Ashes of Angels

by Michele Hauf

  I focused the persuasion. Just a little deeper…

  Her long, dark lashes fluttered. Any moment now the halo would be mine.

  “Wh-what are you doing to me?” She put up her free hand to block the unseen intrusion. “I can feel you trying to control… Are you a—? Are you a vampire?”

  Ouch. This woman was in the know. My persuasion scattered and dropped. She turned to run.

  “Guess I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

  I beat her to the ottoman center of the hallway, and wrapped an arm about her shoulders as I landed on the big comfy island. Pulling her shoulders against my chest, I bent to sink my fangs into her juicy, thick jugular.

  Blood oozed down my throat. Sweet mercy. When was the last time I’d sipped so fine a vintage? Mortals tended to be polluted with fast food and pharmaceuticals. This woman tasted pure, sweet and a little like chocolate. Delicious.

  But I had a task to tend.

  Reaching about with my free hand, I groped for the halo, but she flailed madly, and it was hard enough keeping her neck at my mouth.

  A kick from beneath her fussy skirts proved ineffectual. I clamped my hand over her mouth just as she screamed. Her wide eyes did not look at me, but instead, over my shoulder.

  The door behind us slammed against the wall.

  We both turned to spy the hulking angel, with wrought-iron wings extended out thirty feet behind him, smack a fist into his palm.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Chapter Two

  I recognized the man with shoulders wider than an armored truck as an angel even before I saw the wings spread out behind him and creak like the black iron they resembled.

  An angel’s wings are forged from the materials of their innate skill—the craft they’d taught mortals after Falling and had been punished for because supposedly the Arts had been sinful back then. This one must have been an ironsmith.

  I clutched the halo until I thought surely my palm would bleed. My neck hurt. The vampire had torn his fangs from my vein when the angel walked in.

  I had not expected to encounter a vampire tonight. Most especially, not a vampire sporting shocking white hair and a scar cutting from his forehead, through eyebrow and eye, and ending at his jaw. His scarred eye was cloudy white. Creepier than fangs, let me tell you.

  But right now the vampire was the one thing standing between the growling angel and me, so I wasn’t going to be picky about appearance. I tucked myself behind the ottoman just as a blade swung through the air.

  Freaky appearance aside, the vampire was tall, lean and wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off sculpted muscles only seen in the movies. He was ripped, and yes, I had to slap a palm over my heart. Be still, pitter-pattering heart. Vampires are not sexy.

  He swung some kind of chain that sported a nasty scythed blade on the end of it. And did he have the moves. Twirling it overhead in a whir of silver, he then slashed it down before him to detour the charging angel.

  The vampire dropped to his back, rolled and came up with a slash of the blade that cut through the angel’s thigh. Blue blood spattered the air.

  Granny Stevens had taught Cassandra and I the lore on angels, so the blue blood didn’t surprise me. But this was the first time I’d seen a real Fallen one in the so-called flesh. I wasn’t about to shake its hand or offer to do lunch with it.

  The Fallen wanted what I had.

  Now I noticed the halo clutched to my chest glowed blue. “Damn.” Blue meant one thing; it belonged to this particular angel.

  I thrust out my hand, displaying the palm with the mehndi sigils on it. Not sure if it would work as a repellent but I wasn’t going to take any chances in case my protector failed.

  The vampire soared through the air and landed the ottoman with an oof! He flipped over backward, landing behind me on the floor, crouched and sported a ferocious sneer.

  Then the bravery struck. And don’t ask me where it came from.

  “I’ll get it!”

  I popped up and wielded the halo like a Frisbee—I had been Frisbee champion in twelfth grade. Just as I sent it soaring toward the angel’s neck, the vampire landed on my back, slapping my arm down.

  “What the bloody hell did you do that for?” he gasped hotly against my face.

  “Don’t worry, it’s supposed to come back like a—”

  “A bleedin’ boomerang. Love, that only works for the original owner.”

  “Oh, no.” Really? I don’t think Granny ever told us that little detail.

  “Duck!”

  The vampire shoved me to the floor. I caught myself on palms and stomach, cell phone skittering across the hardwood. His body landed on top of mine, flattening me.

  I heard the whooshing skim of the halo over our bodies, and saw it turn in the air at the opposite end of the hallway. It nicked a painting of naked nymphs and soared back toward the thrower. The angel caught the halo, gargled out a wicked chuckle and stomped out of the hall.

  The vampire’s fist beat the floor next to my face. “Damn it!”

  “Sorry,” I muttered and kicked at him to get off me. “I didn’t know. I’ve got to go after it.”

  Grabbing my phone, I started toward the door, but my skirt caught on something and I went down, ungracefully landing on all fours.

  The vampire released my skirt. Of all the— Blood puddled on the floor near my hand. Sitting up, I noticed the bleeding wounds on his back. The halo had cut through his shirt and sheered him from hip to shoulder.

  “You’re hurt!”

  He snickered and pushed up to kneel. Easing back his wounded shoulder, he winced. “Guess I’ve you to thank for losing both the trophy and my skin. What’s your name, love? So I can burn it from my memory. No, wait. No name will suffice.”

  “Coco,” I blurted. Screw him for blaming me for his inability to dodge low enough.

  Oh, Coco. He saved you!

  “Coco. As in Chanel?”

  “No, as in Rococo. My parents had a thing for Louis the Fifteenth. Now, I’d love to stick around and chat, but I have a halo to go after.”

  The bird had spunk. I liked that. But she wasn’t going to cock up the nab for me again. I’d been so close!

  “You’re not going anywhere.” I coiled up the chain.

  “It’s my halo!”

  “Yeah?” Pretty, the way she held her tiny fists like that. It would be too easy for an angel to break her. “Fine. I don’t need the halo, but I do need the angel attached to said halo. I almost had him.”

  “Oh, right, I noticed you had him when you were dodging the halo from hell.”

  I gave her the mongoose eye; it wasn’t quite evil, mostly admonishing with a trim of evil.

  Hooking the chain at my hip, I slicked the blue blood off the blade. Nasty stuff, that. I had no desire to taste it because I liked all my bits the way they were currently configured. Vampire drinks angel blood? Kaboom!

  On the other hand, the blood from a Nephilim…

  “What are you?” She followed as I stomped out of the hall, veering away from the ridiculous music. “Some kind of ninja vampire?”

  How did she—? Right. I’d forgotten about the bite. I was in too much pain to care about such a tasty lick right now. I’d just had half my back flayed off, no thanks to her.

  The side of her neck bled, and she was tripping on her torn skirt, but she managed to keep up with me as I angled toward a door I knew opened onto a private alley.

  “Name’s Zane,” I offered. “No ninja blood in me.” Not lately, anyway.

  I kicked open the door, ignoring her stupid quest to follow.

  “Wait!” She managed to catch up and shoved me. Hard. “Sorry,” she offered, rubbing my blood off on her red skirts. She’d slapped me firmly on the abraded flesh, which was only half-healed.

  “No problem, love. Hurt me all you like. I favor the rough stuff.”

  “I’m going with you,” she said in an unsure voice that belonged home polishing furniture and cooking up dinner
s, all with a bouffant and manicure.

  “You are not.”

  I let my eyes roam over her ridiculous attire. Hardly angel-tracking wear. And yet the fantasy of pushing up those skirts and kneeling beneath them to lick her until she moaned popped into my dirty little brain. I’d tasted her once. I did favor sweets.

  Coco held up a finger to request my pause. I almost turned away, but the tearing seams proved more tantalizing than tracking the angel blood spotting the blacktop.

  She tore away the red bodice from the sexy black corset. Ripping methodically, she removed the skirt, beneath which she wore slim-fitted black leggings. “Besides,” she said, “I have information you need. I know where the muse lives.”

  I tilted a nod of appreciation, both for her attire—from eighteenth-century princess to sexy, modern cat burglar—and her knowledge. Then I slammed her against the wall.

  Pressing her shoulders back, I moved in. Hip to hip. Chest to oh-so-luscious chest. “I’ve changed my mind about you, Coco. I like you.”

  “Is it my sparkling personality or my knowledge about the muse?”

  “Actually, it’s your gorgeous tits and sweet blood. I haven’t tasted anything so smooth since that bottle of 1870 whiskey that went down in one night. Do you know you taste like chocolate?”

  “Really? Must have been the mousse I snagged from the buffet earlier. Okay, so I went back for seconds. Sue me. You’re very close—”

  I lunged to bite again, but her palm smacked my mouth hard. Ouch, that hurt the fangs!

  “Not so fast, vampire. You want to get all up close and personal? The fangs gotta stay out of sight.”

  “Is that so?” I hooked my fingers behind the corset, between the tempting warmth of her breasts, and tugged her closer. “Fine.”

  She didn’t expect the kiss. Hell, I hadn’t expected it, either. But it was as unavoidable as a bomb ticking down the last two seconds.

  I crushed her lips, bruising them with the frustration of having lost the halo. How dare she steal from me? Miss Coco in her sexy corset and chocolate-mousse kisses. Lips covering my teeth, I sucked in her lower lip. Her body melded to mine, matching curves to hard planes.

  And then I pressed a soft kiss to her mouth because she demanded it with a whimper. That wanting sound seeped through my pores and shocked my system with some kind of persuasion I’d never been privy to. Vamps can’t be persuaded. And yet…

  I surrender, precious mortal. What do you want from me?

  Chapter Three

  I had never kissed a man like this before. Standing in a dark alley, outside a fabulous estate, having purloined a valued object from a hideous modern artwork. Bodies crushed to one another in subtle desperation. Fingers moved over clothing, seeking the warmth of flesh, the promise of connection. Breaths inhaled. Mouths dancing. Teeth daring.

  He thought he was forcing himself on me, the ineffectual little halo thief who had fallen into his arms. But I liked his powerful manner, his aggressive stance. His macho threat to control. This man—this vampire.

  Wait.

  I shoved him from my mouth. He winced and shook his head. A smirk revealed sexy white teeth—and fangs.

  “You bit me!” I protested.

  “Right, love, thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot that I didn’t take time to seal the wound. Don’t want you vamping out before the next full moon. Better fix that.”

  The intrusion of his fangs in my neck hurt because he sunk them into the previous bite marks. I nudged up my knee, hoping to hit the family jewels, because this time his aggression was real, and not a play at romance.

  I thought the vampire’s kiss was supposed to be so sexy, so erotic, so…

  My arms dropped at my sides. As did my apprehensions.

  Okay, so maybe there was something to this being bitten thing. My body hummed. I could feel the blood gush through my system, pricking at my nerve endings with a soft, sensual zing. All parts of me grew warm and tingly. Was that a moan? Oh, yes, that felt so…right. I pressed my legs together because I felt it in my loins. That sweet, sensitive spot felt as though he were tracing it with his tongue.

  Oh, mercy…

  Zane stopped sucking at my neck and dragged his tongue over the punctures. “Whew! Your blood makes a guy wish he could fall in love.”

  He stepped back, shaking his fingers out at his sides and bouncing a bit.

  I exhaled, lost in a heady spin of sensations. Tentatively, I touched the twin wounds. “You can’t?”

  Cocky now, he swaggered up to me and whispered aside my ear. “Monsters don’t get to fall in love.”

  “Maybe I like monsters.” Yikes. Where had that weird confession come from?

  I trailed my fingertips down his face, aside the nasty scar. I wanted to ask him about it, but really I wanted to get to the climax his bite had almost brought me to.

  I lunged in for another kiss. His arms didn’t wrap about my hips, instead I sensed he held them up as if being robbed.

  “I’m not going to steal from you,” I murmured against his firm lips. They were beautiful, made for my mouth. So I kissed them again. And again. And I dashed my tongue inside to trace his lower teeth, but daren’t flick it up for fear of his sharp fangs.

  “Whoa, love.” He pressed me against the wall, but did not hold me there with his body. “You’re acting kind of silly now.”

  I teased a fingertip at the corner of my mouth. “It’s called flirting.”

  “It’s called the swoon. You get giddy from my bite. Orgasmic, even.”

  “Not quite. I need more giddy.”

  Encircling his neck with my arms, I rubbed up against him, angry that the stupid corset was so rigid and while I could feel his taut muscles, he probably couldn’t feel how hard my nipples were. Oh, but they ached for his tongue.

  Now he kissed me, and this time it was deep and lingering and laced with our throaty moans. I hooked a leg up along his hip and he lifted, holding me there, so strong, so dominant. I devoured what he gave me. A stolen sigh. A pulse of muscle against my thigh. A desirous moan in his deep, British tones.

  “There’s no time to waste,” he said against my mouth. “We find the angel, and I promise we will finish what we started here. But you gotta take me to the muse’s home, love. You don’t want the angel to beat us there, do you?”

  Shocked out of the giddy, I nodded. “Right. Must protect the muse.”

  Man, the guy had some kind of powerful pheromones. I wobbled and pressed a hand to the brick wall so he wouldn’t think I was drunk.

  Deep breath, Coco. Ahh…

  “That way. About ten blocks.”

  Twice now I’d sipped from Coco. She was sweeter than I remembered cocoa being, and I did remember it. I’d only been vamp about ten years. Hot chocolate had once been a favorite drink. Her skin was the same color—cocoa satin—and it begged to be licked.

  What the hell was I doing, allowing this bird to accompany me on what could prove the most dangerous encounter I’d had in years? Though it had healed, my back still ached. New scars always did pull a bit. I knew it would scar permanently. Wasn’t like a normal injury that would heal up with fresh skin. That halo was divine—it left an indelible mark. And while religious objects could fatally wound baptized vampires, I had not been baptized, which I was thankful for right now.

  I had my own divine weapon, and I wished I didn’t have to use it up close and personal. Thanks, Coco, for tossing the angel the halo.

  Ah, well, it made for a more interesting evening.

  “So how’s a pretty bird like you know about muses and angels and vampires?” I prompted as she strode down a cobbled street beside me. This neighborhood in Bayswater was ritzy, but a man didn’t have to walk far to hit a scruffy spot.

  “My sister is a muse.” Her voice was unnaturally bubbly. She shouldn’t be so enthusiastic about this adventure. And when she slipped her hand in mine, I almost jerked it free, because I did not do Sunday walks in the park.

  I clasped her fingers
. It wasn’t Sunday, and we weren’t headed toward a park, that was sure.

  “Granny told us all about muses and the Fallen. We didn’t learn about the vampires’ involvement until recently. Oh, hell.”

  She stopped abruptly, tugging her hand from mine as if it were coated with acid. “Are you…? What was the name of that tribe…?”

  I cocked my head to the side, marveling over the dimple that formed at the corner of her eye when she squinted in thought. A bloke could lose himself in that sweet spot.

  “Anakim?” I suggested.

  “You are?” She looked about for escape, so I grabbed her shoulders and forced her to see me with a trace of persuasion to calm her panic. “But that makes you—”

  “I didn’t say I was Anakim, love. And I’m not going to say. I’m just Zane.”

  “The ninja vampire?” Her nervous, yet hopeful smile beamed through my chest and warmed my heart. Silly girl, I’d meant it about us monsters.

  “Right, the ninja vampire.” It sounded like I should be sporting tights and pow-banging my way through a comic book. I was not ninja, but why spoil the fun? “So you’re trying to get this halo for your sister?”

  “Yes. She may be able to use it as a weapon against the Fallen, should one come for her.”

  Fallen angels were attracted to a muse, one particular mortal female matched to one particular angel. The Fallen had sex with the muse—usually not consensual—in hopes of creating Nephilim progeny.

  And a whole lot of nothing good happened after that.

  “I don’t think the halo works as an effective weapon unless wielded by a Fallen,” I said.

  “Maybe. It’s worth a try, though,” she said. “And it gives hope.”

  “The halo? Hope seems a flimsy weapon, you ask me.”

  “You of so little faith.”

  “You got that right. Lacking faith has kept this vampire in one piece, let me tell you.” I absently stroked the scar dashing my cheek.

  “We’re here.”

  I scanned up the apartment building, following Coco’s gesture to the second floor. All the windows were dark, but then, it was after midnight.