Page 28 of Angel Of Darkness

He laughed. A rusty, rough sound. “Maybe, if we were in Mexico.”

Oh, no. She shoved her hands into the sleeves of the shirt and popped her head through the top. The shirt swallowed her and smelled like him. Her fingers rubbed the bottom of the T-shirt. “Tell me, please tell me that you didn’t drag me into the U.S.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. When you passed out, I saved your butt and got you out of Mexico and away from the locals there who were out for your blood.”

She hauled up her jeans. In seconds, she’d found her boots. Nicole managed to shove her feet inside them just before he grabbed her arm and they stumbled through the broken door.

And, yes, sure enough, the wail of a siren was already cutting through the night. She stayed quiet while they stuck to the shadows and hurriedly jumped into the truck. They eased out of the lot, driving nice and slow, and cruised right by the black-and-white patrol car that raced into the motel’s parking lot.

Nicole waited a minute, then five more, and as the truck ate up the miles, she finally spoke the words she had to say. “I’ve heard demons recognize each other on sight. That they can look right past the glamour and see the monster inside.” Her nails tapped against the rough armrest.

The truck sped up.

It was the way of the paranormal world. Like recognized like. She always knew when she was near another vamp. She’d heard that witches felt the power pull of their brethren.

“That demon,” she continued carefully, “he took one look at you, and he got scared.”

“Because he was smart.”

Right. “But just what did he see?” Nicole asked as she let her gaze sweep over him. “When he looked at you, what did he see that made him back off?” Not just back off—run away.

Keenan’s head turned toward her. Even in the dim lighting, she could see him clearly with her vampire vision. He had such beautiful blue eyes. Wait, those eyes were getting darker. Darker.

Demon eyes.

“I guess he saw through the glamour,” Keenan told her, his voice quiet.

Oh, damn.

She was in trouble.

Sam stared up at the night sky. So many fucking stars. Millions of them glittered down on him.

Humans looked at the stars and they wished and they dreamed.

He looked at the stars and knew they didn’t matter. The stars were just chunks of glass in the black sky. No, the stars were meaningless.

Others were up there, though, nestled in the heavens. Powerful beings were pulling all the strings and making the puppets dance.

Footsteps thudded behind him. Sam inhaled, catching the scents of the one who approached. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Demon. Elijah.

No vampire. Fuck. The bastard would bleed for failing again. How hard was it to bag one newbie vamp? The lady was so fresh she’d probably barely cut her fangs.

Sam turned around, ready to slam a burst of power right at the demon, but the fear in Elijah’s black gaze stopped him. And made Sam smile. Finally.

“Y-you never said she’d have backup.”

Because Sam hadn’t thought the vamp would. He’d worked so hard to cut her off from the rest of the world. Her silly little comfort system she’d had in New Orleans—ripped away. Her job—gone. Her home—destroyed. No family, no friends—they were all terrified of her now. No one wanted to be close to a killer.

When you isolated your prey, it was always so much easier to take them down.

“He could have fuckin’ killed me!” Elijah snarled, spittle flying from his mouth.

Sam raised a brow. “He?” His voice came out mild, as always.

“Him—yeah that fuckin’ angel that was at her side. And she smelled like him. Shit, ain’t there some rule about angels fuckin’ around?”

“Probably.” Undoubtedly. Another way to get cast out. Angels didn’t enjoy nearly the preferential treatment that the humans did. Screw up once—get ready to burn.

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