Page 118 of Angel Of Darkness

Her hands were clenched into fists behind her back, and the healing injuries burned. “I saved myself,” she corrected. And you.

But he didn’t want to hear that. He was telling her to go. To get the hell out of his life. And fine, she wouldn’t beg.

He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t touch her.

He must finally see the monster that she was.

She turned around and nearly ran into Sam. Her breath heaved out. The guy moved too fast. “I can find my way out on my own.”

“No.” His gaze drifted along the stone wall. “They know what you are.”

A vamp. Right. Seemed like everyone knew.

“They’ll use you against him. You can’t be separated. Not now.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes drawn right back to Keenan, and she saw him turn at Sam’s words.

Keenan clenched his jaw and snapped, “You know she can’t stay with me.”

“Control, Fallen. I keep telling you that you’ve got to have control.”

A burst of wind shoved against Nicole and Sam. “Around her, I have no control.”

Was that good or bad? Around him, she had no control, either. Except she wasn’t telling him to hit the road.

Carlos almost killed me. I hurt. Every part of her hurt. And she just wanted Keenan’s arms around her. She wanted to feel him. Strong, safe and alive against her.

He wanted her ass to walk away.

“Get the control,” Sam warned him, voice snapping. “Get it or?—”

“Or what?” Keenan fired back. “She dies?”

Whoa. Wait. This she?—

“Yes.” Soft but certain from Sam. “If you lose control, then Nicole dies.”

Well, damn.

Carlos watched the bastards leave. The asshole who’d killed his cousin bent down, brushed back her hair, then yanked off his shirt and covered her face with it.

Carlos’s muscles locked. He wanted that SOB’s throat between his teeth, but he knew if he got too close to the Fallen, he’d wind up like Julia.

One touch, then death.

Killing the Fallen would be harder than he’d thought. He’d have to take the target out without ever giving him a chance to strike back.

They were outside of the cemetery now. As he watched, the three loaded into a black pickup truck. He inhaled, drawing their scents in with the blood and the death. Finding them again wouldn’t be a problem.

Killing them would.

I underestimated my prey. It wasn’t a mistake he made often, and one he wouldn’t repeat.

When the truck’s taillights disappeared down the road, he tossed back his head and howled. Another loss for his meager pack. Another body to bury.

His bones snapped, reshaped. The fur melted away, and he went to collect his dead in the form of a man. He lifted the shirt from her face. In death, Julia’s pretty features were twisted. So misshapen.

She’d been terrified of what she saw in her last moment.

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