Page 50 of Angel Of Darkness

Like he’d stopped the others. So many others before...

No.

Elijah spun away from the crowd. He just needed his drugs. Once he had those, he’d be in control. He’d pick the prey he wanted—screw the voices. They couldn’t tell him who needed to die.

He needed drugs. The drugs shut up the fucking voices.

Drugs.

He just had to find the right dealer. Someone willing to trade with a demon.

Nicole didn’t stay in the motel room—she wasn’t some well-trained dog to do what she was told.

She grabbed the gun she’d taken from the feeding room and ran outside. It only took her a few seconds to get the weapon, but by the time she made it outside, Nicole discovered Keenan hadn’t left so much as a whisper of scent behind.

Damn him.

He’d seen. Everything. Her worst nightmare. Her pain and humiliation. Her terror.

He’d seen, and he hadn’t helped her.

Damn the bastard.

He’d gone—fine. He’d better stay gone. She didn’t want to see him again. Because if she did, she’d kill him herself.

He’d been there that terrible night and, moments before, he’d almost fucked her.

The rage built as the hours passed. She found a small shop. Bought some new clothes and ditched his shirt because she was tired of his scent clinging to her. Her new jeans were tight, her T-shirt hugged her body, and the boots made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could kick some ass. Angel ass.

She walked onto the street and felt the heat of the sun on her skin. Her body was tired, her moves sluggish. She’d get cover—any place but that cheap motel room—and crash.

Her fury had given her the strength to stay out in the daylight, but her emotions were churning now, and they were draining her energy.

Betrayal. Yes, that’s what stabbed her right in the heart. She’d been so weak that long-ago night. If he’d just reached out and helped her...

“I’d still be alive,” she whispered.

“No, Nicole, you wouldn’t be. That would have been against the rules.”

She spun at the hard, male voice.

A man stood a few feet away, his dark hair loose around his shoulders. He wore dark sunglasses, glasses that cast her reflection right back at her. Broad shoulders stretched the black T-shirt he wore. His back was pressed against the brick wall on the side of the building, and a faint smile curved his lips.

“Stopping you from going into that alley, saving you—those weren’t options for our boy,” he said as his grin stretched.

Our boy.

Suddenly, the day wasn’t quite as warm. She stepped forward, just a small step, aware of the few humans strolling down the street. No help there. “Who are you?”

One black brow rose. His thumbs were hooked in the loops of his jeans. “I’m a friend of Keenan’s.”

“An angel?” She’d been raised her whole life to believe in angels. She just hadn’t expected angels to look like Keenan or like this guy.

But I believe.

It was vamps and the other monsters she hadn’t believed in. That disbelief had come back to bite her in the ass.

He laughed softly at her question, and the sound sent a shiver over her. “I’m no more an angel than Keenan is.”

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