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Authors: Cynthia Eden

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BOOK: Angel of Darkness
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He wanted her mouth on him as her hands squeezed his flesh. Because her touch ...
burning hell
... nothing had ever been so good. The pressure was just right, her fingers tight and sure, and now, moving faster,
faster
.
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice stronger, and she pushed him back so that his shoulders hit the tile. “You won’t hurt me.” Her lips curved in a wan smile. “I’m stronger than I look.”
So am I.
He was strong, but still, with her, close to breaking.
His breath came harder and his heart thudded against his chest. Her tongue licked his throat. A hot lick that had his need spiking.
Then she began to slip down his body. Steam rose off her, and her lips feathered down his chest. Down his abdomen.
His muscles locked and when her lips closed over his cock ...
The pleasure erupted inside of him. One lick of her tongue, just one, and Keenan lost control. Lost everything.
His vision dimmed to red. A distant roar filled his ears. The pleasure mixed with the fire in his body, burning, sweeping away his past, sweeping him into the maelstrom of need and hunger and ...
Yes.
Pleasure.
So much pleasure.
She licked him again. Trailed her fingers over his cock and looked up at him.
He knew then he wouldn’t get enough. That lash of wild pleasure—it had only been the beginning and he needed,
had
to get more.
Everything.
No wonder humans lied and killed for sex.
No wonder
.
He caught her under her arms, lifted her up high, and barely felt her weight.
“Keenan, we should—”
He kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep and loving the soft moan that trembled in her throat.
His arms moved to cradle her, and, keeping his mouth crushed to hers, he carried her from the bathroom.
The heat that had seemed to burn his body from the inside out had channeled, focused now—and the focus was on her.
Easing her down carefully, he put her on the bed. His gaze swept her body, noting every curve, every small freckle, every inch of perfect skin.
Her legs shifted on the bed, parting, and he swallowed. “I want ...”
Her right hand eased down her stomach, but paused over the light covering of hair that shielded her sex from his view.
The roar was back, filling his ears. No, not a roar this time. His heartbeat. Pounding so fast.
“I want you,” Nicole said, and with that,
nothing
would have kept him from her.
He leaned over her and his right knee pushed down on the sagging mattress. He didn’t touch her, was almost afraid to. After having her haunt his dreams—
just like this
—he didn’t want to risk reaching out and having her vanish.
But this wasn’t a dream. Or a nightmare. This was real. He could just glimpse the edge of her fangs and her eyes were still pitch-black.
Not quite like his fantasies.
But she was still Nicole.
His fingers trailed down her arm. He’d always loved her skin. He bent and his breath blew lightly over her nipple.
She arched toward him. “
Keenan!
”
That was how a woman should say his name. With need and lust and hunger.
Not fear.
His tongue snaked out and licked her nipple. Sampled it and he found that he loved the taste. His mouth opened wider and he closed his lips over her flesh. Sucking. Tasting.
More.
His teeth scored her flesh. Perhaps there was a reason why vamps liked to bite so much. The biting was ... pleasurable.
Her legs shifted as her breath came faster. He liked that.
His fingers found her other breast and lightly caressed the nipple. But then he had to taste it, too. Her breasts were sweet, the tips like ripe strawberries—a new temptation he’d discovered.
The world was meant to tempt.
The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils.
She wants me.
This wasn’t a game. No trick. Nicole wanted him just as much as he wanted her. His head lifted. He stared into her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” she told him, her voice pure sin, “I won’t bite you ... I’m in control.”
He wasn’t. And as for biting, “I will.” Then he began to lick his way down her stomach as he explored every inch of her flesh. He couldn’t touch her enough. Couldn’t taste her enough. And, yes, he had to bite. Had to nip the flesh because he liked the way she gasped his name when she felt the edge of his teeth. Not enough pressure to hurt, not for her, just enough to make the need mount.
He pushed her legs apart more and settled between them. His heart was heavy in his chest, his muscles tense and his flesh was so aroused and swollen he felt like he’d explode at any minute.
His fingers shook when he touched her. She gasped, and he looked up, his gaze shooting to her face. But no pain was there, only pleasure.
He touched her again, letting his finger stroke her flesh, learning the hidden curves, and finding the spots that made her moan and arch.
He leaned in even closer because there was more he needed to know.
How does she taste?
“Keenan.” Her nails dug into shoulders. “I need ...”
“I need to taste you.” He’d never thought to have her like this. Fantasies were one thing, reality another. But now that he had her, spread beneath him, open, ready, he wasn’t going to back away.
One taste.
Would one be enough?
His lips skimmed over her sex. His tongue licked.
Not even close to enough.
A hungry growl burst from his lips as his hands clamped down tighter on her hips. He opened her more, tasting, licking, savoring every inch of her hot core.
Her moans were in his ears, her claws digging into his shoulders, and her hips pushing closer to him.
He heard her call his name. He heard the broken rasp of her breaths, but he wasn’t done.
Her body tensed, and he looked up just in time to see the blind pleasure flow across her face—and he pressed his mouth harder to her and savored the taste of her release as she came.
Then he slowly climbed back up her body. Her breath heaved, and her hands reached for him. He kissed her. Keenan drove his tongue into her mouth and let that wild hunger build and build.
He wanted to plunge into her body. To take and take and let the release rip through him.
Forbidden.
Like he gave a damn about the rules anymore. Those rules were for angels, and he didn’t have a chance of ever flying again, not with his wings burned off.
Take.
He couldn’t fly, but he could have her. He
would
have her.
Then the scent reached him. The light, almost sweet scent of flowers in the air.
The scent that always came when an angel was near.
He tore his mouth from hers and spun around. His hand automatically went to the thin sheet, and he yanked it over her body. “Get out of here!” He thundered.
“What?” Nicole demanded. “After what we just—you want me to
leave?
”
He grabbed her wrist and chained her to him. “Not you.” His gaze swept the room. His nose followed that scent. His eyes narrowed as he focused his stare on the far corner. “You into watching now?” A dark taunt directed at the one waiting.
“Uh, Keenan?” Worry had entered Nicole’s voice. “No one else is here.”
“He’s here.” Keenan rose from the bed and didn’t bother to cover his body. Angels weren’t supposed to care about nudity. And he didn’t care about his—just hers. “Unless he’s here to kill me, then he needs to drag his winged ass out of here.”
He felt the wind whisper against his face. Angel power. “Can’t you smell him?” He asked her because a vamp’s enhanced senses should at least be able to pick up that light scent. Most humans—those who stopped to pay attention—caught the telltale fragrance.
The sheets rustled. “I ...
yes.
”
Keenan glanced back at her.
Her gaze was wide, her lips open. “I know that smell. In the alley, when that vampire attacked me ...” She jumped from the bed and clutched the sheet tightly to her. “I smelled it then.” Now it was her turn to sweep the room with her gaze. “There was so much blood, I couldn’t figure out why I just ... smelled flowers.”
Because an angel had been near.
“Is he the one who was there?” The worry was gone from her voice. Only fury remained. “This jerk in here—is he the one who stood there and watched while that vamp attacked me?”
Another whisper of wind blew on his face. Then the floral scent began to fade as the angel vanished. What had been the purpose of that visit?
A threat?
He didn’t take so well to those angelic threats anymore.
“He’s leaving,” Nicole whispered. She grabbed Keenan’s arm. “I can tell. The scent is almost gone.” She turned and her gaze tracked all around the room. “Why can’t I see him?”
“Because you’re not dead.” He exhaled slowly. Time for more truth. “You can only see an angel when you’re dying—in those last few seconds before death.”
Her lips curved down. “Haven’t you heard? I
am
dead.”
“No, you’re
un
dead. There’s a difference.” She’d died only for a few seconds. Not long enough for her soul to leave. Just long enough for her body to change when the virus got inside her.
That’s what vampirism really was. A virus. One that—if it wasn’t monitored—could be passed along until the whole human race died out. Died out—or transformed.
He rolled his shoulders and forced himself to meet her eyes. “He’s gone.”
“He?” Her brows rose. “Could you see him?” She pressed.
No lies
. “I saw enough.”
“Was he the one that was there that night?” Her delicate jaw locked. “Was he the bastard that just stood there while the vamp tried to kill me?”
“No.” One of the things about angels—fallen or those still in grace—they could never lie. He exhaled. “That bastard. . . well, that would have been me.”
C
HAPTER
S
IX
 
“W
hat?” Her voice had gone flat and cold, just like her eyes.
And her teeth were getting longer and sharper. When the fangs came out, trouble was calling.
But it was time to reveal this to her. After what he’d done tonight, she deserved to know. “I was the angel there that night. I was the one you sensed.”
“
You?
” Her knuckles whitened around the sheet. “You saw what he did—”
His muscles locked at the memory. “I saw everything.”
“And you just stood there?” Disbelief. Disgust.
His spine straightened. He’d expected this.
“You stood there,” she repeated, “and let him hurt me? He clawed me, he bit me, hell, I even thought he was going to rape me—”
Keenan spun away from her. “He didn’t.”
I didn’t let him. I broke the rules. Took him when I should have taken you.
“Wait. I get it now.”
Keenan glanced over his shoulder. “I doubt it.”
Wrong thing to say.
She lunged forward. The sheet dropped. “You were my
guardian.
My guardian angel, right? So your job was to watch me.”
No. He’d never been a guardian angel, and he shouldn’t have watched her so much. Since he couldn’t lie, he just didn’t speak.
“I thought guardian angels were supposed to keep their charges safe.”
They were. Except when he was around. Then the guardians were given other charges. No one could stop death.
He ran a hand over his face.
I did.
Hadn’t he? Or had that angel been there tonight for a different reason? To finish the job?
No.
Keenan grabbed his jeans. Jerked them on. Shoved into his shoes.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I have to find someone.”
“No, you’re not leaving right now.” She stood in front of him. Naked. Furious. So sexy. The bed was just steps away. He’d been so close to the paradise of her body, but now he’d lost that chance.
Thanks, Az, you asshole.
The human curses and insults were coming much easier to him now.
“You were there.” It was too easy to read the disgust on her face as she grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you
help me
?” Her claws bit into his skin, drawing blood.
He stared back at her and barely felt the pain. “You were supposed to die that night.”
Her eyelids flickered.
“I
wasn’t
supposed to help you. No one was.” Cold, hard truth.
Her body shuddered.
He had to get out of there. Get away from her. Because he wanted to pull her close. Keenan wanted to hold her and protect her.
But the truth, the real truth ... he’d been the biggest threat to her all along. He was the darkness that had come to take her away.
Her worst moment—he’d been there.
Watching.
All that rage and despair she had was directed right at him.
A fist seemed to shove into his chest. “I didn’t ... want to hurt you.” Another painful truth.
“You said I was a damn key.” Her lower lip trembled. “A key to what?”
His lashes lowered.
“
Eyes up, angel.
”
His gaze snapped up.
“What kind of key am I? Why were you guarding me? Why’s another angel spying on me now?”
“I don’t know why he’s here.” But he’d find out. “And you’re the key because ...”
Tell her.
“The night you changed, I fell.”
She blinked.
He pulled away from her and in a flash, he was at the door. Angels—even the Fallen—could always move fast.
“Keenan!”
“Stay here.” He didn’t look back. “You’re weak now.” Because the sun was rising.
“Oh, don’t throw that up at me! I can’t control the freaking sunlight!”
“Rest,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back.” That was a promise.
“No, you’re not leaving me! If you’re going after that angel, I’m coming, too.”
The wood was chipping off the old door. His gaze bored into that wood. “If he touches you, you’re dead.” Simple truth—an angel of death killed with a touch. “A vamp can’t even begin to compete with his power.” He opened the door and left her.
Elijah knew that dawn was coming. Sweat trickled down his back as he stared at the women easing out of the bar, their bodies held tightly by the men with them.
His heart raced too fast, his hands shook almost constantly, and a fist twisted his guts.
Withdrawal.
He knew all the fucking signs. If he didn’t get the drugs again soon, he’d rip apart. No, he’d rip apart any fool who got in his path.
He’d been so sure Sam would hook him up. So fucking sure.
He tasted ash in his mouth. No matter what he drank or ate, ash was all he got.
And the whispers were calling to him. Taunting.
He’d first heard those whispers when he was fourteen. Those mocking whispers told him that the humans could see right through his glamour, that they
knew
what he was.
He needed to stop the humans from seeing.
Had to stop them.
Like he’d stopped the others. So many others before ...
No.
Elijah spun away from the crowd. He just needed his drugs. Once he had those, he’d be in control. He’d pick the prey he wanted—screw the voices. They couldn’t tell him who needed to die.
He needed drugs. The drugs shut up the fucking voices.
Drugs.
He just had to find the right dealer. Someone willing to trade with a demon.
 
Nicole didn’t stay in the hotel room—she wasn’t some well-trained dog to do what she was told.
She grabbed the gun she’d taken from that feeding room and ran outside. It only took her a few seconds to get the weapon, but by the time she made it outside, Nicole discovered Keenan hadn’t left so much as a whisper of scent behind.
Damn him.
He’d seen.
Everything. Her worst nightmare. Her pain and humiliation. Her terror.
He’d seen ... and he hadn’t helped her.
Damn the bastard.
He’d gone—fine. He’d better stay gone. She didn’t
want
to see him again. Because if she did, she’d kill him herself.
He’d been there
... and, moments before, he’d almost fucked her.
The rage built as the hours passed. She found a small shop. Bought some new clothes and ditched his shirt because she was tired of his scent clinging to her. Her new jeans were tight, her T-shirt hugged her body, and the boots made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could kick some ass. Angel ass.
She walked onto the street and felt the heat of the sun on her skin. Her body was tired, her moves sluggish. She’d get cover—any place but that cheap motel room—and crash.
Her fury had given her the strength to stay out in the daylight, but her emotions were churning now, and they were draining her energy.
Betrayal.
Yes, that’s what stabbed her right in the heart. She’d been so weak that long-ago night. If he’d just reached out and helped her ...
“I’d still be alive,” she whispered.
“No, Nicole, you wouldn’t be ... that would have been against the rules.”
She spun at the hard, male voice.
A man stood there, his dark hair loose around his shoulders. He wore dark sunglasses, glasses that cast her reflection right back at her. Broad shoulders stretched the black T-shirt he wore. His back was pressed against the brick wall on the side of the building and a faint smile curved his lips.
“Stopping you from going into that alley, saving you ... those weren’t options for our boy,” he said as his grin stretched.
Our boy.
Suddenly, the day wasn’t quite as warm. She stepped forward, just a small step, aware of the few humans strolling down the street.
No help there.
“Who are you?”
One black brow rose. His thumbs were hooked in the loops of his jeans. “I’m a friend of Keenan’s.”
“An angel?” She’d been raised her whole life to believe in angels. She just hadn’t expected angels to look like Keenan ... or like this guy.
But I believe.
It was vamps and the other monsters she hadn’t believed in. That disbelief had come back to bite her in the ass.
He laughed softly at her question, and the sound sent a shiver over her. “I’m no more an angel than Keenan is.”
But Keenan was ...
“Once an angel falls, he becomes something very, very different.” He pulled off his sunglasses. His eyes were the same bright blue as Keenan’s. His blue gaze trekked to the left, then to the right as it swept past the pedestrians. “Why don’t you come closer,” he invited, “so we can ... talk ... without worrying that the humans will overhear.”
She didn’t move. The gun was tucked in the waistband of her jeans, hidden beneath her shirt. But what would the silver bullets do against someone like him?
Probably not much.
“I’m fine right here.”
His eyes slit. “Are you?”
Nicole swallowed. “What do you want?”
He took a step toward her. She tensed.
“Where is Keenan?” He asked.
She braced her legs apart. “You’re not really his friend, are you?” Her right hand began to edge toward the gun. So what if the humans saw? She wasn’t dying on this street.
He didn’t blink. “No, I’m not.”
Great.
“He left you all alone.” His lips—sensual but cruel, just like the rest of him—pulled down. “Didn’t expect that. I thought you mattered more.”
“Why would I matter to him?”
I begged for help.
Help Keenan hadn’t given her. “We barely know each other.” Fury thickened her voice.
He took another slow, gliding step toward her. She was reminded of a snake slithering up on his prey. “Oh, you might not know him well,” he said, “but Keenan knows you.”
Then he was in front of her. Mere inches away. He’d moved in a blink—as fast as Keenan had at the motel.
Her hand flew for the gun.
He caught her wrist. Held tight. “I can’t let you do that.” His head came close, and his lips feathered against her ear as he spoke. To everyone else on the street, it would look like they were lovers whispering secrets and promises. “Digging those bullets out,” he told her as his breath stroked over her, “can be a real bitch.”
She’d lost feeling in the tips of her fingers. He wasn’t hurting her—there was just no feeling. “
Who are you?
”
His left hand rose and brushed back the hair from her cheek. “You can call me Sam.”
That told her nothing.
He eased back and gazed down at her. “He should have been with you.” There actually seemed to be some sadness in his voice. “I thought he was going to protect you.”
“Why would he?” She fired, refusing to cower. For all she knew, this guy was a low-level demon, just bullshitting his way around and trying to screw with her head. “He has no link to me.” Even though she could still feel his hands on her body. Still taste him.
Bastard.
“We’re not—”
BOOK: Angel of Darkness
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