Dark Kings (Feathers and Fate #1) - Sadie Moss Page 0,23
water. “You’re missing the point if you think having ungodly wealth is so that you don’t do things. It’s to enable you to do the things you want.”
Trinity blinks at me as if I’ve literally shoved her. Knocked her off balance. I try to hide my smirk by turning back to open the salmon and apply the creole rub to it, but I’m not sure I fully succeed. Not that I care. I’m a sin; it’s perfectly within my rights to gloat a bit. And it’s not every day I get to stun an angel speechless.
“Will you grab the plates?” I ask her over my shoulder. I want to have them ready for when I put the salmon and risotto on.
Trinity nods absently. Without hesitating, she reaches up to the cupboard third from the left, opening it to grab the plates.
Wait.
Hold on just a fucking minute.
How would she know where my plates are? She couldn’t, not unless…
I turn around to face her. “You’ve been watching me, little angel.”
The look on Trinity’s face says it all.
Chapter Nine
Trinity
Ah, frick. Busted.
My breath catches in fear as Beckett turns around. His eyes are dark like a predator’s.
“How did you know where those plates were so quickly?” His voice is almost a purr, and I can’t tell if it’s the purr of a cat with cream or of a tiger about to devour its prey.
“I…” My voice dies out.
Not waiting for an answer, Beckett stalks toward me, and I stumble back, hitting the fridge. Crap. There’s nowhere to run. And I’m weak right now. I don’t want to be, but he’s right, I was injured; there’s no way I could beat him in a fight right now.
“You’re just a little voyeur, aren’t you?” Beckett’s only inches from me now, and he braces his hands on the cabinets on either side of my head, pinning me in. I swallow, trying not to shiver at the heat radiating from his body. It would take only the slightest shift of his large form to press against me, to pin me to the refrigerator.
“I’m—I’m not,” I protest, even though that’s a lie and, well, as an angel I try not to do that.
“You were spying on me.”
“Even if I was,” I insist desperately, my cheeks flaming, “spying is different from voyeurism.”
It’s a stupid distinction to make, maybe. But it’s not like I was watching him for my own creepy pleasure. It’s not like I wanted to see what he did to that actress in this very kitchen.
Thoughts of that night explode inside my brain, making my breath pick up, and I drop my gaze, embarrassment flooding through me at my remembered arousal.
“How long have you been watching me?” Beckett’s voice deepens into a growl. I can practically feel the rumble in his chest, and a new wave of heat pools in my gut.
“A—a week. I can turn invisible,” I whisper, giving in. Maybe if I’m honest, or as honest as I can be, he’ll drop this faster.
“Well, then we’re going to have to add voyeurism to spying, because if you were watching me for a week…” Beckett reaches up, his fingertips skimming my cheekbone. “…then you saw quite a few dirty little deeds. Did you enjoy that? Hm? Did it get you all… hot under the halo?”
He leans in farther, his lips almost skimming my jawline as he moves his mouth up to my ear. “Did you like watching how I made them moan? Made them beg? Do you want to beg for me? Is that why you watched me, little angel? Why were you sneaking around my apartment? What the fuck do you want?”
I’m trembling. I’m hot all over, and I want to deny I saw any of it, claim it didn’t affect me at all. I want to lie—but I can’t, because at that moment, my wings pop out.
Oh, no.
Um, so the thing about angel wings is that they reveal our emotions. It’s why it’ll be extra hard for me to lie or keep secrets now. Because my stupid wings will show what I’m feeling. So if I’m feeling scared, my wings will be all puffed up and arched back ready for defense. If I’m sad, they’ll be droopy.
If I’m turned on, like I am right now, they’re going to burst out of me, all fluffy and luminous.
It makes me feel a whole lot like I’m a fourteen-year-old boy who just popped a boner in algebra class.
Beckett jumps back a little, like he was expecting an attack,