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.

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“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 maybe 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.




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