Protected in Darkness (Misplaced Halos, 1)

by Nicole Edwards

  “Perhaps I’ll have to give her a spin on it, show her how wrong you are.”

  “Well, as soon as we get these jackasses into the light, I’ll race you back there. You get to her first, you can plead your case.”

  Reidar nodded. “Deal.”

  Ready to get the show on the road, Obsidian peered at Reidar, then Taayin. “You two want to quit dicking around and get to work?”

  As though choreographed, the three of them stepped forward, closing in on the impietans.

  “What’s up, big boy?” Reidar taunted the blond idiot who’d stopped to stare at him. “Don’t tell me they’re not even gonna try.”

  The disappointment in the male’s tone made Obsidian laugh.

  Evidently, that was the trigger, because the one nearest Obsidian squealed, that high-pitched obnoxious sound that only came from a demon. The thing lunged, impaling itself on the black blade he wielded, its human form igniting in a flash of blue light, leaving a sludgy mess in its wake.

  Too easy.

  “You’d think Perfidious would make these things smarter,” Taayin called out, another blue light flashing.

  You’d think.

  Then again, it wasn’t necessary because these things were meant purely to destroy. Having no decision-making abilities, they were programmed not to defend, but to attack in whatever vicious, vile way they could. Every now and then, they’d encounter one who’d been a thug in its previous life, one familiar with guns. Those were the best because Perfidious failed to inform them bullets couldn’t kill angels.

  Another blue light flashed. It was enough of a distraction to have two of the others peering away. Reidar aimed for one; Obsidian took out the other. That left one more, and it seemed to be more entertained by the flashing lights than anything else.

  Obsidian stopped moving, coming to stand beside Taayin.

  “Sometimes I feel sorry for these guys,” he told the male before impaling the asshole with his blade.

  Taayin offered a pitiful wave as the thing dissolved.

  Obsidian didn’t bother sticking around, sheathing his dagger and erasing his physical existence temporarily, resuming his form back inside the casino. Now that he’d touched Penelope, he had a direct line on her, so he stuck to the shadows, moving around the space with his eyes on her. He sensed no other demons, but he damn sure wasn’t about to leave her. The presence of the impietans wasn’t a coincidence.

  Demons, with the exception of impietans, weren’t exactly idiots. Sure, on occasion, one would go off the rails, but for the most part, they tended to keep a low profile in the communities they occupied, awaiting their orders. Some even managed to live among humans for decades before anyone suspected their ill intentions.

  However, when they were on a mission, all bets were off. And since the orders to eliminate the amsouelots had come from the king of Hell himself, they were a driving force these days. Ever since Michael had informed them of the leak in Heaven, they’d seen their numbers increasing. Usually wouldn’t be a problem, except for the fact they’d had to make some changes. Rather than an army of roughly fifty, including the Fae, they’d split up into seven groups. Divide and conquer being the only option to getting to the females before the demons could.

  Even then it was iffy as to whether they’d succeed.

  However, for the sake of human existence, it was best they did. A male without his mate was about as destructive as a tornado. About as contained as one, too.

  Imagine what one would do with an eternal existence before him and no chance of happiness.

  BY THE TIME HER SHIFT WAS OVER at four in the morning, Penelope was dead on her feet and grateful to have peeled her toe-killers off. She was almost positive the four-inch heels had been designed by the devil himself. And while they weren’t a requirement in her job as casino floor cocktail waitress, they did have magical powers.

  Not real ones, of course. Those were simply suggestions by Marvel and DC to give them all hope.

  However, the heels had pretty much the same effect as, say, a siren would on the opposite sex. Minus the luring them to their death part, of course. Plenty of men appreciated a nicely dressed woman, and when they were in Vegas, their wallets tended to open wider whenever their eyes did. Therefore, Penelope worked diligently to get the best tips possible.

  Tonight, it had been a success.

  Grabbing the jeans and T-shirt she’d worn to work last night from her locker, Penelope went to the restroom, locked herself in a stall for privacy, and hurried to change. Once she was finished, she went to the sink, washed her hands and pulled her hair up in a ponytail to get it out of her way. When she returned, there were several people lingering in the break room. A couple downing sandwiches at the table, one reading a book, another doing a quick round of calisthenics. Their emotional energy pinged Penelope from all directions, but luckily, no one seemed to be overly maudlin.

  “How’d you do tonight, Pen?”

  She smiled at Jenny, one of the new girls working near her section. “Not too bad for a Monday.”

  Taking a seat in a nearby chair, Penelope pulled on her Converse, tied them.

  “Hey! Did y’all hear what happened to Jessica Brighton?”

  Looking up, Penelope watched as Melissa Miller rushed over, all long legs and bouncing boobs. Her eyes were wild, mouth hanging open, thin brown hair dangling lifelessly around her face.

  “Who’s Jessica Brighton?” Jenny asked, her curiosity rolling over Penelope like a tidal wave.

  “Waitress at OMNIA. Stick-thin blonde? She always wore bright red lipstick?”

  That described nearly half the waitresses on the strip.

  Jenny shook her head, clearly not knowing who Melissa was talking about. Penelope was in the same boat she was.

  “They said she had a heart attack,” Melissa announced in a conspiratorial whisper. “Cleaning crew found her under one of the tables in the club Sunday morning. They think she might’ve sat down to take a breather. Keeled right over.”

  “Heart attack?” Jenny’s hand went to her chest, rubbing absently. “Oh, my God.”

  While she appeared at a loss, Penelope didn’t feel true pain coming from her. More keen interest than despair.

  “It’s horrible,” Melissa continued. “She was only twenty-nine. Her boyfriend just moved here last month. They were buying a house.” Melissa’s voice lowered. “They don’t want us talking about it. Said it wouldn’t be good for the guests to overhear. Anyway. It’s horrible.” She forced a smile. “I’ll see y’all tonight.”

  And there you go. Drop the big death bomb and head off to do your thing. Bad news drive-bys were a trend around here.

  “See you tomorrow night, Jenny,” Penelope offered with a quick wave.

  Jenny’s gaze trailed after Melissa, still stunned by the delivery of bad news. “Yeah, you, too.”

  Penelope didn’t stick around, grateful she hadn’t been overwhelmed by the emotional turmoil. With her purse draped over her shoulder, she strolled toward the parking garage, trying not to think about that poor waitress or the fact she would never buy that house with her boyfriend.

  The sound of muffled voices had her looking up, noticing the sexy mountain of a man she’d encountered earlier. He was standing near the exit doors, engaged in conversation with another man. This one not quite as intimidating with his perfect hair and fancy suit. Unlike the mountain who reminded her of a warrior, this one looked more like a lawyer. Penelope studied them both for a second, curious.

  Evidently, her staring triggered his internal radar, because her mystery man’s head turned in her direction. He then nodded to his friend. The second man shot a quick smile before strolling out into the night.

  Alone, the big guy’s full attention shifted to her. Not sure what she was going to say to him, Penelope considered running in the opposite direction but managed to hold her ground, continuing on her path to the exit.

  “Heading out?” he prompted when she approached.

  “I am,
actually. Heading home.”

  “How about breakfast?”

  His offer caught her completely off guard. Earlier, he hadn’t said more than one word to her. Now he was asking her out on a date?

  “I … uh … I actually don’t date customers.”

  The smirk that formed on his sinful mouth had a tingle of awareness dancing down her spine.

  “Good thing I’m not a customer.”

  Okay, fine. He had her on a technicality. Since she hadn’t brought him a drink, he wasn’t a customer.

  But still.

  He continued to watch her, evidently waiting for her response.

  For whatever reason, Penelope was tempted to take him up on his offer. She’d been in Vegas for six months and had yet to go on a single date. In fact, she’d yet to make any real friends, so she spent most of her time locked up tight in her apartment. Alone.

  Penelope glanced toward the door, thought about the empty apartment she would be going back to, the Lucky Charms awaiting her in her pantry, and considered her options.

  “Only breakfast?” she asked.

  That ridiculously sinful smirk returned. “Anything else is entirely up to you.”

  Feeling the blush warming her cheeks, Penelope stared up at him. She didn’t sense anything malicious, nor had she felt any negative energy when they’d touched earlier.

  “Well, I only share meals with men whose name I know.”

  That sexy smirk returned to his mouth. “Obsidian.”

  “As in volcanic glass?”

  “That’s one definition for it, sure,” he said, the deep rumble of his voice making her insides quiver.

  It was an interesting name, and oddly, it suited him. With a smile, she offered hers in return. “Penelope Calazans.”

  “I know.”

  Frowning, she tried to remember when she would’ve possibly mentioned her name.

  He nodded his head toward her chest. “You had a tag on your dress.”

  Ah. Right. Name tag. The devilish invention that made those who preferred to remain anonymous not.

  Obsidian held out his hand, drawing her attention to it. It wasn’t offered in greeting, more like… Oh, okay. Yes. She was a little slow on the uptake, because it took a second to realize he wanted her to hold it.

  “Just breakfast,” she clarified, wanting him to know she wasn’t about to do anything more.

  Penelope only hoped her body remembered that before the morning was over.

  Though hesitation coiled in her belly, Penelope slid her palm against his. She inhaled sharply when he linked their fingers, hers fitting perfectly within his gigantic hand. There was no disturbing electric shock, nothing to make her recoil, so she breathed a little easier. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d held anyone’s hand. It felt surprisingly intimate.

  Rather than go toward the exit doors, Obsidian reversed, heading back into the casino.

  “I actually can’t hang out here,” she informed him, inhaling his rich, musky scent. “Since I work here, it’s a conflict of interest.”

  “We’re not staying down here.”

  “Then where are we going?”

  “I’ve got a room.”

  She pulled up short, stared up into his face. “You realize I’m a waitress, not a…” Hooker. Penelope shook her head. “I’m not going to your room with you.”

  She wasn’t one of those chicks in the horror flicks who forged headlong into danger. In fact, she prided herself on being responsible, making sound, logical decisions.

  “You’re safe with me, Penelope.” His tone was thick with reassurance.

  “So you say.”

  He seemed surprised, as though he wasn’t used to being rebuked by a woman.

  “It’s a rooftop villa,” he explained, regarding her closely from behind those dark lenses. “Complete with patio and butler. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll invite him to join us.”

  She actually laughed at the notion. “Rooftop villa, huh?”

  He nodded.

  The villas—those with their own exterior patios—had a price tag in the tens of thousands per night. Penelope had a strange desire to check it out for herself, if for no other reason than to say she had.

  Or that was the excuse she was going with, anyway.

  “Okay, but I get to grill the butler.”

  He grinned, his warm hand giving hers a light, reassuring squeeze. “How long have you been in Vegas?”

  “Six months,” she admitted as they walked alongside one another. “Traded angels for sin in an attempt to chase down my brother.”

  He peered down at her. “Angels?”

  “Los Angeles?” Penelope grinned.

  He chuckled softly, a sound that made her entire body quiver.

  They made it to the private elevator, where Obsidian didn’t even need to produce identification. Evidently, he’d already made quite the impression on the hotel staff, because they knew him by name.

  Obsidian nodded toward the man guarding the elevator, then motioned for Penelope to step inside before him.

  As the doors closed, sealing them inside, she pulled out her cell phone and shot a quick text to Winnie, her best friend back in LA, letting her know where she was and who she was with. Should something ominous happen, at least Winnie would know where to find her body.

  After tucking her phone back in her purse, Penelope watched Obsidian’s reflection in the mirrored doors. His energy hadn’t changed at all. Of course, she was making that up since she still couldn’t detect his emotions. But for her sanity, she had to believe there was no deceit, no disdain.

  Not the norm for Sin City. Not that she’d seen, anyway. In the six months she’d been in this city, she’d learned most people had an agenda. Especially those who were visiting. Whether it be to sow their wild oats or attempt to get something for nothing, it was all a game.

  “What brings you to Las Vegas?” she asked as the elevator continued its rapid ascent.

  “Business.”

  Penelope turned to face him, let her gaze rake over him from head to toe. “What sort of business?”

  “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Ah. So you’re what? A bounty hunter?” She’d meant it as a joke, but the instant the words were out, she had to wonder.

  “No.”

  She glanced at the mirrored doors as the elevator began to slow, suddenly curious as to how many chicks he’d taken to his hotel room before.

  “I assure you, I’ve never taken a chick to a hotel room.”

  “Never?”

  What was he? A choirboy?

  Wait.

  Her eyes widened as she peered over at him. She hadn’t voiced the question aloud. So how had he answered it?

  Obsidian supplied a seductive smile, took her hand once more, then led her out of the elevator, down the carpeted hall toward the plush accommodations offered to those with tremendous wealth.

  He opened the door to the villa, allowed her to precede him. She stopped just inside the opulent space. While she knew this hotel catered to the rich and the famous, she’d never seen anything quite like it before.

  “Wow. It’s … big.”

  Another smirk was all Obsidian offered as he let the door shut behind him.

  He didn’t appear at all fazed by the luxurious surroundings, as though they were inconsequential. On some level, Penelope understood. After all, she’d grown up with an affluent family. Her mother was a lawyer, or had been before she ran off with a man-child, her father having built his own tech company from the ground up. She and her brother were not strangers to wealth and privilege, having gone to the best schools money could buy, from grade school through college.

  “Wine?” Obsidian offered.

  “Sure.”

  As though summoned, a man appeared. Blond hair, aqua-blue eyes, a smooth, chiseled jaw. He was tall, just over six feet, Penelope would guess, but seemed small in comparison to Obsidian. His black suit was a bit overpriced for a uniform,
but maybe that was a requirement when dealing with the upper class.

  “Now’s your chance,” Obsidian stated, nodding toward the man.

  Confused, Penelope stared up at him.

  “To grill the butler.”

  Oh, right.

  Her face heated from embarrassment. “I’ll hold off for now. Maybe later.”

  Obsidian smiled, clearly amused.

  She watched as the man poured two glasses of wine, passing them over in a manner that said he had vast experience with waiting on those who stayed here. Like Obsidian, she couldn’t detect his emotions, and she wondered whether that was something they mastered because of their clientele. Being unobtrusive to the guests was likely a positive.

  Still holding her hand, Obsidian led her out onto the patio.

  Penelope instantly knew what all the fuss was about. The interior, while spectacular, didn’t hold a candle to this. The enormous space was softly lit from the lights in the whirlpool and the gas fire pit, but it was the Vegas strip that drew the eye.

  “It’s beautiful. Especially at night,” she mused, stepping up to the railing beside the handsome man.

  “I’d have to agree,” he said softly, his gaze focused entirely on her.

  Penelope felt the blush warm her cheeks, so she kept her attention on the lights.

  The sound of dishes had her turning. The butler was placing two covered plates on the table, along with a variety of accoutrements.

  She smiled up at Obsidian. “You were serious about breakfast.”

  He grinned. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  Though she wasn’t sure it was for food.

  Chapter Three

  THOUGH HIS INTENTIONS HAD BEEN PURE WHEN he’d made the offer of breakfast, now that Obsidian had Penelope alone, it took everything in him to remember she had no clue who he was or that the Fates had destined them to be together.

  While he’d been on a path that would allow their lives to intertwine, Penelope would believe tonight was a chance encounter, a happy accident, perhaps. Obsidian didn’t want to spoil the morning, though he was ready to move on with the rest of his life with her at his side. Since human traditions dictated he wine and dine her, get to know her on a deeper level, he figured that was the least he could do, even if it was trivial considering they would be together for eternity.