by Cynthia Eden
Because of what she was.
He smile widened even as his gaze raked her. “That looks like it hurts.”
It did. She wouldn’t stop hurting until she drank and healed.
“Off to stop them, isn’t he? Off to kill them ... for you.”
She needed a weapon stronger than her claws. “I wasn’t going to hurt you that night. I was just—”
“Thirsty.” He smiled and his teeth looked far too sharp to be human.
Vampire? No, a vamp wouldn’t care if she got a little hungry.
He lifted his hand and his claws were out. Not sharpened, razor-sharp fingernails like she had but actual, real claws. The kind an animal would have.
Oh, shit.
That scent, the claws ...
“Figuring it out, eh? Took you long enough.” He sauntered closer.
Weapon!
The fire sputtered on the ground but there was a broken bottle nearby. She grabbed it and held the jagged glass toward him. Glass had worked for her once before.
“Did you think that since you’re undead, you’re at the top of the food chain now?” His teeth snapped together. “Not even close.”
“Y-you’re a shifter.” She should have realized that fact sooner. But she’d been so hungry in Mexico. She’d noticed the scent was off, but ... bad mistake.
“Um. Guess I am.” He shrugged. “That glass isn’t goin’ to hurt me. Unlike you, I’m not weak during the day.” His dark gaze dropped to her neck. “If I wanted, I could rip out your throat right now.”
As weak as she felt, that might be a possibility.
Ten days. Nine, eight ... who knew what was left?
Her nostrils flared. Was that flowers in the air? Did the smell come from the woods or from ...
Time’s counting down.
“But I don’t want to kill you. Not yet, anyway.” Carlos leapt at her. He grabbed the broken bottle and yanked it from her hands. He hauled her close to him, and the slam of his body against her burned flesh had her screaming in agonized pain. He caught her hair and wrenched her head back. “I fucking hate vamps!”
Who didn’t? She bit her lip to hold back another cry.
“You’re a screamer. Ah, I like that.” His claws slipped down her cheek. “Before we’re done, I’ll make sure you scream plenty.”
Her own claws were lengthening as the rage and fear built. Her fangs burned and if she had the chance, she’d—
“What ?” He wrenched back her head. “You want my throat?”
Yes.
“You wanted it that night in Mexico, too, didn’t you?”
She’d wanted blood. “Not like ...” she gritted, “I can stop the thirst.”
His brows lowered at that. “No, I don’t guess you can.” He shrugged. “You still smell fresh, not like the decomposing piles of shit vamps usually are.”
Well, great for her.
“Didn’t introduce myself formally before,” he murmured and finally lifted those rip-me-open claws away from her. “Name’s Carlos Guerro.”
“I don’t care who you are!”
“No, you never did. That was part of the problem.” The faint lines around his eyes tightened. “You just wanted to drain me.”
She swallowed. The pain was making her nauseous and the throbs from the blisters wouldn’t stop. “He’ll be back,” she whispered. Keenan hadn’t deserted her. She’d seen the fierce rage in him. He’d gone after the hunters, but he’d be back.
“Good.” His smile flashed once more. “I’m rather counting on that, querida.”
Keenan’s entire focus centered on the hunter, Mike. Keenan’s motorcycle sped up as the bike ate up the road. He drove faster, faster.
As the group roared down the road, two of the men lost control of their bikes. They crashed and their bikes slid right off the road.
Mike didn’t slow at the crash. Just revved his engine, and drove faster.
Not fast enough.
Keenan had the bastard’s scent. Fear and fury and fire. Mike wouldn’t get away.
Keenan could still see Nicole’s tears.
His front wheel pushed into Mike’s bike. With a scream of metal, the hunter’s motorcycle flipped, sending that jerk flying through the air.
Mike’s two surviving men kept racing away. Keenan didn’t go after them. He’d get to them later.
The fire of his vision centered only on Mike, only on the man who was scrambling across the road, moving like a crab and laughing as blood poured from his nose.
“B-bitch is dead!”
Keenan’s fists were at his sides. “She didn’t plan to kill your brother. Another vampire forced her to attack him.” If this Mike was really a vampire hunter, he would know all about mind control and compulsions.
Mike lifted his gun. Aimed and fired.
The bullet never broke Keenan’s skin.
“What the fuck?”
“She gave you the chance to walk away.” Everything around him was red. The fury nearly blinded him. “Then you came back, and you burned her.” He shook his head. “It’s ending. You’re not hurting her again, you’re not—”
Mike’s laughter stopped him.
“Left ... her ...” Mike spat blood and what looked like a tooth onto the ground. “Fool ... did just what he ... said.”
The wind seemed to chill. “Who? Who said?”
More laughter. “Left her ... dead before you get back.”
No, her attackers had been gone. She’d still been conscious, and he’d stopped the fire. She’d said ...
I-I’m okay.
The breath burned in his lungs.
She’d been alive and ... he’d left her. The fury had been so strong and the need to punish driving him—
To kill.
“Bitch will ... s-suffer.”
His breath heaving out, Keenan stalked across the road. “No, she won’t.”
“She is!” Mike’s wild laughter tossed on the wind that shouldn’t be there. “She’s ... sufferin’ now.” His lips were curved wide, showing that bloody grin. “Justice.”
Keenan shook his head. Bull. No one was left to hurt Nicole. She was—
“He said you’d ... leave her.”
“He?” Get back to Nicole. The whisper filled in his mind and had his body tensing.
“He’ll kill her.” Mike’s laughter choked in his chest. “When you find ... her ... Vamp will be ripped open—”
Keenan lunged forward and grabbed Mike, yanking him up. “Who? Who’s after—”
Mike’s eyes widened. His breath rasped. Pain and fear tightened his face. “W-wings ...”
And he died.
He died.
Keenan stared down at his hands. Hands that had grabbed Mike.
One touch.
Death.
Keenan’s hands lifted. Mike’s body dropped to the ground, as hard as stone. Frozen in death.
Sam had been right. All the powers were coming back, and he’d just gotten the power he’d dreaded the most.
“No.” Keenan stumbled back and then stared up at the perfect blue sky. “No!”
If his touch could kill, then he couldn’t touch Nicole again. Couldn’t—
Vamp will be ... ripped open—
He couldn’t let her die. Keenan shoved back the rage and trapped it deep inside his body. He spun and ran back for the motorcycle. He’d stop whoever was after Nicole, stop him, kill him—with a touch.
Because the angel of death was back.
He could almost feel the beat of his wings as he raced down the highway.
When Sam came upon the battered motorcycles on the old highway, he smiled.
And knew that his plan was working.
He braked his truck—he rather enjoyed that truck—and climbed out to survey the wreckage. Two men, still alive. Groaning and twitching on the ground. One man ...
Sam walked closer, his booted feet thudding on the concrete.
One dead.
Sam’s head cocked as he crouched and
studied the body. Big Mike. A semi-legend in vampire-killing circles. Mike and his brother Jeff had followed the motto that the only good vamp was a dead one. So they’d staked every vamp they could find.
At least, they had until old Jeff had gotten good and drunk one night and let a sweet little newbie vamp with a good ass and a bad bite get too close.
The urge to fuck could blind even the smartest hunters.
Sam’s gaze tracked over the dead man. No wound that he could see. Not on the outside, anyway. But if Big Mike had died the way he suspected, the marks would be on the inside.
Smiling, Sam rose. So the Fallen had come into more of his old powers. Good. Keenan would probably be afraid now, and worried that every person he touched he’d kill.
Sam sauntered back to his truck.
Keenan should be afraid. Very afraid.
That was why Keenan would be so glad to see him. Ah, yes, the Fallen was just where he wanted him to be.
My game, my rules.
“Nicole!” Keenan yelled her name as he jumped from the motorcycle. Smoke rose, curling in the air above the dying fire. Blood stained the ground, but Nicole wasn’t there.
“Nicole!” His voice thundered out as he ran up the porch steps. Maybe she was inside. Maybe Mike had just been messing with his head.
Yes, she was inside. Probably cleaning her wounds or getting ready to rip into him for leaving her behind. She was inside. She had to be.
Two minutes later, he realized she was gone. All that remained was an empty house and a blood trail that led to the woods.
He stared at those woods. Had she gone chasing someone? He sucked in a breath and ran into the brush, trying to follow the light spray of blood that he saw on the ground. He shouted her name as he ran, afraid that he’d be too late.
Stay away from her, Az.
He hadn’t fallen just to lose her.
The woods cleared up ahead. An old, red dirt road cut through the trees. Fresh tire tracks had sank into the dirt.
The blood trail disappeared.
Gone.
No, not gone. Taken.
And he’d killed the one man who could lead him to her. Mike had told him ... He’ll kill her.
Who the hell was “he”?
Nicole was strong. She wouldn’t be easy prey.
But she’d been bleeding and covered in blisters and burns. His head tilted back as he glared up at the blue sky. The sunlight would work against her.
If she could just survive until night, until he found her ...
Stay alive.
Because if she died, there would be hell to pay.
He whirled and began running back to the house. Mike might be dead, but two of those bastards in his gang had survived. He’d find them and they would talk—or they’d die, too.
His legs pumped as he ran faster, faster, and the trees passed him in a blur.
Is she hurting?
He burst out of the woods—and found Sam lounging against the side of a shiny black pickup truck.
Sam lifted a brow when he saw Keenan. “Everything okay?”
He didn’t hesitate. He ran right for Sam. The Death Touch never worked on anyone with pure angel blood. So when he drove his fist into Sam’s stomach, he didn’t worry about killing the guy. It would take a lot more than a punch to kill Sam, but the jerk could be killed.
Sam took the punch and didn’t even flinch. “Ah ... good to see you, too, Keenan.”
Keenan grabbed his shirt. “Where is she?”
Sam blinked at that. “Uh, which she?”
His back teeth ground together. “Nicole.”
“Oh, yeah. Your little vamp.” Now his brows lowered as his gaze darted toward the house. “I thought she was inside.”
“No.” If Sam didn’t know where she was, Keenan was wasting his time. He thrust the guy back and jumped on the motorcycle.
But Sam was there beside him, moving with his enhanced speed, a speed that hadn’t returned fully to Keenan, not yet.
“Got the touch back, don’t you?” Sam asked and he was smiling.
Keenan revved the engine.
“I saw the little playdate you had with Big Mike out on the highway.” Sam’s appreciative whistle rose even over the howl of the motorcycle. “Playing rough, are you?”
Big Mike.
His head turned, slowly, and red began to flicker over his vision once more. “How did you know I was out here?”
Sam shrugged. His eyes didn’t waver. “I knew the minute you bought this place. Little happens in New Orleans that I don’t know about.”
Time seemed to slow down. No—maybe he just moved real fast. Because in the next second, the motorcycle was on the ground and he had his hands around Sam’s throat.
Sam was still smiling. “Gettin’ your speed back, too.”
“Little happens that you don’t know about?” His voice was a growl, all he could manage right then with the fury choking him. “You knew Big Mike, you knew where I was hiding with Nicole—you knew it all! Dammit, where is she?”
“Easy.” Sam wasn’t fighting back, yet. “I don’t—”
“It was a trap! They came at her with bullets and fire while she was weak. When I went after them—”
Sam knocked his hands away. “You shouldn’t have left your girl. You never leave her behind, not if you—”
“They tried to kill her! They weren’t getting away!”
Sam nodded. “Still don’t have control, do you? I thought ... after six months ... maybe you’d be used to the emotions by now.” He rocked back on his heels. “Guess not.”
“Where is she!”
Sam stabbed a finger in Keenan’s chest. “Get control. Emotions are shit. They screw with your head. Fear. Anger. Need. Lust. Humans are born with those feelings, and they still drive them crazy. What do you think they do to beings who’ve been without ’em for centuries?”
They tear me apart.
Like Nicole’s captor was tearing her apart?
The wind whipped against his face.
“Control,” Sam snapped out. “If you lose it, you’ll be no good to her.”
“I have to find her!”
“Then let me help you.” Sam’s voice seemed so sincere. The guy was very good at controlling his image, Keenan knew that. “I know where Mike’s men would run. I can show you where they went to lick their wounds.”
“If she dies ...”
“That will really suck, won’t it? You fell to save her, and those bastards up there still take her from you.” Sam’s voice thickened. “ ’Bout time someone showed those assholes that they aren’t the only game in town. ’Bout time they realized even precious angels can suffer.”
Keenan swallowed his rage. Control. “Take me to them.”
“You’ll owe me if I do,” Sam said, his eyes watchful.
“Take. Me.To.Them.”
“Then I guess we have a deal.” Sam held out his hand. “I was coming out here to say I’d have your back, that you could count on me.” He still sounded so sincere, but Sam’s eyes showed no emotion. “I never expected to find ... this.”
Keenan couldn’t believe him.
Sam’s offered hand didn’t drop. “Do we have a deal? I’ll help you ... and when the time comes, you help me.”
Help you do what? Did it matter? He grabbed Sam’s hand. “Deal.”
Brimstone teased his nose.
“Then let’s go find those hunters.” Sam’s smile was evil. “And make ’em beg to tell us everything they know.”
Keenan nodded and finally realized just how far he had fallen.
Because the brimstone scent wasn’t coming from Sam.
From me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
She wasn’t dead. Why wasn’t she dead? Nicole sat up, but didn’t rise far. Her arms were chained to the floor. Thick, dark metal chains secured her.
Where was she? The last thing she remembered ... Carlos had been—
Carlos.
He wasn’t a human.
Wasn’t just prey. He was a shifter.
Which brought back the question ... why was she still alive?
And not just alive. She tested those chains again. When she stretched her arms, she didn’t feel the lash of pain. She was weak, yeah, but the blisters were gone, and the wounds in her shoulder and side were healed. Night had fallen, she could tell that instinctively, but the darkness wouldn’t have healed her. She would have needed blood.
Blood she hadn’t gotten.
A metal door groaned open and a musky scent teased her nose. “Awake, are you?” Carlos shuffled inside, then came to a quick stop.
It was dark in there, but her vamp senses were enhanced so that she could see him perfectly, and she saw the surprise that flashed across Carlos’s face.
He didn’t expect me to be healed, either.
So she’d definitely not gotten any blood. But she felt great. Why?
Keenan. The answer whispered through her mind. His blood was different, and it was starting to make her stronger.
“How the hell did you do that?” He sprang at her. His hands slid down her arms. His claws scratched her skin. “You were barely alive. How did you—”
She lunged for his neck.
He swore and dove back.
“Careful there, shifter,” she taunted, “get close enough again, and I’ll rip your throat open.” And, oh, but she wished she had her silver bullets right then. But no, that gun she’d taken from the feeding room was back at Keenan’s. She hadn’t thought she’d need silver in order to fight off humans.
Carlos was on his ass now, and his eyes glittered at her. His claws scraped across the cement because, yeah, she was sitting on hard cement, in some kind of locked room.
No, wait. Her gaze darted to the left. That window—it was stained glass. Her nostrils twitched. She could smell the shifter now—won’t ever forget what that woodsy smell means again—but she could also smell ...
Death.
He laughed. “Figured it out, did you? Well, hell, I thought ... what better place to store you?”
Than a cemetery.
She was in a mausoleum. One that had been altered to include her chains. At least he’d taken out the dead body.
But she suspected he had plans to leave another body, hers, in its place. “Why am I still breathing?”