by Cynthia Eden
Killing would be easy for him. Sometimes, she worried it might become too easy for her. “I-I don’t know what to do. I’ve been hiding, and I thought I was safe, but they found me.”
“They?” His right hand still cradled her thigh and seemed to scorch her flesh.
“His friends. They know what I did, and they aren’t the kind of men you can just walk away from.” She let fear seep into her voice. The better to sound weak. Men liked it when women were needy, right? Help me. “They’re dangerous, Sam, and they’ve got a lot of power.”
His gaze searched hers. Then his mouth dipped close to hers. Seline stopped breathing. He was going to kiss her and her hormones would go wild. Control. She had to stay in—
He didn’t kiss her. He smiled. And dammit, she’d actually been pressing up on her toes to get closer to him.
Heat stained her cheeks. I don’t blush. But she was—or rather, she’d started blushing since she met Sam. He made her too uncomfortable.
“What makes you think I’m the kind of man who offers protection?”
She didn’t think he’d give her protection. She wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t the protecting kind.
He was the killing kind.
She wet her lips and felt the tension mount in his body. “I know what you are.” Half-truth. She knew what he wasn’t. She was still working on the rest. Out of a thousand possibilities, she’d narrowed down the choices to a top five list—and nothing on that list was good.
“And what’s that?”
Now this was the dangerous part. If she’d calculated wrong, he could attack her. Good thing she wasn’t very easy to kill. “You’re not human.” This she knew with absolute certainty. Demons didn’t play guard bitch to humans. The food chain didn’t work that way.
No change of expression crossed his face. But his head came closer to hers and his lips—why would that cruel edge be sexy?—pressed against her mouth. She expected the kiss to be hard and rough. What else? But when his mouth took hers, it was just . . . a taste.
His tongue licked her lips and stroked inside her mouth. Slow. Easy. As if he were sampling her.
Her tongue slipped to meet his. To taste. To want. Sam.
When he pulled back, she had to fight to keep her hands off him. Or rather, she had to fight not to yank the guy back and take a lot more from him. Dangerous.
His gaze studied her a moment, and she barely dared to breathe. “I’m not human,” he finally agreed, his voice a deep rumble. “But neither are you, sweetheart. Neither are you.”
True enough. Now this was the dicey part. Time for some half-truth, half-lies. “You know I’m a demon.” Yeah, and good for her, she could admit that truth without flinching in shame anymore.
“Like to like,” he murmured. “That’s the way, right?”
Right. In the Other world, paranormals could recognize their own kind. Maybe it was Mother Nature’s way of making sure the Other didn’t vanish into the mist. If you recognized your own kind, it sure made mating within the same subset easier. Demons could see right through the magic glamour that shielded their kind from human attention. The easiest tip-off that you were dealing with a fellow demon? Go for the eyes.
A demon’s real eyes were pitch-black. The lens, the sclera—everything was black. But thanks to the glamour that even the least powerful of demons could manage, humans never saw that telling stare. Well, not unless the demons wanted them to see. In that case . . . good-bye, human. Because when you saw that darkness, death was coming.
Seline cloaked her black stare with glamour, twenty-four/ seven. For her, it was as natural as breathing. When humans looked into her eyes, they saw a warm brown gaze, not that chilling black.
But Sam . . . his eyes were different. She’d caught the slip of his eye color once. Just once—when Temptation had burst into flames, and she’d been trapped in the fire. His bright blue stare had faded to black then. She’d almost missed that change because of the freaking fire all around her.
One slip had shown her his true nature. But the problem was that she should have always been able to see the black of his eyes. He shouldn’t have been able to maintain a shield against her.
Sam wasn’t your average demon. Actually, she wasn’t even convinced he was a demon because there was something else rather unusual about him. When she looked at him hard enough, long enough, Seline could see the dark, shadowy image of . . . wings on his back.
Demons didn’t have wings.
Sure, she’d heard of some really, really old demons who had tails and one guy with cloven feet, but wings? Not so much a demon thing.
I know what you are. So that was lie number one for her. When it came to Sam, she didn’t know. Not that knowing truly mattered.
“So the people after you . . .” He dropped his hold and stepped back. Seline didn’t like that calculating stare he swept over her. “Are they demons?”
“No. They’re humans.”
He grunted. “Then you should have no problem taking them out.” Cold and flat and exactly what she’d expected.
“I’m low level,” she admitted, and lowered her eyes because most demons could be ashamed to admit this. I’m not most. “Barely a four on the power scale.” That wicked demon power scale that had screwed up most of her life. Demon power ranked from a one, barely more than a human in terms of psychic power, to a ten. A ten would be the powerhouse capable of leveling a city block.
She was not such a bad-ass. If only. Her strengths lay in other areas.
Her hands balled into fists. “They’ll take me out. I’ve been running from them for nearly a year, but they keep finding me. They want payback, and they won’t stop until they get it.”
He sighed. “Seline . . .”
He spoke her name the way a man would say it in bed. Seductive and—
“What in the hell,” he continued in that same seductive tone that had her nearly aching, “makes you think I give a damn?”
She blinked. “But . . . but I helped you!” So not the way I’d imagined this going down.
He shook his head. “I didn’t need your help with the shifter. No coyote will ever be able to take me down.”
“If you don’t help me, they’ll kill me.” Had he missed that part? She’d thought she emphasized it dramatically well. Maybe she should think about shedding a tear or two.
“I’m not here to save the world,” he told her, and then he reached for her again. Wait—the jerk was moving her out of his way, not trying to embrace her. Then he yanked open the door and told her, “Sweetheart, I’m just here to watch it burn.”
And Sam left her there, with her mouth open. The jerk actually left her.
Shit. Time for plan B—and plan B was gonna hurt.
She watched Sam disappear into the crowd. His goons closed back around him, and he whispered to them. Her eyes slit. Oh, she’d make him pay. Was he really so heartless that he wouldn’t help a freaking damsel in distress? Hadn’t she looked distressed enough to him? Her eyes were actually watering now—she was sure he’d seen that bit. And what about that breathy moan she’d given when he kissed her? That moan had only been half-faked!
Fine. Seline took a deep breath. One, then another, and she let the tears build up. She might have been a low-level demon, but she was also a semi-talented actress. In order to fit in with the humans, she’d had to be.
Her shoulders shook as she pushed her way through the crowd. Seline made sure to rush past Sam and his demons as she sobbed, the better to lay the groundwork for her next plan.
Her hand slammed against the club’s back door, and she burst outside. The hot air hit her like a fist as she hurried forward. She lifted her hand and signaled for the man she knew would be waiting.
She’d tried to do this the easy way, but Sam hadn’t cooperated. Pity. A real crying shame.
“You’re gonna have to use the knife,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. Sam might not even come out after her. He sure didn’t seem to be racing to her rescue. But m
aybe when she started screaming, he’d come play white knight.
The man in the black ski mask nodded once.
Seline exhaled. So be it.
She wasn’t just going to walk away from Sam. She had a job to do, and she always got the job done. Even if she had to bleed to earn her pay.
And she would be bleeding because that knife was about to slice her . . .
The first cut of the blade was always the worst.
Sam stared at the closed exit door. “Seline has a problem,” he said to the demons—Marcus and Cole—beside him. Why do I care? I shouldn’t give a damn. “Check it out. If it’s legit, then make sure her problem is eliminated.”
Cole nodded. “Someone’s bothering her?” Cole’s voice held a tight edge. The demon never liked it when someone bothered the women at Sunrise. Definitely a guy with a soft spot for the ladies, even the dangerous ones.
“Seems she’s got a past that won’t stay dead.” Perhaps he would have talked more with Seline, offered her protection in exchange for a few moments in the dark, but he had another agenda then.
His own past wasn’t staying dead. His brother was back, and if Sam had his way, he’d be putting the bastard into the ground very, very soon.
A war is coming. Sam could feel the storm clouds gathering.
As delectable as Seline was, he didn’t have time for distractions. Azrael had finally gotten his lily-white ass kicked out of heaven, and it was time for a showdown.
Or Armageddon. Whatever came first. Sam didn’t have a preference.
Too many angels are falling. The demons are getting restless. A power play is coming.
And, of course, he was getting caught right in the middle of hell.
“Find out who’s bothering her,” he ordered because he hadn’t asked specifics from her. If he’d found out anymore—hell, he would have killed the bastards himself, and that just couldn’t happen. He had an angel’s ass to kick first. Pleasure kills would have to wait for later. “Make sure she doesn’t have to worry again.”
Then his debt would be paid because he did owe Seline. No one had ever tried to save him before. Mostly because he didn’t need saving. But she’d tried, in her way.
So despite his words, he’d help her and maybe one day when the blood washed away, he’d look her up and let sexy Seline thank him properly.
Cole nodded and eased back into the crowd. The demon was probably off to talk to some of the other waitresses so he could get a fix on Seline and her trouble.
Sam waved off Marcus and headed for the exit. He’d already given Marcus orders earlier. If the guy caught so much as a whisper about Azrael, Sam would know.
He shoved open the club’s back door and inhaled the lingering scent of jasmine in the air. Seline’s scent. His cock tightened as he remembered the soft silk of her lips beneath his. She hadn’t tasted like innocence. No, Seline, the woman who’d stripped and danced on his stage at Temptation, revealing and then instantly concealing her body, was no innocent.
She’d tasted like sin, and sin sure was an aphrodisiac to him. “Help me!”
The cry had his head whipping to the left, and Sam saw the flash of Seline’s long legs as she ran down the alley. Seline wasn’t alone. A man in a black ski mask was hauling ass after her, and the bastard had a knife.
The knife lifted and the glinting blade plunged toward Seline’s back.
No.
Sam moved in an instant, using the preternatural speed of his kind. He rushed across the pavement, and his body slammed into Seline’s. The knife drove into his shoulder even as he and Seline tumbled onto the ground.
Kill. Destroy.
Sam shoved up and barely felt the pain from his wound. He turned for the attacker, ready to rip the man’s soul right out of his body.
“Sam!” Seline grabbed him and held tight. Footsteps thudded as the attacker raced away, but Sam’s eyes were on Seline. She stared up at him. Her brown eyes swam with tears. “How did you . . . you’re bleeding!”
Blood ran down his arm in deep rivulets. The jackass had left the knife in Sam’s shoulder.
The guy was also gone. The squeal of tires grated in Sam’s ears. Fuck. Clenching his teeth, Sam reached up and yanked the knife out of his flesh. The blade had sunk straight into the bone.
You’ll pay for that.
Blood spattered around him as he yanked at the knife, and Seline yelled, “No, don’t, you’ll make it worse!”
Doubtful. She didn’t understand who she was dealing with. “The wound will heal.” In a few moments, the blood flow would stop, and the skin would mend on its own.
He tossed the knife to the ground and glanced down at her. Seline’s thick blond hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her face was pale, too pale, and fear filled her dark eyes.
Definitely pay.
He brushed her hair back, careful not to get any blood on her.
“I thought . . .” She wet her lips with a quick swipe of her pink tongue and whispered, “I thought you didn’t care.”
You don’t want to make me care.
Seline wasn’t a classically beautiful woman. Not porcelain perfect.
But she was sexy. Damn sexy. She had full, pouting lips and her deep, dark bedroom eyes were surrounded by thick lashes. A sweet little mole rested near the corner of her mouth—he wanted to lick that spot. Her cheeks were high and her chin a little sharp, giving her a slightly exotic look.
And the woman’s body . . . when he’d seen her on the stage at Temptation, he hadn’t been able to look away. Her legs stretched for miles and her breasts were high, round, and perfect. The woman’s body was built for sin, and she could probably make a man beg.
If he were the begging type.
Sam never had been.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and hoisted Seline to her feet.
“No, your arm—”
He closed his fingers around her shoulders. “I want a name, Seline.”
She blinked those sexy eyes at him.
“Tell me who that bastard was, and he’s dead.” Simple fact. The jerkoff had attacked her and left a knife in Sam’s flesh. The guy wouldn’t be among the breathing for long. Sam would make sure of that fact. He’d also make sure the man’s final moments hurt. The days of Death being kind were long gone. Only cruelty remained.
“I-I don’t know, I didn’t see his face—”
Right. He’d noticed the mask. Sam sucked in a deep breath. “You didn’t have to see his face. You knew someone was coming for you. And you know who sent the guy.”
She shivered and hunched her shoulders. She stood tall, probably an inch or two under six feet, but despite her curves, her bones had a delicate feel. “I just want it to end.”
“It will,” he promised. Death was his business, and his business was booming.
She looked at him from beneath the thick veil of her lashes. “You said you wouldn’t help me.” Her breath hitched a bit, and his hands tightened on her.
“I lied.” Like it had been the first time.
She swallowed, and her lips began to curl.
“The name. ”
Seline threw her arms around him and held on tight. Her body shook against his, and her breasts crushed into his chest.
The scent of jasmine rose over the stench in the alley and filled his nose.
“Thank you.” She whispered the words against his neck. Her lips brushed over his skin, and Sam was pretty sure he felt the quick lick of her tongue against him. His body stiffened with sensual tension. When she’d moved, his hand had shifted automatically. His palms now rested on the curve of her ass. What a sweet ass it was.
But now wasn’t the time for sex. It was killing time, and he could kill a man as easily as he could caress a lover.
After all, death only needed one touch.
“Please, Sam, get me out of here.” Fear had her voice shaking. “I’ll tell you everything.” She eased back and tilted her head up as she gazed at him. “Just take me to your place. Get me out of
here.”
Not what he wanted. The thirst for blood and vengeance was too strong then, but he didn’t know what kind of attack to expect. The sooner he got her secured, the sooner he’d have his fun. Sam nodded and felt the tightening in his shoulder. The wound was already closing. The attacker would have to do much better next time. He wasn’t easy prey.
“Come on.” Sam kept her hand in his as he pulled her to the edge of the alley. He was careful to keep his body positioned in front of hers. If another attack came, he’d be ready.
“How did you move so fast?” Her quiet question whispered out after a pause. “You were so far away . . .”
Speed was only one of his many gifts. “I’m not your average demon.” He opened the door of his black Jag and waited for her to crawl inside.
“No,” her soft voice answered him, “you’re not.”
Sam slammed the door as his gaze swept the street. Down the road and to the left, a black van waited in the shadows.
He stared at that van; then he grinned.
Come and get me, bastards. He almost crooked his finger in invitation.
Because he wasn’t a dumbass demon, and he could smell a fucking setup a mile away. Even when the setup was wrapped in the scent of jasmine and wore a pretty smile.
Not that easy to get to me.
He climbed in the car and gunned the engine.
Time for the real games to begin.
With a flick of his fingers, he locked the door and sealed Seline inside with him.
“He took the bait,” Alex Graham said as he yanked the ski mask off his face. “The blind fool fell for her just like all the others have done.”
So it would seem.
Rogziel eased back in the seat and watched the Jag’s red taillights disappear around the corner. The growl of the engine echoed down the street. He had waited so long for this moment, and now, finally, Sammael’s punishment was at hand.
It only seemed fitting that a demon would be the one to send the Fallen to hell.
Sammael had always had a weakness for women and for sin. By the time Seline was done with him, there’d be nothing left of his old friend.
