Angel of Darkness

by Cynthia Eden

  ANGEL OF DARKNESS

  CYNTHIA EDEN

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Teaser chapter

  Copyright Page

  Once upon a time, two romance writers met for milk shakes at the RWA Conference. A bet was made. A bet was lost. And now, a promise must be kept.

  Rebecca Zanetti, I bow to your mad, bad, very dangerous mentoring skills.

  PROLOGUE

  He’d been created for one purpose—death. He was not there to comfort or to enlighten.

  Keenan’s only job was to bring death to those unlucky enough to know his touch.

  And on the cold, windy New Orleans night, his latest victim was in sight. He watched her from his perch high atop the St. Louis Cathedral. Mortal eyes wouldn’t find him. Only those preparing to leave the earthly realm could ever glimpse his face so he didn’t worry about shocking those few humans who straggled through the nearby square.

  No, he worried about nothing. No one. He never had. He simply touched and he killed and he waited for his next victim.

  The woman he watched tonight was small, with long, black hair, and skin a pale cream. The wind whipped her hair back, jerking it away from her face as she hurried down the stone steps of the cathedral. The doors had been locked. She hadn’t made it inside. No chance to pray.

  Pity.

  He slipped to the side of the cathedral, still watching her as she edged down the narrow alleyway. Pirate’s Alley. He’d taken others from this place before. The path seemed to scream with the memories of the past.

  “No!”

  That wasn’t the past screaming. His body stiffened. His wings beat at the air around him. It was her.

  Nicole St. James. Schoolteacher. Age twenty-nine. A woman who tutored children on the weekends. A woman who’d tried to live her life just right ...

  A woman who was dying tonight.

  His eyes narrowed as he leapt from his perch. Time to go in closer.

  Nicole’s attacker had her against the wall. One of the man’s hands was over her mouth, the better to make sure she didn’t scream again. His other hand slammed against the front of her chest and held her pinned against the cold stone wall.

  She was fighting harder than Keenan had really expected. Struggling. Kicking.

  Her attacker just laughed.

  And Keenan watched—as he’d always watched. So many years ...

  Tears streamed down Nicole’s cheeks.

  The man holding her leaned in and licked them away.

  Keenan’s gut clenched. Knowing that her time was at hand, he’d watched Nicole for a few weeks now. He’d slipped into her classroom and listened to the soft drawl of her voice. He’d watched as her lips curled into a smile and a dimple winked in her right cheek.

  He’d seen laughter in her eyes. Seen longing. Seen ... life.

  Now her green eyes were filled with the stark, wild terror that only the helpless can truly know.

  He didn’t like that look in her eyes. His hands clenched.

  Don’t look if you don’t like it. His gaze pulled away from her face. The job wasn’t about what he liked. It never had been.

  There’d never been a choice.

  They have the choices. I only have orders to follow.

  That was way it had always been. So why did it bother him, now? Because it was her? Because he’d watched too much? Slipped beside her too often?

  Temptation.

  “This is gonna hurt ...”

  The man’s grating whisper scratched through Keenan’s mind. Neither the attacker nor Nicole could see him. Not yet.

  One touch—that was all it would take.

  But the time hadn’t come for her yet.

  “The wind’s so loud ...” The man lifted his hand off Nicole’s mouth. “No one’s gonna hear you scream anyway.”

  But she still screamed—a loud, long, desperate scream—and she kept fighting.

  Keenan truly hadn’t realized she’d struggle so much against death. Some didn’t fight at all when the time came. Others fought until he had to drag them away.

  Fabric ripped. Tore. The guy had jerked her shirt, rending the material. Keenan glimpsed the soft ivory of her bra and the firm mounds of her breasts.

  Help her. The urge came from deep within, but it was an urge he couldn’t heed.

  “Don’t!” Nicole yelled. “Please—no! Just let me go!”

  Her attacker lifted his head. Keenan stared at him, noting the gaunt features, the black hair, and the eyes that were too dark for a normal man. “No, baby. I’m not lettin’ you go.” The guy licked his lips. “I’m too damn hungry.” Then he smiled and revealed sharpened teeth that no human could possess.

  Vampire. Figured. Keenan had been cleaning up their messes for centuries. A mistake. That’s what all those parasites were. An experiment gone wrong.

  Nicole opened her mouth to scream again and the vamp sank his teeth into her throat. Then he started drinking from her, gulping and growling and Nicole’s fingernails raked against his face as she struggled against him.

  But it was too late to fight. She’d never be strong enough to break away from the vampire. She was five feet six inches tall. Maybe one hundred thirty-five pounds.

  The vamp was over six feet. He was lean, but muscle mass and weight didn’t really matter—not when you were talking about a vamp’s strength.

  Keenan stared at the narrow opening of the alley. Soon, he’d be able to touch her and her nightmare would end. Soon.

  “You’re just going to stand there?” Her voice cracked.

  His head whipped back toward her. Those green eyes—fury and fear—were locked on him.

  Impossible.

  She shouldn’t see him yet. It wasn’t time. The vamp hadn’t taken enough blood from her.

  Nicole slammed her hands into the vampire’s chest, but he kept his teeth in her throat and didn’t so much as stumble. Her neck was tilted back, her head angled, and her stare was on—

  Me.

  “Help me.” She mouthed the words as tears slipped down her cheeks. “Please.”

  Her plea seemed to slip right inside of him. “I will.” The words felt rusty, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to a human. No need for talk, not really. Not when you were just carting souls. “Soon ...”

  The vamp’s head lifted. Her blood stained his mouth and chin. “Baby, you taste so good.”

  Her body slumped as her knees buckled. Keenan’s wings stretched behind him even as his muscles tensed.

  “Grade Fucking A,” the vamp muttered and he eased back. Why stop feeding? The vamp planned to kill her. Keenan knew that. Nicole St. James was dying tonight.

  Nicole’s hand rose to her throat. Her fingers were shaking. “Y-you’re not real ...” Her eyes never left Keenan.

  “Oh, I’m damn real.” The vamp swiped the back of his hand over his chin. “Guess what, sweet thing? All those stories you heard? About the vamps and this city? Every damn one of ’em tales is true.”

  Nicole didn’t look at the vamp. She k
ept her eyes on Keenan as she inched her way down the alley. With every slow move, her hands pressed against the wall.

  “You gonna run?” The vamp taunted. “Oh, damn, I love it when they run.”

  Yes, he did. Most vampires did. They liked the thrill of the hunt.

  “Why don’t you help me?” She yelled at Keenan, and the wind took the words, making them into a whisper as they left the alley.

  That was the way of Pirate’s Alley. Sometimes, no one could ever hear the screams.

  The vampire seemed to finally realize his prey wasn’t focused on him. The vamp spun around, turning so that he nearly brushed against Keenan. “What the fuck?” The guy demanded. “Bitch, no one’s—”

  Nicole’s footsteps pounded down the alley. Smart. Keenan almost smiled. Had she ever even seen him? Or had her words all been a trick to escape?

  The vampire laughed, then he lunged after her. Four steps and the parasite leapt at her, tackling Nicole to the ground, and keeping her trapped in the alley. Glass shattered when she fell—a beer bottle that had been tossed aside. She crashed into it and the bottle smashed beneath her weight.

  “You’re gonna beg for death,” the vamp promised her.

  Perhaps. Keenan slowly stalked toward them. He lifted his hand, aware of the growing cold in the air. The stories about death’s cold touch were true. Nicole’s time was at hand.

  “Please, God, no!” Nicole cried.

  God had other plans. That was why an angel of death had been sent to collect her.

  The vamp’s hands were at her throat. His claws dug into her skin. The scent of decay and cigarettes swirled in the air around Keenan.

  “Flowers,” Nicole whispered. “I smell ...”

  Him. Angels often carried a floral scent. Humans caught a trace of that scent all the time, but never realized they weren’t alone.

  The vamp sank his teeth into Nicole’s throat again. She didn’t even have the voice to scream now. Tears leaked from her eyes.

  Keenan knelt beside her. The first time he’d seen her, he’d thought ...

  Beautiful.

  Now, covered in garbage and blood, still fighting a vampire, still struggling to live ...

  Beautiful.

  It was time. His hand lifted toward her and hovered over her tangled hair. His fingers were so close to touching her. Just an inch, maybe two, separated them. But ...

  He hesitated.

  Why couldn’t someone else have come into the alley this night? A cop? A college kid? Someone to help her.

  And not someone who was just supposed to watch her suffer.

  A fire burned in his gut. She didn’t deserve this brutal end to her human life. From what he’d seen, Nicole had been good. She’d tried to help others. His jaw ached and he realized he’d been clenching his teeth.

  His gaze drifted to the vampire. It would be so easy to stop him and take one more monster from the world.

  Forbidden. The order burned into his mind. He wasn’t supposed to interfere. That wasn’t the way. Wasn’t allowed. He was to collect his charge and move on. Those were the rules.

  He’d take Nicole St. James this night, and someone else would wait on him tomorrow. There were always more humans. More souls. More death.

  Her hands fell limply to her sides as the vampire drank from her, and her head turned toward Keenan.

  There was gold buried in her eyes. He’d thought her eyes were solid emerald, but now he could see the gold glinting in her eyes. Angels had strong vision—in darkness or light—but he’d never noticed that gold before.

  Her eyes locked right on him. She was so close to passing. He had no doubt that she saw him then.

  “Don’t worry,” he told her. The vampire wouldn’t hear him. No one but Nicole would hear his voice. “The pain is already ending for you.” His hand still reached for her. He’d wanted to touch her before. To see if her skin was as soft as it looked. But he knew just how dangerous such a touch would be—to both of them.

  Keenan well understand what happened to those of his kind when they did not obey their orders.

  Despite popular belief, angels were not the favored ones. They did not have choices like the humans. Angels had only duty.

  “I don’t ...” Her words were barely a whisper. Had the vamp already savaged her neck too much for speech? “D-don’t ... want to ... die ...”

  The vamp gulped down her blood, growling as he drank.

  “Don’t ... let me ...” Her lashes began to fall. The fingers of her right hand began to curl inward, and her wrist brushed against the jagged glass. “Die ...”

  There was so much desperation in her voice, but he’d heard desperation before. Heard fear. Heard lies. Promises.

  But he’d never heard them from her.

  Keenan didn’t touch her. His hand eased back as he hesitated.

  Hesitated.

  He’d taken a thousand souls. No, far more. But her ...

  Why her? Why tonight? She’s barely lived.The vamp should be the one to go, not—

  Nicole let out a guttural groan. Keenan blinked and his wings rustled behind him. No, he had a job to do. He would do it—

  Nicole grabbed a thick shard of broken glass and wrenched it up. She shoved it into the vampire’s neck and caught him right in the jugular. His blood spilled over her as the vamp jerked back, howling in pain and fury.

  Her throat was a mess, ripped flesh, blood—so much blood. Hers. The vamp’s. Nicole grabbed another chunk of glass and swung again with a slice to the vampire’s neck.

  Fighting.

  She was fighting desperately for every second of life that she had left. And he was supposed to just stop her? Supposed to take her away when she struggled so hard to live?

  You’ve done it before. Do it again.

  So many humans. So little life. So much death.

  “Bitch! I’ll cut you open—”

  The vamp would. In that instant, Keenan could see everything the vamp had planned for Nicole. Her death would be ten times more brutal now. The future had already altered for her. Because I hesitated.

  “I’ll rip your heart out—”

  Yes, in the end, he’d do that, too.

  She’d die with her eyes open, with fear and blood choking her.

  “I’ll shred that pretty face—”

  Her coffin would be closed.

  The fire twisting in Keenan’s gut burned hotter, brighter with every slow second that passed. Why her? She’d ... soothed him before. When he’d heard her voice, it had seemed to flow through him. And when she’d laughed ...

  He’d liked the sound of her laughter. Sweet, free.

  “Help ... me ...” Her broken voice.

  Keenan squared his shoulders. What did she see when she looked at him? A monster just like the vamp? Or a savior?

  “No one fuckin’ cares about you ...” The vamp yanked the glass out of his neck. More blood sprayed on Nicole. “You’ll die alone, and no one will even notice you’re gone.”

  I will notice. Because she wouldn’t be there for him to watch anymore. She’d be far beyond Keenan’s reach. He didn’t know paradise, only death.

  She tried to push off the ground, but couldn’t move. The blood loss had gotten to her and made her the perfect prey.

  The vampire smiled at her. “I’m gonna start with that pretty face.”

  Nicole shook her head and swiped out with the glass. The wounds didn’t stop the vampire. Nothing was going to stop him. No one. Nicole would scream and suffer and then finally—die.

  And Keenan would watch. Every moment.

  No.

  His hand lifted, rising in that last, final touch. His touch could steal life and rip the soul right of a body.

  He reached out—and locked his fingers around the vampire’s shoulder.

  The vampire jerked and shuddered as if an electric charge had blasted through him. Keenan didn’t try to soften his power. He wanted the vampire to hurt. Wanted him to suffer.

  And that was wrong.
Angels of Death weren’t supposed to want vengeance. They weren’t supposed to get angry. They weren’t supposed to care.

  Killing the vampire was wrong. Against orders. But ...

  She will hurt no more.

  The vamp would not slash her pale skin. He wouldn’t carve open her chest or defile her body.

  He’d just die.

  The vamp fell to the ground, his body as hard as the stones beneath him.

  Keenan didn’t worry about the creature’s soul. Those headed to the pit needed no courier. But Nicole ...

  Her breath rasped out as her chest heaved. She was still alive, but barely. His hands lifted to her savaged throat, the move an instinctual gesture.

  Stop the blood.

  But he didn’t touch her. Couldn’t. Because, this time, he didn’t want to kill.

  “Help ...” Her desperate whisper made his chest ache.

  His wings beat against the air. No humans were close enough to save her.

  She was suffering, but she’d keep living. Until he touched her, she wouldn’t die, no matter how bad her wounds were.

  Help. Right then, killing her would be kinder than the nightmare she faced as she fought for every breath.

  “L-live ...”

  But she didn’t want to let go. He’d met a soldier like her once, lifetimes ago. A man who fought on, determined to hold back the cold touch of death. The soldier had been gutted, but he’d fought, desperate to stay alive, despite the pain.

  Keenan hadn’t expected to find that same fierce spirit in the schoolteacher. He should have remembered the lesson humans had taught him before: Appearances could be deceiving.

  Her lashes began to flicker, yet her heart still beat. He could hear the too-fast rhythm.