Angel of Darkness

by Cynthia Eden

  Then she had to touch.

  Slowly, her right hand eased down his shoulder. Her hand drifted down his back, and her fingertips stretched out.

  She felt the lightest, softest silk. Just a whisper. Just—

  Keenan shuddered against her. His head was bent now, and his mouth pressed to her throat. “What are you doing?” He rumbled, then his lips opened wider over her throat. His tongue stroked her flesh, and his cock began to thicken. “Feels good.”

  It did. Because her fingers were tingling. “I’m ... touching your wings.”

  He tore away from her, pulling that thickening flesh from her—

  No.

  —as he stared at her with stunned eyes. “What?”

  She could still see them—big, dark wings. They seemed to come right from his back. She tried to step forward but her knees were doing a jiggle. “Your wings, I—”

  “I don’t have wings.”

  She hadn’t thought so either, but she nodded.

  He spun, showing her his back. “They were burned off when I fell.”

  She could see the angry red scars on his otherwise perfect back, but she could also see those dark shadows, rising up, covering him like a cloud. “I can see them.”

  He whirled back to face her. “No, they’re gone.”

  The scent of flowers hit her then. Light, sweet. Such a strange smell to mark someone who could destroy her so easily. Nicole grabbed her jeans and hauled them back up even as Keenan cocked his head to the side and stared hard at the broken front door. A breeze blew into the room, and then ...

  Wings. Black wings. Not shadows, but real, honest-to-God wings appeared as the angel approached. Angel. His face seemed carved from stone but made of beauty. He wore a white T-shirt, dark jeans. Strange, she’d expected—

  Nicole swallowed. I shouldn’t be seeing him. This was wrong. Something was wrong. You didn’t see an angel of death unless you were dying. That’s what Keenan had said. “I see your wings,” she told Keenan. “And I see him.”

  If she saw the angel of death, that meant ...

  Her time had come.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  As Keenan lunged forward, his arm swept out to make sure that Nicole stayed behind him.

  She can see Az.

  Fear and fury churned in Keenan. “You’re not taking her!”

  Az’s eyes narrowed. “You really think you can stop me?” “I can damn well try.”

  Az’s eyes jerked at the curse. Right. Angels weren’t supposed to curse.

  Or to fuck.

  Not an angel anymore. And Nicole was rubbing off on him.

  “Get in my way,” Az told him, voice deep and dark and promising, “you’ll die.”

  “No!” Nicole shouted as she shoved past the arm Keenan was trying to use to shield her. Her clothes were wrinkled, her face flushed, her lips red and swollen—and she was so beautiful.

  And she was running toward Death.

  “Don’t even think about hurting Keenan!” She yelled at Az.

  Az blinked, then his light brows pulled low over his eyes. “You can truly see me.” Now he sounded surprised.

  What? An emotion? From Az?

  No time to dissect that now. “You aren’t taking her.”

  “No.” Az cocked his head to the side and studied Nicole. Then he took one step inside the abandoned building. Another. The floral scent deepened, but Az wrinkled his nose, obviously smelling something else. “Sex.” His nostrils flared. “That’s why you came in here?” His eyes judged Keenan. Found him lacking. “How very human of you.”

  Keenan knew the words were supposed to be an insult. “Thank you.” He’d always thought humans got the better end of the deal. Pleasure, passion. Sure, pain was thrown into the mix, too. But you could live through pain.

  No expression crossed Az’s face.

  Nicole stood between the two men now. Her hair fell over her shoulders and tension held her small body tight. “I thought I had ten days.”

  “Um ...” Az took another step inside. A step that put him closer to Nicole.

  Don’t touch her.

  One touch would be all it took.

  Keenan caught Nicole’s arm and forced her back. She tried to fight, he just pulled harder. “He touches you, you die.” Flat.

  That stopped her struggles. Her eyes widened and she looked back at Az. “Why do I see him?”

  Only the dying should see Az. Only the dying or—

  “Been drinking angel blood, have you?” Az asked.

  The mark on Keenan’s neck seemed to burn. But he hadn’t minded her bite. He’d craved it.

  Az shook his head slowly. “We’re not meant to be prey, Keenan.”

  “He’s not,” she snapped, and Keenan felt a spurt of pride. Even with death close, she wasn’t weakening.

  But Nicole’s words had Az’s eyes zeroing in on her. “I know about you.”

  “Good.” She barred her sharp teeth in a cold smile. “He”—her hand tightened on Keenan’s—“knows, too.”

  Az measured her with his gaze. “With all that you’ve done, are you worried about what the afterlife will hold for you, vampire?” He offered her a smile in return, and it wasn’t pretty.

  “I know why you were on the church steps that night ...” He whispered the words. “You would have gotten a free pass that night. Straight upstairs then, but now ... now fate will be different for you.”

  “Get out of here, Az!” Keenan snarled, his control fragmenting.

  Az didn’t move.

  “You wanted another chance, didn’t you?” Az asked. “But that’s not what you got, you got—”

  Keenan raced across the room and plowed his fist into the angel’s jaw. The smash of bones and flesh felt good. Az flew back. The angel crashed through the door frame and stumbled outside.

  “Guess what that is, buddy?” Keenan followed him out, and Nicole ran at their heels. “It’s called pain.” Time for the angel to start learning how humans lived.

  Az picked himself up slowly. He lifted a hand to his jaw. His eyes narrowed. “No—you can’t—”

  “I can see you.” Keenan stalked closer. “I can touch you. And if you try to come at me again—or send any of the others after us—I will kick your ass.”

  Az’s jaw clenched. “You can’t.”

  “Yes, well, until about five seconds ago, I’m guessing you didn’t even think I could deck you—think again.” His hands clenched into fists. “The rules in this game are changing.”

  “Because you say so? Who are you to judge?” Fire there, cracking through the ice of Az’s words. “You’re an angel whose wings burned. You were cast down to live in this hell ...”

  “Watch it,” Nicole warned. “I rather like this place.”

  Az’s lips tightened.

  “How does it feel?” Keenan pressed.

  That blue stare cut to him.

  Keenan smiled. “The anger is better than never feeling anything, isn’t it?”

  Az’s wings folded down behind his back. Ah, his control was coming back as that slight break in emotion vanished. “You don’t want me as an enemy.”

  “No, Az, you don’t want me as one.” He shrugged and opened his arms. “I’ve already fallen. What do I have to lose now?”

  Wrong words.

  Az’s stare immediately shifted to Nicole. “What indeed.”

  Keenan lunged forward.

  But he moved too late. Wind whipped against his face as Az’s words floated in the air, “I’ll be seeing you, Keenan.”

  The angel vanished.

  But Keenan knew Az would be back. After all, angels never lied. They could twist the truth, confuse and beguile, but they couldn’t lie.

  Neither could the Fallen.

  If you try to come at me again—or send any of the others after us—I will kick your ass.

  His words to Az had been a promise.

  The sun beat down on Carlos Guerro as he sauntered down the New Orleans street. Sweat trickled down hi
s face, but he didn’t care. He’d long grown used to the heat.

  He was alone on this hunt. That was the way he wanted to be. The day he couldn’t kill a gang of humans on his own ...

  He turned the corner and found the old bar, just off Bourbon Street. The place was open now, of course, even though it was barely one o’clock in the afternoon.

  His eyes narrowed as he went inside. Dim interior. They probably kept the lights that way so the folks didn’t notice how worn the furniture was or see how the cracked mirror in the back hung haphazardly. The darker a place was, the better it tended to look.

  His prey waited to the left. Six men slumped in chairs. Bruises covered the men, and blood stained their clothes. He inhaled, a nice, deep pull, and caught the scent he needed—vampire. Not just any vamp though. Her.

  Following her hadn’t been easy, even with the speed of the private plane he’d chartered. But then, he didn’t really like the easy hunts. He’d found a sheriff just over the state line who’d survived her attack. Then he met a female cop in San Antonio who’d been pissed to hell and back about the prisoner who’d escaped.

  The San Antonio cop hadn’t been as guarded as the sheriff, so he’d known he could push her. Carlos had flashed his own badge. It paid to keep a fake one, he’d learned that long ago. Once she’d realized she was talking to a brother in blue, the cop had opened up and revealed all about the escapee.

  Nicole St. James. Age twenty-nine. Ex-school teacher who’d snapped one night and killed a man in a New Orleans alley. Minutes after that kill, she’d attacked a cop.

  Since that night, Nicole St. James had turned full-on psychotic killer. Two more men met her, then bled for her. The female cop had said St. James was a serial killer. One who got off on slicing the throats of her victims and drinking their blood.

  Good story, but he knew it was bullshit. The serial killer story was often used to cover Other crimes.

  Carlos motioned to the bartender. “Whiskey.”

  Voices rumbled around him as the glass slid across the table. He took a deep breath, inhaling more of that elusive scent. Then he drained the glass and the fire of the liquid burned his throat. Oh, but it was a good burn. His eyes narrowed as he studied his whispering prey. The group of bikers looked pissed—and in pain. He wondered about them. Did they pretend the world was normal, too, or did they screw the rules?

  “What the fuck are you looking at?” The big one snarled. But, to be honest, there were a few big ones.

  Big—thick with fat and muscle.

  And they’d still gotten their asses kicked. He knew a vamp’s work when he saw it.

  “Did you hear me?” The guy shouted again as he jumped to his feet. The table shoved forward and his beer bottle crashed to the floor. His face mottled as he pointed at Carlos. “You been starin’ at me the whole damn time you’ve been in here! What do you—”

  Carefully, slowly, he put his empty glass on the bar. “I was just wondering ... who beat the shit out of you and your crew?”

  Ah, not the right thing to say. Now they were all on their feet and storming for him. Good.

  He’d been right. They were all big. Had to be over six foot three. Except for that one scrawny guy who was hanging back, nursing two black eyes.

  “Boy, you picked the wrong bar.” The leader—a bald guy with snake tattoos curving down both arms—smiled.

  Huh. He’d never really liked snakes. Carlos lifted one brow. “That a broken hand you got there?” Si. It was. “Guess you touched something ... or someone you couldn’t handle, hombre.”

  The leader lunged for him.

  Carlos sidestepped and caught the guy’s broken hand. “Now, Mike, you really need to control that temper.” Mike. That was the name the helpful stripper had given him. She’d seen the guy set the fire at Temptation, and then she’d seen the biker corner a woman and her lover in the alley.

  The stripper hadn’t helped the couple. Tina wasn’t real big into helping others, but she’d given him the information, for a price.

  Finding prey is always the best part.

  “How do you ... know me?”

  For fun, he squeezed Mike’s broken hand. When big Mike hissed in pain, his men swore and came at Carlos.

  “Don’t.” His snapped order. He dropped Mike’s hand and faced them all, his back to the bar. Carlos lifted his hands, palms out, and made sure that his claws weren’t showing. “I’m not here to fight you.” Yet.

  His gaze met Mike’s fuming stare. “I’m looking for the woman who broke that hand.”

  Surprise flashed on Mike’s face. Then he smiled. A twisted, broken smile. “Hoss, there’s no way you could handle her.”

  Carlos let his gaze sweep the bar. Only a few other stragglers remained, and they were high-tailing it out because they thought a fight was coming.

  Maybe.

  “Let me be the judge of that,” he murmured.

  “Dumbass, you don’t get it.” Big Mike stabbed a thick finger—one from his left hand, not that swollen right—into Carlos’s chest. His voice dropped as he said, “That bitch ain’t even human.”

  So what? Was he supposed to act surprised? No, not his way. Carlos nodded. “Si, I know. That’s why I want to take her out. She killed mi hermano—my brother in Mexico.”

  The men around him all glanced at Big Mike.

  Mike swallowed. “Mine, too.”

  What? Really? Carlos almost smiled. Talk about a fucking perfect cover story! He couldn’t have planned that one better.

  “I want her to pay,” Carlos said and let his voice vibrate with fury. “I want her to hurt, I want her to beg, and I want her to pay.”

  “Good luck.” Mike rubbed the stubbly line of his jaw. “That vamp’s got some kind of guard dog—bastard won’t let anyone close.”

  Carlos tried very hard not to let his excitement show at that news.

  “Probably uses him for fucking and sucking ...” One of Mike’s gang muttered.

  Probably.

  “He’s the one who broke my hand, because I was touching his whore,” Mike said.

  “Gettin’ ready to stake her ...” This came from the same guy who’d spoken before, the one with a big red lump on his forehead.

  Big Mike grunted. “He took us all out.” He waved a hand toward his tight-jawed men. “If we couldn’t take him, you damn sure ain’t gonna have any better luck with the guy.”

  Maybe. “I will if you help me.”

  Now that had Mike looking interested.

  “Your mistake was that you tried to take ’em down when they were together.” Huge mistake, especially for humans going up against supernaturals. “We need to separate them.”

  Mike started nodding.

  “We want the vamp, right? She’s our target.” The idiot would believe anything he said then.

  Mike licked his lips. There were murmurs from the men. A few “damns straights” and one “fuck, yeah.” After a minute Big Mike said, “Yeah, that bitch is the one I want to stake.”

  “You’ll get your chance.” Eventually. “But first, we’ve got to break them apart. Break them apart, make them weak—then we attack.”

  Because Nicole St. James, killer and Taken vamp, wouldn’t be nearly as fierce on her own. Not once she lost the angel on her shoulder.

  “So how we gonna do it?” Mike wanted to know. “How the hell are we supposed to get her away from him?”

  Now that was the hard part. But, luckily, he had a plan. “Leave that to me. You just get your men ready to jump her.”

  Lie. Lie.

  Mike and his men were his plan. They were his bait and his distraction. Because Nicole and her angel would be so focused on them, well ... the vamp wouldn’t even realize the true danger until it was too late.

  “We’ve got to act fast,” he said. “We’re gonna need to attack before the sun sets.” No sense in going up against a stronger vamp. Not while there was still daylight left.

  “You know where she is?”

  Shifters
had good noses for a reason. They were the best at tracking. Once he’d caught her scent at Temptation, he’d followed her all the way back home.

  He’d always had the strongest nose in the pack. Blood, fire, and sex—it wasn’t easy to miss that combination. Tracking Nicole had been fucking child’s play.

  “I know.” He smiled. “Now let’s go and drag that bitch into the sunlight.”

  Nicole woke, her heart racing, her body shaking as the nightmare still played in her mind.

  The alley. The blood. The monster.

  She sucked in a deep breath.

  She’d been the monster.

  “Nicole?”

  Her head turned. Keenan lay beside her in bed, his chest naked, and the sheet loose around his hips. She swallowed. “Ah, it’s nothing ...” It was still daylight. She could see the sun trickling through the blinds, could feel the weakness in her body. He’d chosen to sleep in the day? With her?

  The lump in her chest had nothing to do with her nightmare.

  “Something scared you,” he said.

  Me. I scare myself. I have for a while now.

  His fingers brushed down her arm and she shivered. “It—it’s really nothing—”

  “Liar.” The word sounded like a caress. “Tell me about it.”

  The drumming of her heartbeat wasn’t slowing down. She pulled the covers up and held them with tight hands. Right then, she needed some kind of shield, and it was the cover or nothing. “Before I was attacked, I-I didn’t even know I could kill.”

  “Everyone can kill. People just have to be pushed hard enough,” he said flatly. There was a lot of dark knowledge tinting his voice. But then, he’d probably seen everything humans had to offer. Good. Bad. All that waited in between.

  Death.

  Right. He’d know all about killing.

  “You said you saw me ... before.” Before she’d gotten the stylish new fangs, the bad manicure, and the pretty much unquenchable thirst for blood.

  “Yes.”

  “She never would have ripped a man’s throat open. Not once.” Her voice dropped. “Twice. I killed two humans.” And one vampire.