Sweet Temptation (The Sweet Trilogy #4)(79)

Still, I can’t bring myself to be mad. Until Kope chuckles.

“Shut up,” I say, standing. “You give it a go, lover boy.”

He frowns at me as I stalk past him and check out my eye in the mirror. Yep. It’s darkening.

I expect Kope to try a gentle approach, but once again he shocks me. He speaks to her with stern, dominant authority.

“It’s time to bathe, Zania. We will leave the room and you will bathe yourself. Our flight to the U.S. is in less than five hours.”

She wraps her arms around her stomach and cries, “You should have let me die!”

“You were not going to die,” he growls. “Your fate was far worse than death.”

“Just leave me here!”

“Bathe. Now. Or I will put you in the bath and clean you myself!”

She eyes him with malice. He takes a hard step forward and she scuttles back.

“Don’t touch me! I will wash myself.”

“When it’s time to leave,” he says, “you will be presentable. We cannot raise suspicion.”

He barges past me and I follow, closing the door. It’s not until he sits on the bed, gripping the edge with his eyes shut, that his strong façade cracks and he begins to tremble.

I want to tell him he’s done well, but I can’t bring myself. Instead I sit on the other side of the bed in silence. We both relax a bit when we hear Zania step into the water. Then she begins to cry a mournful sound, her teeth chattering as she shakes, and it guts me.

I hate the Dukes. I loathe them with every fiber of my being.

I allow myself to imagine Anna, fierce and lovely, stabbing each of them with the flaming sword as all of us Neph hold them down, until their souls are extinguished forever.

And then another thought smacks me and I’m struck with sudden anxiety.

Where is Flynn?

I whip out my phone and ring him, but there’s no answer. Next I text Anna’s father with the code he told us to use. Belial texts right back.

Get her?

Yes, I respond, but F is missing.

My heart pounds, waiting for his response.

Leave with or without him.

Damn, that’s hard-core, but I suppose I get it. Better to have one missing than two. At this point, with so few allies, we’re playing a numbers game.

Kope looks over, so I show him the texts and he nods. He’s tense, and I understand. We won’t relax until we’re on a plane, far away from here.

I wonder if it’s too early to call Anna. I try to imagine what sort of shenanigans Blake got her into last night. You’ve never partied until you’ve partied with the son of Envy.

I dial her number and lie back, grinning at the sound of her husky, hungover, half-asleep voice when she answers.

“Hello?”

I sigh and focus on her voice. I can’t wait to get home to her.

The rest of the trip is a blur. After Zania bathes and dresses she refuses to speak to us again. Kope miraculously manages to get her to eat three bites of warm flatbread from his fingers.

I don’t need to be a child of Duke Astaroth to see there’s a bond between those two. I let him take care of Z for the remainder of the trip, only getting involved when absolutely necessary. He knows how to deal with her in the way that she needs, and I don’t care for another black eye.

Flynn shows up at the Damascus airport, completely ragged, just before our flight. He’s got a rip in his shirt, and the corner of his beard has started to peel off. I point him straight to the loo to fix himself, glad he’s okay.

When we land in Amsterdam later that day we all change out of our Arab getups into Western wear. Scanning for whisperers and seeing none, we clap Flynn on the back and he goes his separate way, off to do some traveling around Europe before returning to Australia.

Zania looks frail in her loose jeans, as if she can’t manage to stand straight, but it’s clear what a beautiful woman she’ll be when she’s well. Her arms are crossed and she taps her foot furiously as she stares into the tax-free store, her gaze locked on the bottles of liquor. Kopano steps between her and the glass, and she narrows her eyes, which are no longer swollen. They’re now big and dark brown and full of fire. Kopano seems to be drawn to those eyes, though he’s clearly not at ease with her dire need for alcohol.

They stare hard at each other, connected, as if they might break into a round of intense sex right against the duty-free shop. That’d be a show. I bite my tongue against the urge to laugh and tell them to get a room. Saint Kopano would die of humiliation if I said that.

I’m glad when our flight is called. One step closer to seeing Anna again.

During our flight, an attendant sees Zania hunched over, hugging herself, shaking and groaning. Kope tries to play it off as motion sickness, but the flight attendant still seems worried. It certainly looks like an emergency to anyone with eyes.

Kope even tries to rub her back to put on a good show, but Zania yanks away with a yelp. Yeah, these two are going to get this plane grounded if they’re not careful. It’s time for me to work my charm.

I smile up at the frowning attendant and beckon her nearer. She’s probably late twenties. European. She swipes her eyes over me, and a great deal of her worried aura lightens, suddenly forgotten. She leans down and I sit up taller to get closer as I whisper.

“Between us,” I say, “I think my mate’s lady is up the duff, if you know what I mean.”