Avenging Angel

by Cynthia Eden

  She licked her lips. Fuck. His back teeth clenched. Could she still taste him? He could still taste her.

  Want. More.

  He’d be having more.

  Her gaze darted to the door behind him. He could all but read her thoughts, but, sorry, angel. She wasn’t getting away from him that easily.

  “I want you,” he told her. The words were heavy, hard, and they seemed to sink into the thick silence that had grown in the small room.

  Her hands clenched into fists.

  Tanner raised a brow and tried to look like the lust wasn’t ripping him apart. “Based on the way you kissed me back, I’d say you want me, too.”

  Her chin lifted a good two inches into the air. “Lust is for humans. It just makes them weak. It makes them—”

  “Horny.”

  Her flush got even deeper. She was cute when her face was all pink.

  She also needed to realize something important. Not in heaven any longer. “You’re with humans now. Humans, shifters, demons—you’re walking right with all of us.” There was no holding herself apart anymore. “So it’s time you started dealing with the changes in you.”

  Changes . . . emotions. Needs.

  He could help her satisfy a few needs. Or every need. If he got her in bed, they wouldn’t be crawling out any time soon. He’d make sure of that.

  They’d get to the bed part, later. Now that he knew she wanted him—

  “I don’t . . .” She stopped. Cleared her throat. She wasn’t saying she didn’t want him. Tanner knew she couldn’t say it.

  Angels and their no-lie rules. He rather liked those particular rules. Made things easier for him.

  The whole deadliest-beings-on-earth bit? He could do without that part.

  “I don’t want to be here with you,” she said instead, and he knew those words were the truth. She wanted to escape him and head out in the city on her own.

  “Tough.” It was. She’d have to deal with the situation—and him. He’d been treating her with kid gloves for the last few months. Watching over her. Being afraid to get too close.

  No longer.

  Someone was playing a deadly game with her, and he wasn’t about to sit back and do nothing.

  “Until we find out who is setting you up, you’ve got yourself a shifter shadow.” Thanks to the heavy punch he’d tossed at Jonathan—and the not-so-little matter of Marna’s shooting—he was on administrative leave from the PD for a few days. That leave would give him plenty of time to keep an eye on her and do some detective work in the city.

  He’d hit the places human cops would never think to look, and he would find out what the hell was happening.

  “Someone knows what you are—exactly what you can do—and they want you labeled as a killer.”

  She pushed back her hair. “I am a killer.”

  Maybe. But in this case, in the murders of Michael and Beau, she was innocent.

  Her hand fell back to her side and her shoulders seemed to slump.

  He wanted to keep pushing her, but he knew now wasn’t the time. “Go upstairs,” he told her because she’d been up all night. Up, shot, left in a morgue to play dead.

  Hell of a first date.

  Not that he’d tell her that he counted the night as their first but . . .

  At least he’d gotten a kiss.

  Tanner rolled his shoulders and heaved out a rough breath. “At the top of the stairs, take the first room on the right.” His room. He’d crash on the couch. He could play the gentleman, for a little while at least. “Get some rest, then we’ll start tracking the bastard who set this plan in motion.”

  Her sigh was soft, and a little lost. But she headed toward the staircase.

  In silence, he watched her climb the stairs. She didn’t want to be trapped with him, but for now, there was no choice.

  You want her trapped with you.

  The dark voice came from deep within him. Marna didn’t know it, but he’d been finding reasons to seek her out over the last eight weeks. Just to check on her. She’d had such a rough time. He needed to make sure she was okay. At least that was what he’d told himself.

  At first.

  But the truth was that he’d just wanted to see her.

  His gaze followed the curve of her ass. She’d kissed him back. Some folks said angels had ice water in their veins, but she was different.

  Marna was at the top of the stairs now. She glanced back down at him.

  Tanner tensed. Invite me up. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to hear her say . . .

  “Stay away from me, shifter. Don’t even think about coming into this room.”

  So much for the hot, hard sex he’d been dreaming of. Tanner gave her a little salute. “As long as you promise not to run, I’ll be a good boy and stay down here.”

  Who the fuck was he kidding? He’d never been good.

  Marna turned away and walked into his room. She hadn’t offered him that promise.

  Because she couldn’t lie.

  Hell. It looked like the day would wind up being even longer than the night.

  He’d have to stay on watch and make sure that if his angel tried to flee, then he’d be right there to catch her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Marna carefully opened the wooden door. She’d slept for hours—far longer than she’d intended. When she’d first crept into the bedroom, she’d known that immediate escape wasn’t a possibility. Tanner would have been on guard. So she’d planned to bide her time and wait a bit before slipping away.

  She’d climbed into bed—his bed. There had been no mistaking the rich, masculine scent that clung to the soft sheets. She’d eased beneath the covers and just closed her eyes for a few moments.

  She’d dreamed of Tanner. Hot, too vivid dreams of his naked flesh and his strong hands stroking her body. Kissing him back had been a dangerous mistake. Those kisses had just made the ache in her grow stronger.

  It was an ache for something she couldn’t have.

  The house was silent as she tiptoed to the top of the stairs. The banister gleamed, the wood shining. The walls upstairs were an old, faded brown, but the staircase was in perfect condition.

  As if someone had recently spent a lot of time restoring it.

  It looked like her shifter had a hobby.

  Her fingers slid down the top of the banister, rubbing lightly against the smooth wood.

  Still no sound from below. She could try creeping down there and slipping out the front door, but Marna figured that plan was too risky. Why get too close to Tanner? Better to stay as far from him as possible.

  She headed back into his bedroom and locked the door behind her. The fading light trickling through the window told her that late afternoon was already coming close. Time to get out of there while she still could.

  Marna opened the window and glanced below. The fall from this height would hurt, no doubt, but the pain would probably be no worse than that of a bullet. She’d managed to survive yesterday. She’d survive this, too.

  Her hand rubbed over the now-healed wound. Good thing even fallen angels could recover quickly from most of their injuries. Otherwise, she still would have been in that morgue.

  I’m not ready to die. How many humans had told her that same thing over the centuries?

  Just as she was leaning forward, a knock sounded on the bedroom door. Then, Tanner’s strong voice called out, “You don’t want to do that.”

  Her fingers curved around the window ledge, but she glanced toward the bedroom door.

  “You’re just gonna get bruised and banged up, and I’ll have you—” He kicked in the door, breaking the flimsy lock easily. Then Tanner stalked inside as if he owned the place. Oh, yes, he did. “I’ll have you,” he said again, eyes glinting, “before you can even run more than a few feet.”

  Her heart slammed into her chest and fear had her tensing, but Marna tried to play it cool. She lifted an eyebrow and asked, “Who said anything about running?” Jumping, maybe.

  H
is lips quirked.

  “The next time you want in,” she told him, turning her back to the window so that she faced him fully, “maybe you should give a girl a chance to answer your knock. You know, before you go all macho crazy and break down the door.”

  A real smile flashed across his face. Wow. She hadn’t realized . . . the shifter was actually handsome.

  He had a dimple in his left cheek.

  Then his smile faded. “I heard you open the window.”

  Shifter senses. She’d forgotten how strong they could be. Marna shrugged and tried to look innocent. For an angel, that shouldn’t have been such a hard task. “It’s hot in here.”

  Tanner shook his head and exhaled on a low sigh. “You’re so careful with your answers.”

  She’d had to learn to be.

  “But I know this game.” He headed toward her, eliminating those few precious feet that separated them.

  She didn’t back up. Showing fear wasn’t an option. Besides, there wasn’t any place for her to go now. Not unless she decided to hop out that window. “I’m not playing a game with you.”

  His gaze swept over her. “Don’t you understand? For now, you need me.”

  That grated, and she said, “I don’t need anyone.”

  One dark brow rose. “We’ll see about that.” His gaze slipped to her hair. For a moment, his eyes seemed to soften. “Damn but you are pretty.”

  What?

  He lifted his hand as if to touch her.

  Marna flinched.

  He stilled. His gaze found hers once more.

  She took a breath and tried to shove aside the memory that had exploded in her mind. “Your . . . claws . . .”

  His claws had come out. Maybe they’d been out from the moment he kicked in that door, but she hadn’t noticed them until he’d lifted his hand. Now, she couldn’t seem to notice anything else.

  His claws were long, curving, wicked sharp. Sharp enough to slice away her life.

  Tanner took a step back. “I . . .” He shook his head. Dropped his hand. Hid both of his hands behind his back. “When I broke through the door, the adrenaline pushed part of the change. The claws were like a reflex.”

  His words barely penetrated. She was remembering another shifter. When Brandt had attacked her, his claws had looked just like Tanner’s.

  She hated the sight of a shifter’s claws.

  He slid back a few more steps.

  She took a few more breaths.

  Her gaze fell to the floor and, behind him, she saw drops of blood. Falling from his hands. Tanner had fisted his hands, and his claws must have cut right through the skin. “Tanner . . .”

  His head lifted. “It’s okay.” After a moment’s hesitation, he raised his hands. She could see the small slices in the flesh of his palms. “They’re gone.”

  His claws were gone. The shifter had his control back.

  Marna rolled her shoulders, and the scars on her back seemed to burn.

  His eyes weren’t meeting hers. “We need to get you some fresh clothes and—”

  A loud crash sounded from downstairs. Tanner whirled and raced out of the room.

  At first, Marna didn’t move at all. Then she heard the roar of “Shifter !”

  It was a familiar roar.

  Another crash seemed to shake the house. Goose bumps rose on her arms.

  As an angel, Marna had always been taught to fear one being above all others. To fear the ancient angel who had fallen after he left a trail of bodies in a vicious rampage.

  To fear the being known as Sammael.

  A being she was pretty sure had just broken into Tanner’s house. That had been his roar. Once you heard Sammael’s voice, you never forgot it. At least, angels didn’t. Angels learned early to remember the things that were the most dangerous to them.

  Marna glanced toward the window. Now would be the perfect time to make her escape. Tanner would be busy—probably fighting for his life against Sammael—and she would be free.

  She just had to leave the shifter and make her escape.

  One of the deadliest paranormals in the city grabbed Tanner by the throat and threw him across the room. “I heard about what you did, shifter.”

  Sammael—Sam to his enemies and the maybe two friends the guy had in town—marched toward Tanner. The guy was an ancient angel, a freaking bringer of hell on earth, and it just figured that he’d be the one who’d busted into Tanner’s house.

  When Sam tried to take a jab at him, Tanner swiped out at the guy and had the pleasure of seeing blood streak down Sam’s chest. Sam might be a badass, but Tanner knew the guy’s weak spots. Sam wouldn’t be taking him down.

  When Sam leapt back, Tanner raised his claws, preparing for another round. “Just what the hell did you hear?” Tanner asked.

  “You killed an angel.” Sam’s voice was lethally soft.

  Huh. Looked like word on the paranormal streets had spread fast. But, technically, he hadn’t been the one to take that shot at Marna. The gossips could have at least gotten that part right. The death charge belonged to the detective who’d wound up with a broken nose. Tanner figured that had been a great way to break in a new partner. By breaking his face.

  Sam closed in on him. “You’re going to suffer for what you’ve done.”

  Perfect. Now he had to worry about Sam going ballistic on him. And Sam ballistic? Not good.

  The Fallen reached for him again. Tanner deflected the blow and plowed his fist into Sam’s stomach. Sam didn’t even grunt at the impact, but Tanner’s hand felt as if it had slammed into a brick wall.

  Maybe he should have used his claws with that punch. This time, he’d—

  “Stop!”

  Both men turned at Marna’s shout. She was halfway down the stairs and her hands held tightly to the banister.

  Sam shook his head. “Marna?” Yeah, that was shock in the guy’s voice. So much for being all-knowing.

  Taking advantage of the Fallen’s distracted state, Tanner punched the guy in the jaw.

  Sam growled and lunged to attack him.

  “I said . . . stop!” Marna jumped the rest of the way down the stairs.

  Sam stopped fighting Tanner. After a moment’s study, he sauntered toward her. “You look good, for a dead girl.”

  Marna stared up at the Fallen with wide eyes. “Why . . . why are you here?”

  “Because he came to get a little vengeance,” Tanner said, understanding Sam’s rage far better than Marna did. She just didn’t have enough experience with emotions. Not yet. He was working on that issue. Soon enough, he’d make sure she understood everything. “One life for another, right, Sam?”

  Sam’s gaze swept over Marna. The Fallen was probably checking her for injuries. “I was told the cops killed you.”

  “That’s what we needed people to think.” Tanner strode to Marna’s side. Didn’t touch her, but he sure wanted to. “As you can see, she’s just fine.”

  Sam didn’t look convinced. “Are you?” he asked Marna.

  “I’m still breathing.” Her soft answer.

  Sam’s eyes narrowed, and, after a beat of time, he offered his arm to her. “Come with me.”

  The hell she would. Tanner fought to pull back his claws and stay calm, for at least a little longer. Control. “She’s staying with me.”

  Sam’s gaze seemed to see too much as he glanced over at Tanner. “Hmmm . . . like that, is it, shifter?”

  Dick. “Someone set her up for murder. Some bastard killed two shifters but pinned the crime on her.” It still pissed him off. “You think I’m just gonna let that go?” Then, before Sam could say anything else, Tanner said, “I’m the cop here.” Not some renegade angel out for blood vengeance. “I’m gonna do my job. I’ll track the bastard.”

  But Sam still had his hand up. Had the guy even heard a word Tanner had said? With his gaze on Marna, Sam said, “I came as soon as I heard what happened. Our kind should stay together.”

  Tanner looked at Marna and was surprise
d to see that she had actually inched away from the Fallen—and closer to me.

  Tanner figured he must be the lesser evil in the room. Nice change of pace.

  “I want to know who’s doing this to me.” Her shoulders straightened. “I will know.” Determination roughened her words. “I won’t be leaving New Orleans until I figure out what’s happening and why it’s happening.”

  Well, well. It looked like his angel wasn’t going to turn tail and run after all. Maybe he wouldn’t have to chain her to his side, either.

  Pity.

  He realized that Sam didn’t appear particularly surprised to hear about the murders. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Tanner charged, “You knew that those two shifters got taken out.”

  “Shifter deaths are hardly surprising.” Sam shrugged, looking completely careless. “When I heard, I thought she was just getting some payback.” His eyes raked Marna. “But that wasn’t the way of it?”

  “No.” Quiet. Firm.

  Sam nodded. “Then we’ll find out who’s doing the killing. I can help you.”

  Tanner didn’t want the Fallen close to Marna, but he knew just how powerful Sam’s reach could be. “If you hear anything, you tell me.” Sam had missed his whole I’m-the-cop bit. Figured.

  Sam turned away and began to head back toward the broken door. He hadn’t kicked it in the way Tanner had done upstairs; instead, Sam had pulverized the thing. “If you want to hear the supernatural secrets in this town . . .” Sam tossed this back over his shoulder. “Head to Hell.”

  Hell. Not the home of the devil—though from what Tanner had heard, the dude had long since left that place—but the bar nestled deep in the Quarter. A bar humans instinctively avoided, as if they felt the evil that lurked inside.

  A bar he’d be hitting that night.

  Sam paused in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. His gaze locked on Tanner’s. “You’d better keep her safe.”

  Tanner inclined his head even as he choked back his rage. Like he needed this jerk to tell him—

  Sam glanced toward Marna. “And if you need me, remember that I’m here. You have an ally in the city.”

  There was no missing the surprise on Marna’s face. “Why? Why would you help me?”