by Cynthia Eden
That’s what vampirism really was. A virus. One that—if it wasn’t monitored—could be passed along until the whole human race died out. Died out—or transformed.
He rolled his shoulders and forced himself to meet her eyes. “He’s gone.”
“He?” Her brows rose. “Could you see him?” She pressed.
No lies. “I saw enough.”
“Was he the one that was there that night?” Her delicate jaw locked. “Was he the bastard that just stood there while the vamp tried to kill me?”
“No.” One of the things about angels—fallen or those still in grace—they could never lie. He exhaled. “That bastard. . . well, that would have been me.”
CHAPTER SIX
“What?” Her voice had gone flat and cold, just like her eyes.
And her teeth were getting longer and sharper. When the fangs came out, trouble was calling.
But it was time to reveal this to her. After what he’d done tonight, she deserved to know. “I was the angel there that night. I was the one you sensed.”
“You?” Her knuckles whitened around the sheet. “You saw what he did—”
His muscles locked at the memory. “I saw everything.”
“And you just stood there?” Disbelief. Disgust.
His spine straightened. He’d expected this.
“You stood there,” she repeated, “and let him hurt me? He clawed me, he bit me, hell, I even thought he was going to rape me—”
Keenan spun away from her. “He didn’t.” I didn’t let him. I broke the rules. Took him when I should have taken you.
“Wait. I get it now.”
Keenan glanced over his shoulder. “I doubt it.”
Wrong thing to say.
She lunged forward. The sheet dropped. “You were my guardian. My guardian angel, right? So your job was to watch me.”
No. He’d never been a guardian angel, and he shouldn’t have watched her so much. Since he couldn’t lie, he just didn’t speak.
“I thought guardian angels were supposed to keep their charges safe.”
They were. Except when he was around. Then the guardians were given other charges. No one could stop death.
He ran a hand over his face. I did.
Hadn’t he? Or had that angel been there tonight for a different reason? To finish the job?
No.
Keenan grabbed his jeans. Jerked them on. Shoved into his shoes.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I have to find someone.”
“No, you’re not leaving right now.” She stood in front of him. Naked. Furious. So sexy. The bed was just steps away. He’d been so close to the paradise of her body, but now he’d lost that chance.
Thanks, Az, you asshole. The human curses and insults were coming much easier to him now.
“You were there.” It was too easy to read the disgust on her face as she grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you help me?” Her claws bit into his skin, drawing blood.
He stared back at her and barely felt the pain. “You were supposed to die that night.”
Her eyelids flickered.
“I wasn’t supposed to help you. No one was.” Cold, hard truth.
Her body shuddered.
He had to get out of there. Get away from her. Because he wanted to pull her close. Keenan wanted to hold her and protect her.
But the truth, the real truth ... he’d been the biggest threat to her all along. He was the darkness that had come to take her away.
Her worst moment—he’d been there. Watching.
All that rage and despair she had was directed right at him.
A fist seemed to shove into his chest. “I didn’t ... want to hurt you.” Another painful truth.
“You said I was a damn key.” Her lower lip trembled. “A key to what?”
His lashes lowered.
“Eyes up, angel.”
His gaze snapped up.
“What kind of key am I? Why were you guarding me? Why’s another angel spying on me now?”
“I don’t know why he’s here.” But he’d find out. “And you’re the key because ...” Tell her. “The night you changed, I fell.”
She blinked.
He pulled away from her and in a flash, he was at the door. Angels—even the Fallen—could always move fast.
“Keenan!”
“Stay here.” He didn’t look back. “You’re weak now.” Because the sun was rising.
“Oh, don’t throw that up at me! I can’t control the freaking sunlight!”
“Rest,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back.” That was a promise.
“No, you’re not leaving me! If you’re going after that angel, I’m coming, too.”
The wood was chipping off the old door. His gaze bored into that wood. “If he touches you, you’re dead.” Simple truth—an angel of death killed with a touch. “A vamp can’t even begin to compete with his power.” He opened the door and left her.
Elijah knew that dawn was coming. Sweat trickled down his back as he stared at the women easing out of the bar, their bodies held tightly by the men with them.
His heart raced too fast, his hands shook almost constantly, and a fist twisted his guts.
Withdrawal. He knew all the fucking signs. If he didn’t get the drugs again soon, he’d rip apart. No, he’d rip apart any fool who got in his path.
He’d been so sure Sam would hook him up. So fucking sure.
He tasted ash in his mouth. No matter what he drank or ate, ash was all he got.
And the whispers were calling to him. Taunting.
He’d first heard those whispers when he was fourteen. Those mocking whispers told him that the humans could see right through his glamour, that they knew what he was.
He needed to stop the humans from seeing.
Had to stop them.
Like he’d stopped the others. So many others before ...
No.
Elijah spun away from the crowd. He just needed his drugs. Once he had those, he’d be in control. He’d pick the prey he wanted—screw the voices. They couldn’t tell him who needed to die.
He needed drugs. The drugs shut up the fucking voices.
Drugs.
He just had to find the right dealer. Someone willing to trade with a demon.
Nicole didn’t stay in the hotel room—she wasn’t some well-trained dog to do what she was told.
She grabbed the gun she’d taken from that feeding room and ran outside. It only took her a few seconds to get the weapon, but by the time she made it outside, Nicole discovered Keenan hadn’t left so much as a whisper of scent behind.
Damn him.
He’d seen. Everything. Her worst nightmare. Her pain and humiliation. Her terror.
He’d seen ... and he hadn’t helped her.
Damn the bastard.
He’d gone—fine. He’d better stay gone. She didn’t want to see him again. Because if she did, she’d kill him herself.
He’d been there ... and, moments before, he’d almost fucked her.
The rage built as the hours passed. She found a small shop. Bought some new clothes and ditched his shirt because she was tired of his scent clinging to her. Her new jeans were tight, her T-shirt hugged her body, and the boots made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could kick some ass. Angel ass.
She walked onto the street and felt the heat of the sun on her skin. Her body was tired, her moves sluggish. She’d get cover—any place but that cheap motel room—and crash.
Her fury had given her the strength to stay out in the daylight, but her emotions were churning now, and they were draining her energy.
Betrayal. Yes, that’s what stabbed her right in the heart. She’d been so weak that long-ago night. If he’d just reached out and helped her ...
“I’d still be alive,” she whispered.
“No, Nicole, you wouldn’t be ... that would have been against the rules.”
She spun at the hard,
male voice.
A man stood there, his dark hair loose around his shoulders. He wore dark sunglasses, glasses that cast her reflection right back at her. Broad shoulders stretched the black T-shirt he wore. His back was pressed against the brick wall on the side of the building and a faint smile curved his lips.
“Stopping you from going into that alley, saving you ... those weren’t options for our boy,” he said as his grin stretched.
Our boy.
Suddenly, the day wasn’t quite as warm. She stepped forward, just a small step, aware of the few humans strolling down the street. No help there. “Who are you?”
One black brow rose. His thumbs were hooked in the loops of his jeans. “I’m a friend of Keenan’s.”
“An angel?” She’d been raised her whole life to believe in angels. She just hadn’t expected angels to look like Keenan ... or like this guy.
But I believe.
It was vamps and the other monsters she hadn’t believed in. That disbelief had come back to bite her in the ass.
He laughed softly at her question, and the sound sent a shiver over her. “I’m no more an angel than Keenan is.”
But Keenan was ...
“Once an angel falls, he becomes something very, very different.” He pulled off his sunglasses. His eyes were the same bright blue as Keenan’s. His blue gaze trekked to the left, then to the right as it swept past the pedestrians. “Why don’t you come closer,” he invited, “so we can ... talk ... without worrying that the humans will overhear.”
She didn’t move. The gun was tucked in the waistband of her jeans, hidden beneath her shirt. But what would the silver bullets do against someone like him? Probably not much. “I’m fine right here.”
His eyes slit. “Are you?”
Nicole swallowed. “What do you want?”
He took a step toward her. She tensed.
“Where is Keenan?” He asked.
She braced her legs apart. “You’re not really his friend, are you?” Her right hand began to edge toward the gun. So what if the humans saw? She wasn’t dying on this street.
He didn’t blink. “No, I’m not.”
Great.
“He left you all alone.” His lips—sensual but cruel, just like the rest of him—pulled down. “Didn’t expect that. I thought you mattered more.”
“Why would I matter to him?” I begged for help. Help Keenan hadn’t given her. “We barely know each other.” Fury thickened her voice.
He took another slow, gliding step toward her. She was reminded of a snake slithering up on his prey. “Oh, you might not know him well,” he said, “but Keenan knows you.”
Then he was in front of her. Mere inches away. He’d moved in a blink—as fast as Keenan had at the motel.
Her hand flew for the gun.
He caught her wrist. Held tight. “I can’t let you do that.” His head came close, and his lips feathered against her ear as he spoke. To everyone else on the street, it would look like they were lovers whispering secrets and promises. “Digging those bullets out,” he told her as his breath stroked over her, “can be a real bitch.”
She’d lost feeling in the tips of her fingers. He wasn’t hurting her—there was just no feeling. “Who are you?”
His left hand rose and brushed back the hair from her cheek. “You can call me Sam.”
That told her nothing.
He eased back and gazed down at her. “He should have been with you.” There actually seemed to be some sadness in his voice. “I thought he was going to protect you.”
“Why would he?” She fired, refusing to cower. For all she knew, this guy was a low-level demon, just bullshitting his way around and trying to screw with her head. “He has no link to me.” Even though she could still feel his hands on her body. Still taste him. Bastard. “We’re not—”
His laughter cut through her words. “Don’t bother lying to me.”
“I’m not.”
Faint lines appeared around his eyes, then his brows shot up. “You don’t know.”
She snapped her lips closed.
Once more, his fingers brushed down her cheek. “I bet he likes to touch you, doesn’t he?”
Two giggling teenage girls passed them.
“Everything’s so new when you fall. Touch ... it can bring so much pleasure.” To be so bright, those eyes of his were so cold. “Or so much pain.”
“Let go of my hand,” she gritted. A cop was walking down the sidewalk now. The last thing she needed was to get caught between this jerk and a cop.
He didn’t let go. “The emotions hit next. Anger. Hate. Fury.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Lust. I bet he knows all about that, thanks to you.”
She jumped back, and was surprised to see that she actually broke his hold. “I don’t mean anything to Keenan. So if you’re trying to get back at him by taking hits at me ...”
“Stop lying.”
The real fury in his voice had her heart slamming into her chest.
“He fell for you. Of course, he’s damn well linked to you.”
He fell—
“And because of that link ...” He sighed. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to suffer.”
She really didn’t like the sound of that.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he told her.
That was when the punch hit her—not a punch, an electric shock. Her head whipped to the right, and she saw the cop who’d been approaching—and the bastard had a Taser out. The volts were hitting her, hard, jolting her body, and the cop was screaming something.
If she’d been at full strength, the shock wouldn’t have even slowed her down. She would have laughed at him. Jerked out the electrodes and laughed.
But the sun was out. She was weak. And she went down.
The motel room door was ajar. Keenan frowned as unease slipped over him. This wasn’t right. He didn’t knock. He just pushed the door open with his knuckles.
Empty.
Of course, she’d left him again. Figured. Especially after his big reveal. Not like she’d want to stick around with the man who’d been responsible for her undead transformation.
You just stood there and watched.
Story of his existence.
He turned away from the room. The place smelled of her. His gaze swept the street. The sun was up. She shouldn’t have gone out during the day.
Easy prey.
Maybe he should just walk away. The obsession he had with her ... no way could that be a good thing.
He stalked back toward the motorcycle with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He’d bought new clothes. Even gotten some for her. Nicole’s were tucked into the saddlebags of the bike.
He kicked up the stand on the motorcycle. Where would she have gone?
I should have stayed with her.
“Lose something?” A voice drawled.
His hands tightened around the handlebars. Slowly, he glanced up and to the left.
A man stood there. He was tall and dressed all in black. His eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses.
“Maybe it’s not something you’ve lost ...” The guy said, sauntering forward as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Maybe it’s someone.”
“Sam.”
Sammael flashed a crooked grin. “Good to see you haven’t forgotten your old friends.”
Keenan jumped off the bike. “We were never friends.” No one would be dumb enough to be Sam’s friend. Sam’s friends had a way of ending up in hell.
Sam shrugged. “My mistake. I forgot ... you always thought you were better than me. Just like all the others.”
“No.” He readied for an attack because he knew one would be coming. “I just think a random slaughter of the humans wasn’t the best way to go.” That slaughter was why Sammael had fallen so many centuries before. Once, he’d been the strongest, his power ready to rival even Az.
But then Sammael had made the decision to kill those not on the death list. He’d st
rayed ...
The Fallen laughed. “Just put the pieces together, huh? They threw my ass out because I killed those not on their list—just like you, Keenan. Just like you.”
“I’m nothing like you.” Sam hadn’t just killed one person, he’d killed dozens. “I was trying to save her, I didn’t—”
The grin faded from Sam’s face. “You broke the rules, same as me.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Did they give you a chance to explain or did they just toss you out, too?” Sam stalked closer. “Do you still think you can feel your wings? Do you try to fly, only to remember they fucking burned them off you?”
Yes. Sometimes, he could feel them stretching in the air behind him. A lie. An illusion. “Why are you here?” He wished he could see Sam’s eyes, but all he could see was his own image in those dark glasses.
“Maybe I just wanted the chance to talk to another of my kind. It’s not every day that an angel falls.”
No. Some angels didn’t even survive the fall. Their bodies just weren’t ready for the onslaught of pain.
“So you were trying to save ‘her,’ huh?” Sam’s head cocked. “Would that ‘her’ be that sexy little piece with that sweet Southern drawl?”
Keenan lunged forward and grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt. “Where is she?”
Sam didn’t flinch. “She’s really why you fell? You traded your wings, all your power ... just for a human’s life?”
“Where is—”
“Of course, she’s not really human anymore, is she?” His brows rose. “Was that part of your plan? ’Cause her turning into a vamp must have really pissed off the guys upstairs.”
Keenan shoved him back. Sam slammed into the front of an SUV parked in the motel’s lot. The metal screamed and dented beneath the Fallen’s weight.
Keenan shook his head in disgust. “You don’t know anything. You’re just trying to mess with my head.” Everyone knew about Sam. The angel who’d been meant to fall. They’d all known it was coming long before he told the powers that be to screw off. He’d always had a darkness inside. Not fully good, too many whispers of evil had lurked within Sam.