Angel and the Assassin
carefully for any
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signs of Angel in the room or the moments when he looked directly at Angel,
indicating the presence of another person.
“Got you!”
Angel and the Assassin
109
Chapter Thirteen
In the bedroom Kael found Angel asleep, curled up naked in the middle of the
bed on top of the duvet. He watched him for a moment and then headed for the
bathroom, anxious to wash off the sweat after his scene with Conran.
“Daddy.” A sleepy voice came from the bed. He turned and smiled at Angel,
who started to sit up. “Has that man gone?”
“Yes, he‟s gone.” Kael came back to sit on the bed.
“I guess you don‟t want me now you‟ve had him, Daddy?”
“Yes, I still want you. You think one fuck will put me out of commission for the
night?”
Angel crawled over to sit beside him and took his hands. “Sir, who is he?”
“Someone who could make trouble for you. But I can work on him now. He
thinks you‟re dead, but he‟ll soon find out you‟re not. I‟ll tell him I found you outside
after I shot Andresen and brought you home because”—he grabbed Angel‟s face and
shook it, smiling—“you‟re so sexy.”
Angel giggled. “Am I?”
“Yes, you are, and when I‟ve had a shower, you can practice sucking my cock.”
Kael rose and continued into the bathroom. He was brushing his teeth when Angel
walked in a few minutes later. “Daddy, I found my clothes in the dungeon, but my
blanket wasn‟t there.”
Kael looked at him in the mirror. “What do you need that filthy thing for
anyway?” He spit and rinsed his mouth.
“I don‟t need it for anything; I just keep it. And it‟s not filthy. It‟s old; that‟s all.
I‟ve had it a long time. Where is it, Daddy?”
“I threw it in the rubbish. It was a rag.”
“What!” Angel burst out. “You threw it away?”
Surprised at such a strong reaction to something so trivial, Kael said, “I‟ll get
you another one if it‟s that important to you. Where do you buy things like that?”
“I don‟t want another one. I want that one. It‟s mine.” His voice rose as he
spoke until the last words came out as a screech. “That is my fucking blanket!”
Kael threw his toothbrush into the sink and grabbed a towel to wipe his face.
“Don‟t you talk to me like that, boy. Don‟t swear at me, and call me Sir!”
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“Sir!” Angel screamed, his face contorted. “Sir, Sir, fucking Sir!” He ran over to
a stack of fluffy white towels piled up on the glass shelves and, with one sweep of
his arm, knocked them onto the floor. “That is my blanket, and you had no right to
throw it in the garbage.”
Anger erupted inside Kael. He had spent an hour and a half playing with a
man he didn‟t give a damn about, all to ensure the safety of an ungrateful teenager
who should be dead. He struggled to keep his voice calm and to keep control of the
situation. “Pick those up now, and put them back on the shelf.”
“Pick them up yourself, you anal-retentive asshole.” As though he were on a
soccer field, Angel drew back one foot and kicked the towels, sending them flying
across the bathroom and into the spotless porcelain bathtub.
Overcome with rage and afraid of what he might do in retaliation for such
disrespect, Kael stood rooted to the spot, his fists clenched. If any other man were
standing there behaving so badly, he would be whipped and thrown out into the
street. He didn‟t know what to do or how to respond, and the feelings of frustration
were overwhelming. He was used to being obeyed. He was certainly not used to
dealing with the emotions and raging hormones of a teenager.
The room fell silent. Angel stared at him, looking suddenly pale. He should be
afraid about what he‟d done and the words he‟d spoken, but he didn‟t look ready to
give up. Kael knew he presented a scary sight. Naked, six feet five inches of muscle
and anger, his jaw was clenched, his teeth bared like a wild dog. He raised a
forefinger and began to wave it at Angel, but he was stuck for words; nothing came
out.
“Go ahead, kill me now. That‟s what you do best, isn‟t it; you kill people?”
Angel said, defiance making him brave. He was on the edge of hysteria, his voice
shaky.
Kael should spank the hell out of him with a good heavy strap. He should have
stuck a scalpel in his jugular the day he met him. “You are being an idiot. It was a
ragged scrap of material. What can
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