Dark Intentions [ON HOLD UNTIL SUMMER]

Chapter 5

Xander looked around at the disaster that had once been a quaint little hole in the wall where he enjoyed decompressing. The New Orleans townhouse was his retreat, though he rarely saw it on account of constantly keeping an eye on Sin and negotiating with both Seraphim and demons alike. It looked like someone had released a horde of psychopathic children into the small space. As he wandered through the wreckage he couldn’t help but grimace at seeing his favorite paintings strewn about in shreds.

The damage assured him he’d made the right decision keeping Ezekiel’s identity from her. Had he told her the truth about the seraph she would’ve never done the job without a fight—despite her unwavering loyalties to him. Whereas most demons feared the Seraphim as almighty celestial beings, Sin’s time with just one fallen Seraph had bred a near phobic fear of the entire race. Not that he could blame her. He’d seen her body from when she was left in Azael’s care and the image still left him seeing red.

Another step into the living room brought a crunching sound to his ears. Glancing down he groaned and buried a fist in his hair. Damn woman destroyed everything. Cursing he scooped shards of the crystalline tea platter a Seraph seer had once given him and tossed them towards the trash. The movement twisted his body just enough that he saw the first glimpse of fire beneath a heavy taupe curtain and the soft curve of a tanned shoulder.

The sight of her tangled in the heavy silk curtains was like a faucet suddenly opening to pour any anger out of him. She looked like a delicate child, even with razor sharp talons still curving from each fingertip. Just as beautiful and innocent as the day he first laid eyes on her—a time long before Azael’s care. The sunlight landed on her hair, igniting the fiery undertones leaving a halo of flame around her.

The gown he’d bought for her was ripped to the hip, revealing an empty dagger sheath and the beginnings of a swirling tribal tattoo that he knew climbed from her right hip up to curl around to the back of her shoulder and halt beneath her right breast. It was an intimate piece, one she’d had since before he’d met her. The ink fascinated him. If he looked close enough he could see that the delicate bands of black were actually made up of Archaic Sumerian cuneiform spiraling together. He wasn’t sure if the ones who had steadily tattooed her skin had even been able to read what they were writing.

He often wondered what it meant, but he’d never voiced his wonders. Sin hated it when he saw her nude—her sense of dignity was probably the strangest thing about her considering other immortalias comfort with nudity.

With a resigned sigh, he settled down beside her and lifted her body into his lap so that he could cradle her in her sleep. As if her unconscious recognized he wasn’t a threat she tensed briefly before relaxing. He wondered if she knew how she inhaled his scent with a contented murmur and snuggled against him. Probably not, he mused.

Xander smiled down at her, stroking away the wild locks of hair that threatened to conceal her face from his gaze. She meant more to him than he particularly cared to admit. And she’d most certainly be the last person he disclosed it to.

He reached out and traced the line of her cheek and jaw before whispering, “Time to wake up.”

She didn’t start like he expected. Instead she slowly batted her eyes opened and found his face. Her contented mask slipped away to a bemused scowl as her eyebrow arched. “I was mad at you,” she stated. Despite the conviction he heard in her voice she didn’t move or pull away from his embrace.

“Were you now?” He let his eyes drift around them and chuckled softly. All of the damage was replaceable, to an extent. She, however, wasn’t. Not to his plans. He couldn’t afford her severing their ties quite yet. His features were well controlled when his gaze returned to meet her colored contacts, “are you no longer upset with me?”