The angel swivels his attention to me, the heat of his glare hot on my skin. Pft. He’s too smart to pick a fight with me. I could lift him like a bag of feathers and put him through the window. I shoot a glance over my shoulder to the front window that’s been taped up with duct tape and patched with cardboard. I can feel Damien’s glower mingled with Gabe’s, drilling into the back of my skull.
If I break his window again, he’ll kick me out for good, and I’ll be reduced to drinking with humans.
“Come on, lay off him,” the bartender warns, his tone sharp. “You don’t know what he’s been through tonight. Let the man enjoy his drink.”
I know a little of what the guardian had been through tonight. He’s been inside a woman, that’s for sure, and he didn’t bother washing off afterward. When you walk into a bar full of angel shifters knowing they can smell someone break wind a block away, it’s just rude.
“Seems like he’s doing fine to me, seeing as he smells of cunt and all. Tell us, what’d you stick your cock in that’s driven you to the drink?” I tut, giving him a mocking grin. “Don’t tell me it was your ward? You know you can lose your wings that way?”
Gabriel is looking at me with a scalding gleam behind his eyes, like a spark that might jump to life and consume me like a raging fire. Beyond his thinly veiled rage, there’s the unmistakable face of guilt.
Hmm, I think I guessed right. He is slipping it to his human. That’s a big no-no. If he’s caught having carnal relations with a human, he could be sitting in the same spot as me.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” he says with a steely air.
“Hmph. You’ve grown teeth since I last saw you. Why so defensive? You’ve got a look that stinks of guilt, I can smell it from here.”
The furious look on his beet-red face all but confirms my theory.
“Are you looking for a fight, Gideon? Trying to feel something? All the alcohol in the world and my fist crushing your skull to wash it all down isn’t going to bring Elise back. So, how ‘bout you fuck off?”
My anger resides inside itself. His words cut deep, and I’m reminded that I am being a drunken fool. A shameful asshole. I look down at my drink, staring at the reflection of the fallen angel in the last remaining trances of dark liquid. Even my own reflection scares me. I’m a handsome bastard, at least to the people who like the strong-jawed, built like a wall type with scars and tattoos covering every inch of my body. But my eyes are sunken in with dark shadows that seem to seep into other parts of me, staining me with darkness I’ve reveled in for much too long.
I stare at my reflection in the murky liquid for what feels like an eternity. When I look up, I realize only half an hour has passed. It’s getting late and Gabriel and the other bar patrons clear out, leaving Damien to clean up.
“Get out of here, will you? I don’t want to see you tomorrow.” His tone is soft, understanding. He thinks he knows what I’m going through but he doesn’t. I nod, grumble a thanks, and get up from my stool. I fumble with my wallet and slap a few bills down on the bar without paying attention to what they are. I really need to watch my budget now that my stipend from Paradise has been cut in half. By Damien’s shouts of protest, I’d left too much of a tip, but I ignore him as I stumble out of the bar in a drunken stupor.
Everything is spinning, I had more to drink than I thought. Shoving the front door open, the cool Seattle air hits me like a slap to the face. I mull Damien’s words from earlier over in my head.
You need to find your purpose, something better. If only the world could be so kind.
Just as I step out onto the curb, my muscular frame collides with someone small and soft. The tiny body elicits a string of curses and I find myself reeling back, afraid that I’ve hurt whatever unfortunate soul who crossed my path.
“Ow! Shit, watch where you’re going—” The woman whose head barely reaches my shoulder cranes her neck to look up at me, wearing an annoyed scowl. As my gaze locks with hers, my entire body goes numb and my knees go weak underneath me.
No, it’s impossible. I’ve been drinking, sure. But am I so inebriated that I’m hallucinating the face of my deceased ward, standing in front of me wearing that signature glare of hers? I’ve imagined her before, but this is different. The woman before me is solid, more filled out, and healthier-looking than the time I last saw her, but there’s no mistaking her for a cruel trick of my mind.
It’s really her.
Elise
Chapter 3
Sophie
I’ve found him.
I’ve found the man who is quite possibly responsible for my sister’s death. I told myself when I found him, I would be brave. I’d be vicious, ruthless. It would go against every fiber of my personality. Because I’m not any of those things.
I was only like my sister in the sense that I too value my solitude, but while she wore her armor in the form of scabs and track marks and harsh words, my silence is my armor. I live a quiet life, even for a bartender. It’s the perfect job. All I have to do is make drinks and listen. I have to put up with the occasional creep, but nothing more than that.
So, the fact that I actually drove to Seattle, all the way from my home in Portland, to confront the mysterious man who was at my sister’s funeral, is absolutely insane. The funeral was three months ago, that day I couldn’t take my eyes off the scary guy in the back with black eyes and a presence that might make Batman think twice if they were to meet in an ally. Because this man looks like a villain, with his neck tattoos and a body that’d put Bane to shame. I couldn’t believe it when I decided to follow him to this bar that day, and three months later that, after fantasizing about confronting him, I’m finally here.
I’m either braver than I thought or I’ve got a death wish.
No matter how vile or dangerous he could be, I need to find out what happened to my sister. The law failed on that front. No matter how intimidating he is, with his wide jaw and his biceps as thick as my thighs, I can’t turn back now. I can’t let him see the real me and how terrified I am at this moment.
He towers over me, his shadow engulfing me and his dark gaze consumes. Those obsidian eyes don’t reflect the flickering sign of the bar, but they should. Instead, they’re like black holes that pull everything in, including me.
I’m paralyzed under his piercing stare.
My mouth goes dry, and my pulse quickens.
He’s regarding me in a way that a dark god might look upon a prized sacrifice. I’m completely enamored in the mysterious and commanding aura that surrounds him. And good lord, being up close to him now I realize how sinfully gorgeous he is, as beautiful as he is intimidating, with bulging neck muscles and thick arms covered in tattoos…religious tattoos.
Funny, I wouldn’t take him for the religious type. He looks like the kind of guy a mafia boss might hire as his personal thug. Maybe he’s an Italian catholic, with his dark hair, heavy jewelry only an Italian can pull off, and the tattoo of the Virgin Mary peeking out from the sleeve of his black t-shirt.
What is happening?
This is the man who could have killed my sister yet…there’s something else to him I can’t put my finger on. A chaotic mess of emotions rises inside my chest, making it difficult to breathe. But Through the wave of confusion and feelings this man invokes within, one word blares in my mind.
Danger.
This man is lethal.
My brain doesn’t send that message to my body. With the way my core heats and my womanhood clenches and quivers in the presence of this dark entity, I’m like an animal in heat. I feel this strange pull towards him and I haven’t the slightest idea why.
The man moves forward, devouring the distance between us with one long stride. I try to move back, but I’m pinned underneath the weight of his stare.
“Elise,” he whispers, tone tinged with disbelief. For a moment, it looks like he might reach out to touch me, as if to pinch me to see if I’m real. The deep timbre of his voice is gravely, yet st
rangely melodic. My sister’s name skates down my skin, covering me in goosebumps. He looks like he has seen a ghost, and upon hearing him call me Elise, he thinks he has.
“I’m not Elise,” I manage to utter. I hate how weak my voice sounds. “I’m her twin sister, Sophie. I’ve come here to get some answers from you.”
His expression shifts from disbelief, to confusion, to understanding. A spark lights behind his eyes for a moment, as if he remembered a time Elise might have mentioned a sister. Judging by the fact that he was as white as a sheet, he didn’t know it was a twin sister.
“Twin?” he asks in a way that suggests that he almost doesn’t believe me, like I’m a trick of the light. By his glazed look and the stagger of his strong legs when I bumped into him, he’s completely sloshed. “Sophie…”
My skin prickles and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I can’t fathom why, but a strange feeling comes over me when I hear my name from his mouth.
“Yes, her twin sister, Sophie. Did she ever mention me?”
His gaze scrapes over me, as if he still doesn’t trust his eyes. He leans over me until he’s so close his masculine, musky scent invades my nostrils. My mouth begins to water. His scent is masculine, fine leather tinged with the faintest notes of honied whiskey.
“I knew she had a sister, didn’t know much else. We weren’t close.”
My body stiffens. How dare he act so casual when speaking about my sister, a woman he might have killed. I want to yell, to beat my fists against that chiseled chest, and to curse his name at the top of my lungs for all of Seattle to hear.
But I can’t bring myself to do any of those things. Instead, I only glare at him with the same intensity that rivals his own penetrating glower.
“You were at her funeral.”
His black gaze darkens, and his jaw ticks twice as he regards me in a way that has my skin crawling and my pussy melting all at once.
“Is that how you found me? You followed me to my bar?”
“Is that all you have to say to me?”
I can tell he’s trying to shake himself free of his drunken stupor. It doesn’t seem to be working. “S-sorry for your loss,” he says after what feels like several tense minutes of the most awkward of stare contests I’ve ever been party to.
There is something…strange between us. The air is electric. It’s when a bolt of lightning strikes the sky during a raging storm, a beautiful and deadly spectacle that takes you by surprise in the dead of night. I can’t seem to rip myself away from whatever danger brews in the dark gaze of this forbidden stranger.
He’s so terrifyingly beautiful, and the way he regards me is doing nothing for my nerves. His eyes are as black as the devil’s soul. They bore into my skull, like they’re trying to figure out all of my secrets I keep locked deep inside. His face is only inches from mine.
“Why did you come?” he demands in a quaking voice that rattles me to the bone.
I open my mouth to answer, but I pause. If I tell him I’m investigating my sister’s murder, and him, her murderer, the chances are slim that I won’t meet the same, sad end. My throat constricts as I allow my gaze to briefly flicker from him to the street. It’s late but this is a busy road. If I scream, I’ll turn heads.
But something else is seated even deeper than that little voice in my head telling me this man is dangerous. It’s hardly more than a whisper, a small gut feeling, but it’s there all the same. I have no evidence to prove otherwise but somehow deep down I get the sense that this man didn’t kill my sister.
Maybe he was her pimp or drug dealer. Or even her lover, but not her killer.
I look back at the hulking figure of a man with the body of a spartan. Hmm, maybe not her lover. Elise wasn’t well. She didn’t date guys like this, and there is some dark aura around this man that clings to him like gas; an intoxicating, dangerous, and alluring poison. My sister preferred her poison in a liquid and powdered form. I doubt she would have entangled her heart with this exotic creature.
“I followed you here after the funeral. You practically live in this dive.”
His eyes flash and nostrils flare. I resist the urge to flinch.
“You already said you followed me.”
The way he’s looking at me, it looks like he might kiss me. That, or rip my face off. Whatever he does, it will be executed with passion and precision, I’m sure of that.
“I’m investigating my sister’s murder,” I blurt.
What the hell? Why am I vomiting the truth onto his boots? What happened to being coy and playing my cards carefully? I had planned and plotted so meticulously over the past months and now that I’m finally facing him I’m acting like a nervous school girl in the presence of a crush.
“She wasn’t murdered, she committed suicide,” he rasps. I’m unsure if it’s from his drunken state or the fact that he looks like he’s holding back tears but his cheeks are as red as mine. He’s…trying not to cry. Holy shit. I can’t believe it. The tears look foreign, whelming in the eyes of a brute like him.
He’s completely distraught over Elise’s death, that much is clear. That, or he’s the world’s best actor.
This guy didn’t murder Elise. It’s not just the tears that clue me in. When he first saw me, underneath the shock was joy. Like he was overjoyed that she was alive, despite the impossibility of it all. But that still begged the question, who was he? And why was a guy like this hanging out with someone like Elise?
“You’re wrong. Elise would never have taken her own life, she was too strong spirited. She had a rough lifestyle living in the shadows, and something in those shadows killed my sister. I’m sure of it.”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. He doesn’t make any move to put distance between us, instead he stays right where he is. He’s so hot, like a heater. His warmth radiates off of him and seeps into me, chasing away the crisp night air.
“Who? Who killed her?” His eyes narrow into deadly slits. This sudden masculine show of possessive protection for a dead woman isn’t anything like I expected from this stranger that had stepped out of Elise’s past and into her funeral. I had prepared for many outcomes, but not this. Something about it is darkly erotic.
Oh god. Sophie, get your mind out of the gutter. You don’t even know who or what this man is, I tell myself. That’s the truth of it, I don’t know this guy. So, why is my heart aching like I’ve been reunited with a piece of my heart I didn’t know was missing?
That’s stupid, impossible.
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out who it is.”
“How?”
“I —” My cheeks flush red in a furious blush. I realize I don’t have a game plan. This, this was my game plan. Confront the only suspect. Well, that’s done and it’s not going at all how I had imagined it.
“I don’t know. Questioning you was my first step.”
“No step two?” The corner of his mouth twitches, almost though he’s holding back a smile. Is he mocking me?
“No step two,” I breathe.
“You can’t really think I killed her.”
He’s right, but he shouldn’t know that. This time I return his pointed glare. “You don’t know what I think.”
“If you thought me to be the murderer and you knew where to find me all along, you would’ve gone to the police weeks ago. A desire to avenge your sister might be what compelled you to follow me here after the funeral. But now a different desire has brought you here.”
Desire? Is this guy really saying what I think he’s saying? He’s handsome as all get out, and my traitorous body doesn’t seem to know he’s bad news.
That, or it doesn’t care.
My heart lurches into a mad frenzy at what he’s suggesting. “If you think I came here to—” I can’t even make myself say it.
The man’s brow lifts and this time, those sinfully delicious lips curve into a wry grin. “To fuck?”
“No!”
To my fury, the beast o
f a man issues a gravely chuckle and combs a mammoth hand through his dark locks. It’s almost like he’s sniffing the air, his nostrils flare. “Not sure If I believe that, but that wasn’t what I meant. Something else brought you here. Can’t you feel it now? It’s like a magnet.”
“I feel nothing,” I lie.
“Mmm,” his mouth curls into a troubled frown as a heavy sigh coats his lips. “You’ve got a strange energy that clings to your skin, like a fine perfume. You smell of misery, peril, and desire all at once. A reticence that tends to bring out the monsters that hide in the shadows. ”
I snort at the absurdity. “So what, you’re trying to tell me you can smell what exactly? Danger? What are you, like a bodyguard with a super sniffer?”
He tenses and his mouth presses into a hard line. “Something like that, ‘least I used to be.”
“Well, you must have been a shit bodyguard, because your girlfriend is dead.”
A soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could swallow them back. But I can already see the impact stricken across his face like a battle wound. Line etch his face where the pain runs deep.
From the few minutes I spent in his presence, I had come to the conclusion that he hadn’t killed my sister. It’s obvious her death haunts him, hanging over him like a storm cloud. The remorse and guilt that plagues his eyes would be void had he been the one to pull that trigger.
I’m surprised with myself that I am not pulling my punches. Maybe I’m infuriated with being attracted to this stranger in a way I’ve never experienced with anyone, not ever.
“Girlfriend? No.” He gives a sharp jerk of his head as if the idea offends him. “No, Elise wasn’t my mate.”
Mate? This guy was getting weirder by the second. “So what? Were you her pimp? Her drug dealer?”
“Just a friend. A lousy one.”
A friend. I snort. This guy doesn’t exactly fit the bill of the sorry bastards that frequented Elise’s life. He’s drunk off his ass, but he doesn’t look like he’s addicted to heroin, nor the type to peddle flesh in the back alleys of Seattle.
Claimed by my Dark Angel: A Forbidden Paranormal Romance (Saints to Sinners Book 1) Page 2