Authors: Cynthia Eden

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal

Angel of Darkness (2 page)

BOOK: Angel of Darkness

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Her throat was a mess, ripped flesh, blood—so much blood. Hers. The vamp’s. Nicole grabbed another chunk of glass and swung again with a slice to the vampire’s neck.

Fighting.

She was fighting desperately for every second of life that she had left. And he was supposed to just stop her? Supposed to take her away when she struggled so hard to live?

You’ve done it before. Do it again.

So many humans. So little life. So much death.

“Bitch! I’ll cut you open—”

The vamp would. In that instant, Keenan could see everything the vamp had planned for Nicole. Her death would be ten times more brutal now. The future had already altered for her.
Because I hesitated.

“I’ll rip your heart out—”

Yes, in the end, he’d do that, too.

She’d die with her eyes open, with fear and blood choking her.

“I’ll shred that pretty face—”

Her coffin would be closed.

The fire twisting in Keenan’s gut burned hotter, brighter with every slow second that passed.
Why her?
She’d ... soothed him before. When he’d heard her voice, it had seemed to flow through him. And when she’d laughed ...

He’d liked the sound of her laughter. Sweet, free.

“Help ... me ...”
Her broken voice.

Keenan squared his shoulders. What did she see when she looked at him? A monster just like the vamp? Or a savior?

“No one fuckin’ cares about you ...” The vamp yanked the glass out of his neck. More blood sprayed on Nicole. “You’ll die alone, and no one will even notice you’re gone.”

I will notice.
Because she wouldn’t be there for him to watch anymore. She’d be far beyond Keenan’s reach. He didn’t know paradise, only death.

She tried to push off the ground, but couldn’t move. The blood loss had gotten to her and made her the perfect prey.

The vampire smiled at her. “I’m gonna start with that pretty face.”

Nicole shook her head and swiped out with the glass. The wounds didn’t stop the vampire. Nothing was going to stop him. No one. Nicole would scream and suffer and then finally—
die.

And Keenan would watch. Every moment.

No.

His hand lifted, rising in that last, final touch. His touch could steal life and rip the soul right of a body.

He reached out—and locked his fingers around the vampire’s shoulder.

The vampire jerked and shuddered as if an electric charge had blasted through him. Keenan didn’t try to soften his power. He wanted the vampire to hurt. Wanted him to suffer.

And that was wrong. Angels of Death weren’t supposed to want vengeance. They weren’t supposed to get angry. They weren’t supposed to care.

Killing the vampire was wrong. Against orders. But ...

She will hurt no more.

The vamp would not slash her pale skin. He wouldn’t carve open her chest or defile her body.

He’d just die.

The vamp fell to the ground, his body as hard as the stones beneath him.

Keenan didn’t worry about the creature’s soul. Those headed to the pit needed no courier. But Nicole ...

Her breath rasped out as her chest heaved. She was still alive, but barely. His hands lifted to her savaged throat, the move an instinctual gesture.

Stop the blood.

But he didn’t touch her. Couldn’t. Because, this time, he didn’t want to kill.

“Help ...”
Her desperate whisper made his chest ache.

His wings beat against the air. No humans were close enough to save her.

She was suffering, but she’d keep living. Until he touched her, she wouldn’t die, no matter how bad her wounds were.

Help.
Right then, killing her would be kinder than the nightmare she faced as she fought for every breath.

“L-live ...”

But she didn’t want to let go. He’d met a soldier like her once, lifetimes ago. A man who fought on, determined to hold back the cold touch of death. The soldier had been gutted, but he’d fought, desperate to stay alive, despite the pain.

Keenan hadn’t expected to find that same fierce spirit in the schoolteacher. He should have remembered the lesson humans had taught him before: Appearances could be deceiving.

Her lashes began to flicker, yet her heart still beat. He could hear the too-fast rhythm.

End this.
Death
would
be kinder than this pain.

But he couldn’t touch her.

His hands clenched and he tossed back his head as he yelled into the night.

That was when the wind hit him with the force of an avalanche, slamming into his body, lifting him up, and tossing him in the air, higher, higher. The wind took him away from the woman who fought so valiantly below.

The night sky whipped past him as the whisper of a thousand voices filled his ears. A dim light appeared, growing brighter, brighter—beckoning him upward, then blinding him when he got too close.

Darkness.

Keenan blinked and found himself on his knees. He’d been tossed onto a gleaming marble floor. Keenan knew who would stand before him even before he allowed his gaze to lift.

Azrael.
The leader of the angels of death.

“What have you done?” Azrael—
Az
—demanded.

Keenan closed his eyes and saw a woman bleeding out in an empty alley. Shivering with cold. “She still lives.” He rose to his feet, letting his wings spread behind his back.

Az shook his head. “No.”

Fear gripped him. “What? I didn’t touch her, I didn’t—”

“You confess to disobeying your orders.” Az’s face tensed. “You disobey—”

She was dead?
Determined to get back to Nicole, Keenan spun away from Az. No one else would take her over, not after what he’d risked.

“You knew the penalty for such an act.” Az’s words froze him.

Yes, he knew he had to answer for taking the vampire’s soul, but—

“I’m sorry, Keenan. You ... you were a good angel.”

Wait. Keenan whirled back around to face the blond angel. “I didn’t—”

“No, you did
not
. That’s the problem.” And there was sadness cloaking the words, when there was never any emotion in the angel’s voice. Never much emotion in any of them.

No love. No fear. No hate. Only duty. That was the way it should have been.

Except when I looked at her, I ... felt.

“Temptation can destroy us all.” Az’s all-seeing bright blue gaze raked him. “You had the chance to obey. You knew when the moment of her death was at hand, but you killed one not on your list.”

“He was a vampire!” The rage was new—something that had developed only when he saw the pain Nicole suffered. “He was torturing, killing, he deserved—”

“We all get what we deserve.” Az’s chin lifted. “Beware, my friend, this will hurt.”

What?

“I’ve heard it’s the fire that makes you scream the loudest.”

There was no fire—

The wind hit Keenan again, wrapping around him, but this time, its grasp felt like the edge of a hundred blades.

Az watched him with a hard stare. No more emotion. Maybe it had never been there. “Did you think we did not know the lust you held in your heart?”

What would angels know of lust? What would they know of anything but following orders, protecting the weak, living in that vast, blank world of
nothing?

“Why do you think she was given to you?” Az asked.

And he finally understood.
A test.
One he’d failed because he hadn’t been able to watch Nicole slip away.

“You broke our rules. You took a life not yours to extinguish.” Az’s cold voice floated to him. “And you failed in your duty.”

To take Nicole’s life. But, no, Az had told him that she didn’t live; he’d said—“
Where is she
?” He’d had to shout to be heard over the fury of the wind.

But there was no answer. Nothing but the wind howling. And then the fire came.

The fire ripped through his body, starting at his feet, burning up, up, even as Keenan fell, plummeting from the sky.

Expelled from my home.

He flapped his wings as he tried to fight that controlling wind, but—

He cried out in agony as the fire spread to his wings. This was no phantom fire—real flames ate at his skin and burned his flesh. Burned his wings, his
wings—No!

He’d never known pain, but after this day, he would never forget it.

The wind stopped. His body hovered in the air, his shoulders hunched and his wings burning. He tried to move his wings, tried—

He dropped, falling straight for the earth below, and he burned as he fell. Burned and burned.

Az had been right. The fire made him scream the loudest as he became the one thing he’d always dreaded.

A Fallen.

Nicole St. James screamed and bolted upright. The night was quiet around her. Too quiet. Stars glittered above her and, for a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Didn’t know—

The alley.

Pirate’s Alley. She’d taken a shortcut on her way home. She’d wanted to get inside that church. After hearing her doctor’s news and crying all day, she’d
needed
to get inside.

But the doors had been locked, and she’d taken the shortcut home.

Her hand lifted to her throat. When she swallowed, it burned, and her fingers touched something wet and sticky—
blood.
But she didn’t feel any wound. The skin was smooth.

She glanced around as her heart drummed way too fast now. She’d been attacked. She remembered that. One man. He’d shoved her up against the side of the alley, and then—

There was a dead man beside her.

Nicole screamed and did a fast, backward crab-walk away from him. The guy’s eyes were wide open, and his throat—it had been slashed good and deep with ... oh, damn, with the glass that was next to her.

I did that.

Vaguely she remembered her hand wrapping around the glass. She’d lifted it and—

Killed him.

She’d killed a man. Her eyes closed as nausea rose in her throat.

He tried to kill me.
The reminder blasted through her head. She’d defended herself, that was all.

The guy had bitten her. He’d ripped into her throat. She’d fought back, and he’d wound up as the dead one.

But ... but she didn’t have a wound anymore.

Nicole rose on shaky feet. Her throat burned, but it wasn’t so much from pain as from thirst. Her throat seemed so dry. Parched. Just how long had she been screaming?

Nicole’s gaze scanned the alley once more. This time, she saw the dark liquid on the ground. Blood. Her nostrils flared a bit. The coppery scent was strong. She licked her lips and realized she was starving.

“Ma’am?” A voice called from the darkness.

Nicole’s head whipped to the right. A man stood at the far end of the alley. She could see his long, tall shadow. Actually, when she narrowed her eyes, she could see his dark hair, the hard lines of his face, and the gleaming badge on his chest.

A cop. Finally.

The beam of his flashlight hit her, and she lifted a hand against the bright light.

“
Shit.
Ma’am, is that blood?”

Yes, she had blood on her hands. Her blood? His? Probably both. “I was ... attacked.” For all the dryness of her throat, her voice came out perfectly normal. Actually, she sounded way too calm. Maybe she was in shock because she sure didn’t feel calm. Her insides were churning, her heart racing, and—really, really weird—her teeth were starting to ache.

The cop crept closer. “Where are you hurt?”

Nowhere.
“I-I killed him.” She’d never lied to the cops before. Why start now?

Silence. Then she followed the slow sweep of his light toward the ground and the dead man.

BOOK: Angel of Darkness

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