Wicked Kiss. Michelle Rowen

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      Chapter 4

      I only had myself to blame. Bishop said I should go. Instead, I insisted on sticking around to help the helpless girl who wasn’t helpless at all.

      Now I felt like a specimen under the microscope as Cassandra had been watching every move I made since we got back to St. Andrew’s, which was the abandoned church in an abandoned neighborhood the team had chosen as their makeshift “headquarters” and temporary hotel. Along with yours truly, the blonde angel swept her appraising gaze over the tall ceiling, stained-glass windows and rows of pews in the main sanctuary. Since there was no electricity, hundreds of candles were lit throughout, giving the area an eerie glow.

      My feet hurt from these heels—which were meant for nightclubs, not brisk walks through the city streets. Still, the pain gave me a focal point. I concentrated on my aching feet rather than the threads of panic stitching unpleasant patterns through my gut. Even though I’d been given an uneasy pass when it came to the team, I still had a lot in common with a mouse in the middle of a group of feral cats. It didn’t matter if they had halos or horns.

      While Cassandra studied me, I studied Bishop. Hard not to. My gaze was always drawn to him when he was in the same room as me. I couldn’t ignore him if I tried.

      I refused to believe it was just because I was attracted to his soul, even if that was his hypothesis for my unearthly infatuation with him.

      I didn’t feel like this toward Colin. Or anybody else with a soul.

      Bishop was different for me. Different from anyone.

      And when his gaze followed Cassandra through the sanctuary as if he couldn’t look away from her, the gnawing ache inside me suddenly had nothing at all to do with hunger.

      The other demons had taken seats in the pews on opposite sides of the church. Kraven sat three rows from the front.

      “Why’d they send another angel?” he asked sullenly, cutting through the silence that had fallen since we’d arrived here. “I thought we were supposed to be all nice and balanced. Now it’s four against two.”

      “An exception was made,” Cassandra replied crisply. “Demons are rarely trustworthy enough to be part of a rare mission like this without causing trouble. Present company excluded, of course.”

      “Don’t try to butter me up now, Blondie. You already said you despise demons.” His lips curled to the side. “It’s almost like you’re trying to hurt my tender feelings.”

      She grimaced. “I apologize. That was rude of me. Truth is, I’ve never even met one before face-to-face.”

      Roth sat in the front row, eyeing her with caution while rubbing the shallow wound at his throat. Demons and angels usually healed much faster than humans, but after the ritual, when the wound was caused by the golden dagger, it was a different story.

      It was more dangerous to a supernatural than any other weapon.

      “Can you heal Roth?” I asked Cassandra. I needed to say something, to be part of the conversation, not just the helpless mouse who lurked in the corner trying not to squeak. “Not that you’d want to heal him, but I was just wondering if all angels had that ability.”

      “We can, in varying degrees of strength. I’m quite a strong healer.” Her gaze shifted to the demon. “Do you want me to heal you?”

      Roth shrugged. “Whatever.”

      Her expression soured as she moved closer to him. “A real charmer, aren’t you?”

      “I try my best.” Roth stiffened as she reached toward him and brushed her fingers against his throat. There was a soft pulse of light and his tanned skin healed right before my eyes.

      “You’re very gifted,” Bishop said. His angelic powers were limited due to his fallen status. He watched Cassandra with a wistful envy that made my heart hurt for him.

      “Now that that’s done we can deal with the problem at hand.” Cassandra turned to the rest of us. “Your mission was to clear this city of its recent infestation of soul-devouring creatures. Yet one is here with us right now. Why?”

      “Good question,” Roth said.

      I wouldn’t underestimate this angel. She might look harmless, but she was anything but.

      At the same time, I didn’t blame her for her confusion. I’d ask the same thing if I was in her position.

      “Samantha’s different,” Bishop said calmly. “She isn’t ruled by her hunger.”

      Kraven snorted at that, and I shot a dark look at him.

      “Something funny?” Cassandra asked.

      “No, ma’am.” He put his laced-up boot-clad feet over the back of a pew bench and crossed his ankles casually. I braced myself, expecting him to share what happened earlier at Crave, but he kept his mouth shut.

      Shocker. But I’d reserve my gratitude for later.

      Bishop raked his hand through his short, dark hair, his gaze flicking to me for a weighted moment before returning to Cassandra. In the shadowy light of the church, I wasn’t sure if his eyes were glowing or if it was the candlelight.

      “Samantha’s important to us,” he continued. “She has a special psychic ability—she can see the searchlights. I can’t because I’m damaged from my fall.”

      “I did hear about what happened,” Cassandra said, her brows drawing together. “I’m pleased you seem very capable despite the misfortune that’s befallen you.”

      “Doing the best I can.”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ