They truly were lambs out walking blindly with wolves. Or shifters.
“Duncan, f**k!” The shifter still holding the woman stared in shock at his burning friend and then glared at Az. “You just asked for death.”
Az didn’t stop his smile from spreading this time. “No, you did.”
The shifter threw the woman against the nearby wall, and Az heard the sickening thud as her head hit the bricks. Then the leader and his backup dog both charged at Az. Az thought about playing with more fire, but he opted to get his hands dirty this time. He punched out, striking so fast he knew the shifters wouldn’t even be able to see the movements of his hands and body, and in seconds, they were on the ground, bleeding and broken.
He dusted off his hands. Hmmm . . . He hadn’t even gotten blood on his knuckles. Perhaps he was getting better at this business of physical fighting.
When he was sure they weren’t about to rise, he stepped over their prone bodies and stalked toward the woman.
He hadn’t just watched this time. The knowledge sank into him as he approached her. An innocent hadn’t died while he looked on. Az reached for her. A faint line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Gently, because he could show gentleness, he wiped the blood away and gazed down at her.
Humans were too weak. They could be broken and killed far too easily. He knew. He’d killed thousands of them in his time.
He lifted her into his arms and her head rolled back against his shoulder. The scent of strawberries was stronger, and a strange ache burned in his chest even as a rough tightness filled his body.
Her lashes cast dark shadows on her cheeks, and the flickering glow of a streetlight fell through the alley and hit the black curtain of her hair.
Holding her carefully, he turned toward the alley’s entrance. Police sirens screamed in the distance, and, though it was already nearing dawn, he could still hear the drunken laughter that floated on the breeze.
During Mardi Gras, no one ever slept in this city.
“D-dumb . . . bastard . . .” It was the shifter who’d held the woman moments before. He spat blood on the ground and tried to rise. Failed. Since Az had broken both of his legs, the guy would need to shift in order to heal. Az figured he had a few more moments before the man had enough strength to shift.
Before any of them did.
And he and his human would be long gone by then. Tightening his arms around her, he stepped over the broken bodies once more and ignored the growled curses that filled the air.
As he left the alley, he tossed one last stare back at the shifters. “Come after me, and you’ll only find death.” He felt it was only fair to warn them. If they chose to ignore his helpful warning . . .
Then they could meet death.
The rage in their already glowing eyes had another smile lifting his lips. You’ll come for me. So be it. He turned and stalked into the waning night with his human.
She was soft in his arms, a lightweight. Did she know how lucky she’d been? Probably not. In his experience, most humans were completely oblivious to the dangers that surrounded them.
The majority of humans roaming the earth didn’t even know about the existence of the Other, all of the paranormal creatures that often walked right beside mortals. Demons, vampires, djinn—all of the so-called monsters were real.
Humans just didn’t realize that fact.
The woman he held was a human who’d survived a pack shifter attack. He figured the odds of that survival were usually about a million to one.
Of course, those odds changed considerably when a Fallen became involved.
Few creatures on this earth were stronger than he was.
He snaked through the streets, turning left, right, and no one he passed so much as blinked in surprise at the sight of an unconscious, bloody woman in his arms.
Mardi Gras.
He’d just reached the steps of his apartment in the Quarter when an animal’s roar reached him. The loud, ferocious cry of a big cat.
Az stilled. The men had shifted faster than he expected.
He hurried inside his apartment and kicked the door closed behind him. Then he carried her to the couch. The woman’s eyes were still closed when he placed her on the cushions and a faint moan slipped from her lips as he eased her out of his arms.
Az stepped back and stared down at her. Pretty, he supposed. She had delicate, almost innocent features that were belied by the plump fullness of her mouth. His gaze tracked down her body. Humans were obsessed with sex. He’d always known that, so he supposed human males would be pleased with the woman’s curving body and long, long legs. He was—
Pleased as well.