Angelic (Book 2)

Twenty

There was no greater feeling than absolute power. No greater feeling on earth. To feel as if the world was clutched within your fist, like the people were your puppets, was enlivening.

And Angel was as happy as her endorphin-deprived brain could be.

Why shouldn't she be? Though her sister continued to elude her grasp, it was only a matter of time before the little twit broke apart and came to her. She would make sure of it. One could only go so far until breaking, and after one broke . . .

Angel smiled.

Plus, since abstaining from using her powers, she was the picture of perfect health. The glow was back in her skin, her hair shone, and she'd gained back the pounds she had lost. Having people do the dirty work for her without force was a good choice. She would have to act on it more often.

Heck, she even enjoyed the view of this pathetic Nebraskan landscape. She up and left, wreaked havoc where she sought to, but decided to return. After all, she had a prisoner to keep alive for assurance purposes, and she found herself quite attached to the place.

"That should be the last of those pathetic safe houses," she muttered, as Rex entered her room. She'd acquired a two-story ranch home near the decrepit barn where her prisoner was kept. The older couple had been a nuisance clearing out, especially without her powers, but it had been done.

Angel set down her comb and peered at Rex through the mirror. Her most faithful servant. Her most loyal ally. There wasn't even any manipulation anymore; now he helped her think up elaborate schemes to torment those in her path. And, oh, how she loved it.

"The guards are posted and ready," he said, lowering down to the edge of her bed. "How should we proceed?"

A coy smile twisted Angel's lips. She stood from her chair, dropping her robe, strutting toward Rex in the crimson mid-thigh-length dress she chose for the evening. It was celebratory, of course. She was winning. Always winning. Why not have a little fun?

"Send them away," she cooed.

Rex swallowed hard. "But-"

"Maybe you didn't hear me." She straddled his lap, shoving his chest, and the big, lumbering man went down as if he were light as paper. "Send. Them. Away."

As he retrieved his phone and barked orders, Angel shimmied her way up his long body, nipping his ear. One meaty hand gripped her waist in a bone-cracking hold, but she liked it. Liked it rough.

"It's done," Rex gasped. "That's less protection, Miss Angel."

"You're all I need."

And it was true.

With his brawns and her brains, the two of them were unstoppable.

~*~

Satisfied.

That's what Angel was, from all angles and aspects, as she lay in her bed. The sheets tangled around her bare body, and she held a glass of commemorative champagne. Because, why not?

She would win.

Angel always won.

The lump of blankets stirred beside her. Rex pressed a kiss to her shoulder, fingers trailing up her thigh, and she groaned. "Stop it," she mumbled. "I'm trying to enjoy my champagne."

"Screw the champagne."

Angel cast him a droll look. "You've been screwing me for the last hour."

"Who said I was done?"

She rolled her eyes, tossing back the rest of the bubbly liquid. After setting the glass on the stand by her bed, she stood and pulled on her robe. "There's much still to be done, Rex."