The Darkest Night Read Free Page A

over his, buried in her hair.
    “You’re hurting me.” She thought her whimper would make his fingers spring open, but under her hand, his fist tightened.
    “And you are…” He was still so close his hot, harsh breath scalded her bruised lips. “I don’t know what you’re doing.”
    She swallowed against the flutter of panic in her throat. Ex-warden he might be, but it was the sphericanum, not the man, who had her in his grip now. “It’s called kissing.”
    “You’re lying to me.”
    “No, really. It’s called kissing. For a second there, you seemed to get the concept.”
    He released her, too quickly, almost shoving her away. She caught herself, sprawled awkwardly across the bar, and straightened her glasses on her nose. The other glasses were broken on the floor somewhere.
    “Just say no,” she murmured.
    He slammed his open palm on the bar. The counter reverberated under her hands as she eased down to her feet.
    “What do you want?” he demanded.
    “I think you can figure that out.” Shattered glass crunched under her heels. “I wasn’t exactly hiding anything.” Not about that, anyway.
    “Are you working for Thorne?” From the ring of demand in his tone, she wondered if anyone had ever refused him.
    This time she did laugh, loudly. “You really are clueless. Sorry about the kiss then.”
    He muttered something under his breath, something inappropriate for an angelic warden. Even an ex one. “Why are you tempting me?”
    She waved one hand in irritation. “Don’t make it all biblical.” Did it even count as tempting if he resisted so easily? “You don’t represent the sphericanum anymore.”
    “The talyan don’t know what to make of you either.”
    “They shouldn’t be so suspicious. I help them how I can.”
    “They need more.”
    “Don’t we all?” She crouched to sweep up the glass.
    Angelic-possessed humans didn’t have wings, but Fane might as well have flown so quickly and quietly did he arrive behind the bar. He knelt beside her, his big body nudging her aside.
    “Let me do it. You’re going to cut yourself.”
    When was the last time someone had helped her pick up the pieces of anything? She steeled herself against any perilous weakening in her defenses. “What do you care? You just accused me of cahooting with a djinn-man.” She didn’t want to care that he cared, and yet…
    “I don’t want your blood on my hands.” He managed to make it sound like it’d be such an inconvenience.
    “It would be on my hands,” she pointed out. “And anyway, you have enough on your hands you wouldn’t notice a little more.”
    He paused on an indrawn breath, then he let it out slowly as he piled the glass in his palm with precise little clinks. “It was for a good cause, the cause of good.”
    Why the hesitation? Did he regret the demons he’d slain? Or just regret he wasn’t still wielding his flaming sword of retribution? “Whatever,” she grumbled to herself as she stood over him.
    While he finished sweeping up the glass, the warmth of his him seeped into her legs, skin bared between the hem of her skirt and the top of her boots. In the same way he nudged her back with his body, his very presence edged out the cold and dark.
    He dumped the broken glass into the trash can beside the register and washed his hands. The lemony scent of soap cleared some of the lingering boozy air.
    “Thanks for cleaning up,” she said stiffly. “I’ll give your message to the talyan when I see them.”
    “Bella—”
    “I wish you’d stop saying that.”
    “It’s your name, isn’t it?”
    “You always say it like a warning or an accusation.”
    He ran one hand over his face, muffling his apology, such as it was. “That’s the warden in me.”
    “Ex-warden,” she retorted, then winced. What was the point of poking him with the reminder?
    He leaned in. “Ex.” His breath was a warm whisper against her cheek.
    She startled a little, not realizing he’d come so close. “You