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“Chocolate?” Now Sophia was definitely interested. Of course she’d heard other angels and demons talk about chocolate, but she’d never indulged. “Is chocolate in there?”
“Yes.” Chris’s smile was genuine and changed his stern face into something a lot more attractive. “But if you don’t…”
“Oh, I do.” She took the box with embarrassing enthusiasm. “I’ve never had chocolate.”
“Then you’re in for a treat.” He grinned. “And maybe we could turn over a new leaf? Clean the slate as it were?”
“That’s a lot to expect from a bonbon.” Sophia unwrapped the ribbon and took the lid off the box. Four little balls nestled inside some tissue paper.
“Ah.” Chris’s eyes twinkled. “But it is chocolate.”
She selected one with nuts and sparkly paper over the top and popped it into her mouth. The flavor burst over her tongue in a decadent combination of sweet, bitter, aromatic, and rich. “You’re right.” She was already reaching for a second. “It is chocolate.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Haziel woke to sunlight streaming through the open curtains and on her bed. Her corporeal form felt wonderfully relaxed, her muscles strong and pliant. The pillow beside her still bore the imprint from Wrath’s head. A better angel would feel guilty about what had happened between them—all six times—but she wasn’t that seraph. Ramiel would be horrified if he found out, but if he never asked the question, she would never have to answer it.
Drumming water from the shower in the attached bathroom provided the answer as to where Wrath was. She’d half expected him to have left already but was glad he hadn’t.
Wrath had followed her here. She had kept her deal with Ramiel—sort o. Stretching her arms over her head, and reaching for the bed end with her toes, she relished the delicious snap and crack of her muscles and sinews.
“Good morning.” Wrath appeared in the bathroom door with a white towel wrapped around his waist. His dark hair was wet and slicked back from the rugged planes of his strong face. Muscle along his shoulders and torso flexed and gave her a private dance as he moved in that graceful prowl toward the bed. And he was smiling.
Wrath had a gorgeous smile. She didn’t see if often, but it was all the more arresting for its scarcity.
“Morning.” She tucked her hands behind her head and enjoyed the show. She believed human women had a weakness for a man in a white towel, with water droplets glistening over the defined slabs of muscle and creating small rivulets down the fascinating dips. That and gray sweatpants. Maybe she should ask Wrath if he owned a pair?
Wrath perched beside her hip on the bed. “You look very comfortable.”
“I am.” She toyed with the idea of luring him into the bed with her. Last night should have sated her need for him, but this morning she was discovering that it had done little more than whet her appetite.
Wrath hummed, his eyes taking careful inventory of her face. The sheet pulled taut over her breasts and the outline of her body beneath the covers. “I ordered breakfast.”
“With coffee?” She had a weakness for that bit of human genius.
He chuckled and leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. “With coffee.” He smelled of evergreens and lavender from the soap he had used, and his voice dropped to the husky drawl that had lured her into more than one repeat of his first performance. “And now I’m thinking of a perfect way to spend the day.”
It physically pained her to shake her head. “I have a task to perform, and Ramiel is waiting for me to do so.”
“Ah, yes.” His expression grew shuttered. “The estimable Ramiel.”
He stood, leaving an empty place beside her and a small ache in her chest. “He is my archangel, and I am tasked with serving him.”
“Yes.” The towel clung to the taut dents on either side of his spectacular ass. “The horsemen.”
It wasn’t a betrayal to admit as much. “He wants me to assess how close the horsemen are to waking.”
Wrath turned and dropped the towel. He stood gloriously naked with his hands planted on his hips, glaring at her. “And he sent you?”
“Yes.” Her ebullient mood popped courtesy of Wrath’s sneer. It was not her favorite expression of his. “I am seraph.”
“Exactly.” Wrath turned and grabbed his jeans. He thrust his legs into them as if they owed him three years rent. “He should have come himself.”
She agreed, but she still defended her archangel. “He has more important matters to attend.”
“More important than the four horsemen of the apocalypse waking?” Wrath scoffed as he fastened his jeans and grabbed his T-shirt.
“We don’t know how critical the situation is here.” She climbed from the bed. “Hence, me being here.”
