Don’t trust her.
He knew better than to trust any demon, especially an unknown quantity like her. Maybe he should have just let her die in that alley, but—
Not her.
He’d seen enough women on the ground, with blood spreading like wings beneath them. When he’d heard her scream, the rage had burst inside of him, and he’d been at Seline’s side before he even realized what he was doing.
He’d taken the knife for her. Bled for her. What would she do for him? He’d find out.
Sam hesitated near her door. He could hear no sounds from inside her room. She hadn’t balked at being brought into the middle of nowhere, but then, if her story was true, she was hiding from a killer. Maybe being tucked away in the middle of a swamp was just where she wanted to be.
Maybe not.
His fingers curled around the doorknob. He twisted lightly. Locked. Sam almost smiled. Like a locked door would keep him out. If he wanted in her bed, nothing would keep him away.
But though he did want Seline, now wasn’t the time for f**king. Screwing a demon with unknown powers would be a great way for him to get killed. No, better wait until he knew more.
Just a few hours until dawn. He went into his room, stripped, and hit the bed. Maybe he’d get lucky and catch two hours of sleep. Maybe three. Then a new day would start, and the hunting would begin—hunting for the man after Seline and—more important—for his brother.
Because Sam knew Az was close. After centuries, Az had finally gotten his lily-white ass kicked out of heaven. How does it feel to fall? Payback was going to be hell. He’d make sure of that.
Sam closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and tried to shove the past away. For once, he’d like to dream of something other than death and fire. Was that so much to ask? Just one time.
His breath eased out. As he drifted into sleep, the fire came.
As always, it burned, searing his wings away and charring his flesh as he fell from the sky.
With her eyes still closed, Seline smiled as she felt Sam drift into sleep.
Time to take a walk into his dreams. Unlike others of her kind, proximity mattered to her. The closer her prey, the easier it was for her to slip into his dreams.
Her heartbeat slowed. Her being centered completely on him. Sam. Then, slowly, he came into focus in her mind.
Sweat dotted his skin—naked, strong flesh—and he twisted against the dark covers on his bed. Faint lines appeared between his brows and a growl broke from his lips.
It looked like he was in pain. Poor killer. Not having a nice dream, huh, Sam?
“I can make the pain stop,” she whispered.
His eyes opened. Flames danced around her for a moment. She could actually feel the heat on her flesh. Her kind always had such powerful, incredibly vivid dreams. This time, the dream wasn’t really hers. Not really his, either.
Ours.
Yet she had the ultimate power here. The things she saw now, the things they did—they would all be from her command.
She climbed onto his bed. The mattress dipped beneath her, and everything felt real. Because in a dream-walk, it was real to the spirit.
“Seline?” Sam’s voice came out as a deep, sexy rumble. “What the hell—”
She put her finger against his lips. “It’s just a dream.” Perhaps saying the lie would make what was to come easier. She forced a smile as she leaned closer to him. The rich scent of man and the harsher scent of fire filled her nose. “Nothing can hurt you when you dream.”
“Bullshit.” Then he did something a man had never done before in a dream-walk. He ripped control away from her. He grabbed her arms and rolled fast, so that in a second’s time, she was beneath him and trapped beneath his powerful body.
Seline’s heart nearly stopped. No, no.
“Dreams can kill you,” Sam muttered. He stared down at her with eyes that were far too aware. “But this is a much better way to go than the fire.” Sam crushed his lips to hers.
CHAPTER THREE
She felt real. Far too real for a dream. Seline’s body was soft and sensuous beneath his, and the fire was gone. No, the burn was within him now, burning from the inside as the lust flared higher.
Want her.
Sam was used to taking what he wanted. One look at Seline’s body on that stage in Temptation, and he’d craved. But he hadn’t just wanted a small taste of her. He wasn’t into sampling. Sam was into taking.
Claiming.
If his ass**le killer of a brother hadn’t been roaming the streets, Seline would have already been his. He tore his lips from Seline’s and pressed his mouth to the delicate column of her throat. She shivered.
“I can be yours now.” Her voice whispered to him, and shock had his body stiffening. She’d heard his thoughts. Heard and—
Too real. His fingers tightened on her flesh. Her br**sts pressed against his chest, her thighs shifted beneath his legs, and the scent of jasmine surrounded him.
There should be no jasmine now. Just ash. Smoke.
He only dreamed of fire and death. Not sex and pleasure and silken flesh.
But her fingers were sliding around his shoulders and skimming down his back. He knew she’d feel the scars soon. The thick, long scars crossed his shoulder blades. When he’d fallen, his wings had burned off, and he’d been left with only the jagged reminder of what he’d once been.
Her breath hissed out when Seline touched the scars and . . . pleasure knifed through him, a pleasure so intense it was almost pain. An angel’s wings were the most sensitive part of his body, and even the ghostly remnants of his wings felt her touch.
More.
His head lifted. Her taste was in his mouth—sweet sin—and he wanted so much more. Seline’s lips were even darker, even redder, from the crush of his lips on hers.
And her skin looked almost luminous, as if it were glowing. Had he really thought that she wasn’t classically beautiful before? The woman was f**king perfect. So gorgeous that staring at her nearly hurt.
Her lips curved a bit. “You won’t have bad dreams tonight. You’ll know only pleasure.”
His c**k was full and aching. Her legs were spread, and paradise waited just inches away. She was wet and arching her hips toward him.
Pleasure. When he’d first fallen, he’d gotten drunk on pleasure. Angels didn’t feel as a rule, but once he’d hit earth, the sensations had overwhelmed him, and he’d gone more than a little mad on them. Pleasure and pain were his favorite sensations. They made him react the most, and they made him feel alive.
When he’d spent centuries only feeling death.