He grabbed a T-shirt and yanked it over his head. “I made a mistake.” He pulled another shirt out of a small gray duffel bag and tossed it to her.
She caught it and her fingers squeezed the soft cotton. “What kind of mistake?”
This time he tossed her underwear—her bra and panties. His gaze lasered on her. “The kind I won’t make again.”
Right. Nice and mysterious and broody. Keenan was sure striking her as a broody kind of guy. She let the sheet fall and saw his eyes widen when he stared at her naked flesh. Uh, huh. Look. “You realize that tells me nothing.”
He didn’t speak. His eyes locked on her br**sts as he took a step forward.
“Don’t even think about it,” she whispered. “Guardians are supposed to guard, not touch.”
That light flush stained his cheeks again. “Maybe we do both.”
Her ni**les pebbled. Down, girl. She still didn’t know him. Sure, she’d tasted him, but she hadn’t gotten so much as a whiff of his past or his current life with that drink.
He could be anyone. Anything.
No matter how sexy, she couldn’t.
Yet.
“Why’d you strip me?” She put the shirt he’d given her on the table, then pulled up her panties. She took her time hooking her bra.
He licked his lips. “I had to bathe you … to get the blood off.”
Nicole didn’t remember that. Actually, the last thing she remembered was that truck ride from hell. “Guess I should thank you for that.” She just kept on owing the guy. At this rate, her tab was going to be huge. Suspicion whispered through her. “Just what all did you touch while you were bathing me?”
The bra was in place, pushing up her br**sts. Yes, his gaze was still on them. Men, supernaturals or humans, were always the same.
“Not enough,” he muttered.
Her eyes narrowed.
“When I touch you with sex in mind, you’ll know it, sweet.”
He seemed so confident. But why did she see a slight tremble in his fingers?
He spun, giving her his back and showing her those red scars again. “If we stay any longer, the cops will be here.”
“I can handle Mexican cops.”
He laughed, a rusty, rough sound. “Maybe, if we were in Mexico.”
Oh, no. She shoved her hands into the sleeves of the shirt and popped her head through the top. The shirt swallowed her and smelled like him. Her fingers rubbed the bottom of the T-shirt. “Tell me, please tell me that you didn’t drag me into the U.S.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome. When you passed out, I saved your butt and got you out of Mexico—and away from the locals there who were out for your blood.”
She yanked up her jeans. In seconds, she’d found her boots. Nicole managed to shove her feet inside them just before he grabbed her arm and they stumbled through the broken door.
And, yes, sure enough, the wail of a siren was already cutting through the night. She stayed quiet while they stuck to the shadows and hurriedly jumped into the truck. They eased out of the lot, driving nice and slow, and cruised right by the black-and-white patrol car that raced into the hotel’s parking zone.
Nicole waited a minute, then five more, and as the truck ate up the miles, she finally spoke the words she had to say. “I’ve heard demons recognize each other on sight. That they can look right past the glamour and see the monster inside.” Her nails tapped against the rough armrest.
The truck sped up.
It was the way of the paranormal world. Like recognized like. She always knew when she was near another vamp. She’d heard that witches felt the power pull of their brethren.
“That demon,” she continued, “he took one look at you, and he got scared.”
“Because he was smart.”
Right. “But just what did he see?” She asked, letting her eyes sweep over him. “When he looked at you, what did he see that made him back off?” Not just back off—run away.
Keenan’s head turned toward her. Even in the dim lighting, she could see him clearly with her vampire vision. He had such beautiful blue eyes—wait, those eyes were getting darker. Darker …
Demon eyes.
“I guess he saw through the glamour,” Keenan told her, his voice quiet.
Oh, damn.
She was in trouble.
Sam stared up at the night sky. So many f**king stars. Millions of them glittered down on him.
Humans looked at the stars and they wished and they dreamed.
He looked at the stars and knew they didn’t matter. The stars were just chunks of glass in the black sky. No, the stars were meaningless.
Others were up there, though, nestled in the heavens. Powerful beings were pulling all the strings and making the puppets dance.
Footsteps thudded behind him. Sam inhaled, catching the scents of the one who approached. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Demon. Elijah.
No vampire. Fuck. The bastard would bleed for failing again. How hard was it to bag one newbie vamp? The lady was so fresh she’d probably barely cut her fangs.
Sam turned around, ready to slam a burst of power right at the demon, but the fear in Elijah’s black gaze stopped him.
And made him smile. Finally.
“Y-you never said she’d have backup.”
Because Sam hadn’t thought the vamp would. He’d worked so hard to cut her off from the rest of the world. Her silly little comfort system she’d had in New Orleans—ripped away. Her job—gone. Her home—destroyed. No family, no friends—they were all terrified of her now. No one wanted to be close to a killer.
When you isolated your prey, it was always so much easier to take ’em down.
“He could have f**kin’ killed me!” Elijah snarled, spittle flying from his mouth.
Sam raised a brow. “He?” His voice came out mild, as always.
“Him—yeah that f**kin’ angel that was at her side. And she smelled like him. Shit, ain’t there some rule about angels f**kin’ around?”
“Probably.” Undoubtedly. Another way to get cast out. Angels didn’t enjoy nearly the preferential treatment that the humans did. Screw up once … get ready to burn.
“And f**kin’ with vampires?” Disgust etched deep lines on the demon’s face. “What the hell?” Elijah didn’t much care for vampires. Who did? And as for angels …
Demons were right to fear them.
Sam took a deep breath and asked, “You’re sure the man with her was an angel?”
Elijah’s head bobbed in a quick nod. “There’s no damn way to kill one of ’em, you know that!”