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Angel lay back on the bed, boneless, completely sated. Her hair lay tangled around her face, the vulnerability that she somehow managed to keep hidden from the world softening her face and revealing the delicate femininity normally overshadowed by her incredible will.
“That was different.” Breathless, lazy, and incredibly sensual, her voice wrapped around his senses and reminded him that he hadn’t nearly had enough of her.
“Is that what you call it? Different?” He snorted, sitting up on the edge of the bed to pull his boots off.
“Want flowers and praise?” The edge of laughter in her voice caused his heart to constrict.
It was rare to hear her so relaxed, replete. Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever heard it.
Tossing his boots to the side, he turned back to her, his fingers curving over the flesh above her knee as he prepared to stroke his way up.
The surprised cry and painful flinch of her leg away from him had his gaze going to her in surprise. No less, though, was Angel’s.
Hurriedly gripping her below the knee to hold her in place, Duke stared down at the bandage covering the knife wound she’d taken two weeks before. The gauze beneath the waterproof adhesive was stained dark, the entire four-by-four square showing a seepage that would have occurred within only a few hours of her shower.
He knew Angel. She would have changed that bandage the second she dried the water from her skin.
The skin around the covering was red, and when he laid his hand over it, he could feel the added warmth of her flesh.
“What the hell?” He stared up at her, his temper slowly rising at the look of guilt in her gray eyes and the mutinous set of her lips.
“I was going to have you call Ethan tonight anyway,” she bit out, glaring at him as though it were his fault. “It wasn’t like this until today.”
“All day?” Yeah, he knew Angel.
“This morning,” she snapped back, jerking into a sitting position as he rose to his feet, reclosed his jeans, and stomped to the dresser where he’d laid the phone.
“Why didn’t you say anything then?” Duke turned back to her, barely able to believe she’d gone all day without mentioning the problem. “Ethan could have been here earlier.”
The muscle at his jaw jerked, tightening in response to the irritation she could see gleaming in his eyes.
His face was suddenly in hers, almost nose to nose, anger flaring in the mossy green eyes glaring back at her.
“I’ve been rather busy, Duke.” The mutinous look on her face only irritated him more.
She was going to drive him to an early grave, he decided, from sheer worry alone.
“I have a gray hair,” he snarled. “I know you’re the reason for it.”
Lifting her eyes Angel checked the deep black, thick strands of hair. Sure enough, right there on top.
“You’re welcome,” she assured him, a mocking smile curling her lips. “Give me a minute and I’ll give you another.”
“I have no doubt,” he snapped.
He had his cell phone at his ear and gave a clipped, “She’s done it again. Get here.”
“Ethan?” she asked as he tossed the phone back to the dresser. There was something about his expression, the concern in his eyes, that hint of anger, that warmed her, though. That made her feel not so alone.
“Ethan,” he assured her, though he didn’t sound in the least pleased by that fact. “Hell. Angel, what am I going to do about you?”
She had a feeling it wasn’t a rhetorical question, which was too bad, because she really didn’t have an answer for him.
TWELVE
Less than an hour later, a quick knock on the door of the suite heralded Ethan’s arrival. Without a word, Duke strode from the bedroom only to return moments later with not just his brother in tow but Natches and Chaya as well.
Angel glared at all of them. It was bad enough she had Duke watching her, but he just had to bring Chaya in with him, didn’t he?
