Page 27 of Angel Of Darkness

Even as the demon turned and ran, she knew she’d be seeing him again. She also knew that if she faced him alone, he wouldn’t hesitate to go for her throat.

“We have to get out of here.” Keenan’s eyes were still drilling through that broken doorway. “Even in a dump like this, that crash would’ve attracted attention, and the cops are the last thing we need now.”

Right. She realized her claws were out and that burning black demon eyes were imprinted in her memory. “He was scared of you.”

“He should be.”

“I’m the vampire, but he was scared of you.” She turned and caught Keenan’s arm with her right hand. Her left still gripped the sheet and held it just above her breasts. “Before I go anywhere with you, I want to know just what the hell you are.”

That same grim smile tilted the corners of his perfect lips. “I just told you, sweet, I’m your guardian.”

“Bull.”

He turned away, those strong shoulders shrugging, and her gaze dipped down the taut lines of his back. Golden skin, muscle, and—scars. Bright, angry red scars. Two of them—each about seven inches long—sliced right along his shoulder blades.

“What happened to you?” The scars were still fresh and looked damn vicious.

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 fellow. She let the sheet fall and saw his eyes widen when he stared at her naked body. “You realize that tells me nothing.”

He didn’t speak. His eyes locked on her breasts as he took a step forward.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned even though her voice had gone husky. “Guardians are supposed to guard, not touch.”

That light flush stained his cheeks again. “Maybe we do both.”

Her nipples 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 of blood.

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 in order 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 man. At this rate, her tab was going to be huge. Suspicion slithered through her. “Just what all did you touch while you were bathing me?”

The bra was in place, pushing up her breasts. 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 once more. His shirt now hid those scary red scars. “If we stay any longer, the cops will be here.”

“I can handle Mexican cops.”

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