When Nicole opened her eyes, Keenan was gone. She blinked, rose quickly, and pulled the sheet with her. “Keenan?”
“We don’t have much time.”
His voice came from the darkness on the left. Night had fallen, once more cloaking the house in its shadows. Nicole turned her head and found him unerringly. Sometimes vampire vision could be a good thing. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“You’re going to die.”
Not what a woman wanted to hear moments after rising. She licked her lips. “The sex was good,” she told him quietly. Way better than good. More, please. “But we’ve really got to work on your pillow talk.”
He pounced. No other word for it. He caught her arms and pulled her against him. “I’m not making a joke here. You’re going to die. I saw it.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms.
“Death angels always see the end coming for their charges. We know exactly what it will look like.”
“I-I didn’t think you had those powers anymore.”
She saw the sad twist of his lips. “Not sure it is my power.”
That didn’t sound good. She stared at his face, that perfect, sculpted face, and saw the rage lurking in the tightness near his mouth and the darkness of his gaze. “I don’t understand.” And she didn’t. There was still so much about this Other world that she didn’t know.
“Az is jerking me around. He sent the image because he wants me to know what’s coming.”
My death. She had to swallow to ease the lump in her throat. “Maybe there’s no escaping what will come.” She’d tried. Twice. But if death was just going to keep coming after her …
“You got out of that alley.” His fingers tightened on her.
Yes. Part of her had gotten out.
“Nothing is written in stone. Humans have choices, and now, so do angels. Az can take his f**king rules and screw off.”
Not very angel-like. But then, angels weren’t exactly cute little cherubs carrying harps.
They were big, dangerous men who could burn an enemy to dust with a thought.
“Get dressed.” His hands dropped. “We’re going back to the Quarter.”
“Why?” She’d already told him—
“Because if we’re fighting Az, we’ll need help.” He turned to leave.
She grabbed his hand. “This fight isn’t yours.” Did he think he needed to do some kind of penance because of what happened before?
“It is,” Keenan gritted out. He looked over his shoulder. His gaze seemed to burn her. “Because you are.”
Her breath froze in her lungs. “We aren’t—” Okay, they’d had sex. Great sex. But …
But she was a vampire and he kept thinking she was just a woman. If he knew the things she’d done, he’d be the one sending her to the afterlife.
And what’s to say he won’t? When he finds out that you’re not sweet Nicole any more, maybe he’ll change his mind. He’ll be the one to give you that Death Touch and then he’ll go back to the life he had.
While she—what? Got the death she deserved?
“You were my charge. Mine. Your life was mine to take or to spare. No one else’s.”
Oh, okay. He hadn’t meant that whole you’re mine thing in a sexual kind of way. Got it. Awkward.
Not as awkward as dying, of course. A close second.
Her fingers dug into the sheet.
“You lived in that alley. All the rules changed when you survived. Everything changed.” His hands fisted. “The angels have been acting like we’re the ultimate power for too long. Just because we can kill, it doesn’t mean we have to.”
“And you really think we can stop that guy, that Az—”
“Azrael.”
Oh, damn. She knew that name. “He’s not just another death angel.”
“No. He’s the Angel of Death. The strongest. The one we all reported to.” He shrugged with a little ripple of movement and her gaze went to his back. Again, she had the quick impression of darkness surrounding him, of shadowy black wings spreading high, but she blinked, and they were gone. “Az is the one who’s after us.”
Not really “us.” Just her. From what she’d heard, Az hadn’t wanted to kill Keenan. He’d wanted to give the guy the secret key—me—back into heaven.
“Lucky for us …”
Again with the “us.”
“Az has a powerful enemy.”
And what? The enemy of my enemy … “Who?” Her voice came out too rough.
His lips tightened.
Nicole knew she wasn’t going to like this even before he said—
“Sam.”
Damn.
Sam stared at the brightly lit stage. He watched the new girl as she came out to the driving beat of the music.
Tall, a little too thin, but she had nice br**sts. She didn’t really look like a stripper though, and she didn’t move like one with that dancer’s grace, either, but—
She turned to face him and her eyes, dark and deep, pinned him to the chair.
Power.
He sat up and automatically leaned a bit toward the stage. The strip club was his place. Temptation. A fitting name for a fallen angel’s hell.
But her … the new girl he hadn’t tried out … something was very, very off with her.
She began to dance. Her moves weren’t overtly sensual. They should have been.
She danced slowly, but still … the movement of her hips, the slow twist and roll. Oh, yes, sexy.
He realized the catcalls had stopped. No voices shouted and not even any whispers filled the room.
Every eye was on her. No one could look away.
Just like I can’t. Trapped.
Power.
He grabbed Ron, the low-level demon he kept in charge. “Who is she?”
Ron blinked. “Ah … she just started, I didn’t—”
“Name.”
“Seline. Seline O’Shaw.”
His gaze pulled back to her, almost helplessly. And he hadn’t been helpless in …
A thousand years.
“She’s not human.” Absolutely certain. He didn’t feel any glamour around her, but he’d bet a chunk of his power the woman on that stage wasn’t your average Southern girl.
She sure as shit wasn’t a stripper.
Because she wasn’t stripping—not all the way. A teasing dance, yes. But her movements were too deliberate. Every time she revealed something, she concealed it instantly with a toss of her blond hair or a turn of her body.