She turned and examined his face. Some of her angels could detect human lies, but she didn’t have that ability. “Does that mean you’re going to reinstate Dee?”

Chris chuckled. “Like we could ever get rid of Dee.” He indicated the auditorium. “As much as it galls, her family name is on the deed to this place.”

“Right.” Sophia had trouble understanding the human desire to own bits of land and call it their own, when all life was so interconnected that every place belonged to every life. “But Daniel seems to be a competent guardian.”

“He is.” Chris nodded. “He has a tendency to make up his own rules, but he does the job.”

He stared at the silent theatre. “I’m keeping Daniel here to assist her. With the action this hell gate is seeing, we have no way of anticipating what nasty surprises might come through it.”

“Then why not simply tell Dee that?” Sophia studied his face, trying to discern the truth.

Chris threw her a speaking glance. “Would you tell Dee that you left a guardian here to help her?”

Sophia had to smile. He had a point there. Dee with her fierce independence would not take kindly to being told she was being assisted.

They sat in an awkward silence. She had nowhere to go, so she waited him out.

Chris shifted in his seat. “I saw you earlier.” He cleared his throat. “Acting.”

Ah, here it came. The lecture about how she should not be engaging in human pastimes.

“You’re very good,” Chris said. “Very talented.”

Her mouth dropped open and she snapped it shut. Pride kindled a happy glow in her middle. “Do you really think so?” It was probably the surprise that kept her confession going. “I do love it, and all the others tell me I’m good, but they would have to.”

“The angelic glamour.” He hummed and nodded. “But I am not affected by it, and I am saying you are good.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The silence felt a bit easier now, so she asked, “Do you like the theatre?”

“I do.” He smiled. “My late wife and myself used to make a point of seeing live theatre.”

Her heart went out to him. Humans had to endure so much loss in their lives. “Is your wife…”

“Four years ago.” His face bore the lines of grief carved around his eyes and mouth. “Cancer.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He gave a humorless chuckle. “Yeah. Me too.” He clapped his palms on his thighs and stood. “Anyway, I didn’t come to speak to you to share my life story.” He dug in his jacket pocket and drew out a pale blue box tied with a sparkly silver ribbon. “I came more by way of apology and to smooth the way to future cooperation.” Color stained his cheeks, and he kept his gaze on the box. “It’s silly really.” He looked pained. “But we do need to work together, all of us, to contain this threat. And I thought…” He cleared his throat. “Well, I mean, we humans often use this as a gesture of apology.”

Sophia eyed the pretty box. “What is it?”

“A gift.” Chris held it out to her as if he didn’t quite want to hand it over. “A peace offering if you will. Chocolate.”

“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?”