Page 104 of Angel Of Darkness

As she stared at him, trying to understand what had happened, a new scent teased her nose. Wild, musky, like an animal.

“You really are just a baby to this game, aren’t you?” A male voice asked, one with a hint of Mexico purring beneath the words. “Querida, you don’t even know what I am, do you?”

Slowly, carefully, she turned her head to the right. A man walked from the woods. His shoulders were pushed back, his pace slow and steady, and a wide grin stretched across his handsome face.

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Square jaw. Cruel lips.

A face she’d seen before.

Mexico. Carlos.

Prey that had become hunter. Nicole jumped to her feet and felt the lash of pain sweep over her. “What are you doing here?” Dumb question. Like the others, he was there to kill her. Because of what she was.

His smile widened even as his gaze raked her. “That looks like it hurts.”

It did. She wouldn’t stop hurting until she drank and healed.

“Off to stop them, isn’t he? Off to kill them, for you.”

She needed a weapon stronger than her claws. “I wasn’t going to hurt you that night. I was just?—”

“Thirsty.” He smiled, and his teeth looked far too sharp to be human.

Vampire? No, a vamp wouldn’t care if she got a little hungry.

He lifted his hand and his claws were out. Not sharpened, razor-sharp fingernails like she had but actual, real claws. The kind an animal would have.

Oh, shit.

That scent, the claws—dammit.

“Figuring it out, eh? Took you long enough.” He sauntered closer.

Weapon! The fire sputtered on the ground but there was a broken bottle nearby. She grabbed it and held the jagged glass toward him. Glass had worked for her once before.

“Did you think that since you’re undead, you’re at the top of the food chain now?” His teeth snapped together. “Not even close.”

“You’re a shifter.” She should have realized that fact sooner. But she’d been so hungry in Mexico. She’d noticed his scent was off, but, hell, bad mistake. Nicole knew she should have paid far more attention when she first met Carlos. The hunger had blinded her.

“Um. Guess I am.” He shrugged. “That glass isn’t going to hurt me. Unlike you, I’m not weak during the day.” His dark gaze dropped to her neck. “If I wanted, I could rip out your throat right now.”

As weak as she felt, that might be a possibility.

Ten days. Nine, eight—who knew what was left?

Her nostrils flared. Was that the scent of flowers in the air? Did the smell come from the woods or from a watching angel?

Time’s counting down.

“But I don’t want to kill you. Not yet, anyway.” Carlos leapt at her. He grabbed the broken bottle and yanked it from her hands. He hauled her close to him, and the slam of his body against her burned flesh had her screaming in agonized pain. He caught her hair and wrenched her head back. “I fucking hate vamps!”

Who didn’t? She bit her lip to hold back another cry.

“You’re a screamer. Ah, I like that.” His claws slipped down her cheek. “Before we’re done, I’ll make sure you scream plenty.”

Her own claws were lengthening as the rage and fear built. Her fangs burned and if she had the chance, she’d?—

“What?” He wrenched back her head. “You want my throat?”

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