Angel Blood

29- Wrath & Hellfire

Gentle hands scoop underneath my legs and cradle my back, pulling me out of my drowsy state.

I pry my eyes open, something squeezing in my chest as they graze a set the same color of steel.

"Go back to sleep," he whispers as he wraps the thin blanket around my body and lifts me against his chest.

"Hm?" I blink as he starts toward the door, the black sky sign that it's still nighttime. "Where are we going?"

"Home," he says as he nudges the already open door with his foot. The evening chill sends a  flurry of goosebumps over my skin and I instinctively curl into his chest to absorb the heavenly warmth of his body.

"Why?" I mutter as I nuzzle my face into his neck. It can't be longer than an hour or two since I've dosed off.

"The blood," he says, his baritone rumbling through me. "It's all over the lobby. Best we're not here when someone calls the police."

Oh. Right.

The hand that cradles my back shifts up to run through my hair. "Sleep now. I'm parked a few blocks away."

I don't hesitate to follow his command. With the heady scent of musk lingering in my nose and the heat of his body soaking into mine, I fade into a deep sleep.

...

I wake up alone. There's no arm slung over my hip, no dip in the bed to indicate that another body lays next to mine. The dark satin blankets are rumpled with use in the space next to me but the mattress is cold under my touch. It unsettles me enough that I get up and pull on a pair of jeans and a sweater before starting down the stairs.

Last night was for reconciliation. Today is for answers.

I peek my head into the lounge from the stairway. Sure enough, a head of dark hair reclines on the leather couch.

He doesn't turn his head but he must hear my footsteps because he says, "Sit with me, angel."

I don't move. Something in his tone makes me nervous—it's different from the warmth of last night. "Are you in one of your morning moods?"

He snorts and then raises his hand up to where I can see it. The wad of cash I'd stuffed into my jeans dangles from his fingers.

Ah. Fuck me.

"Where'd you get this?" he asks, his voice an unnerving state of calmness.

I don't know what to say so instead I just stare at him and contemplate how long it would take him to catch me if I run back up the stairs.

"Angel," he rumbles. "I told you to come sit with me."

"I stole it from your wallet." I keep my feet glued to the last step.

"I think I'd notice two hundred dollars missing from my pocket." He finally turns his head, face carefully blank as he gestures to the spot next to him. "Sit. Now."

He and I know there's no way out of this, so with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I slowly walk over to join him on the couch.

"Good girl," he murmurs even though his eyes are cold with some emotion I can't place. He leers at my bruised knuckles, the wad of cash, then trains his intense gaze upon me. "Tell me what happened. From the start."

I suppress a shiver. How can I explain everything without giving anyone away?

"I ran after I saw you with that woman," I say, looking away from his intense stare and running my fingers over the mottled skin he eyes so warily. "I met a man on the way." He stiffens at that. "He gave me the money. And that's pretty much that."