I roll over so we’re facing one another, though it’s pitch dark in here, and I can only just make out his profile as he stares at the ceiling.
His body stiffens, and he pulls the blankets over me with dispassionate precision. “I do not tell anyone. And you cannot either.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Shock roughens his tone, and he pushes up on an elbow with a groan. “That is your only response?”
Our brush with death is fresh in my memories again, and I shudder. “Sin, you saved our lives. You flew us out of that garage, past two men and a Fae who wanted to kill us—or turn us into zombies—and halfway across the city. With a piece of fucking rebar sticking out of your back. What do you expect me to say? Besides...’thank you’?”