Angel Betrayed (The Fallen #2)(43)

“Now,” Mateo ordered.

Seline took a deep breath, then she sliced across the tip of her left index finger. “Just a few drops, right?” The blood dripped onto the mirror.

Mateo’s body jolted. His eyes went blind as he cried out.

Then he started to shake. Hard tremors rattled his frame. A gust of wind swirled through the room, and a deep crack raced across the ceiling.

Seline looked at Sam with wide eyes. “Is this supposed to happen?”

No.

He took the knife. “Mateo!”

The witch fell back. Mateo sucked in great gulps of air. Sam caught sight of the deep claw marks on his arms and back.

Sometimes, you had to pay a price for seeing the future.

With this job, Mateo’s debt to Sam would finally be paid in full.

Sam had killed for the witch. Wiped out four coyote shifters. Now it was Mateo’s turn to face the dark.

Sam’s left hand wrapped around the witch’s shoulder. “What did you see?”

Seline began to sidle toward the door. Sam glanced up and pinned her with a stare. “Going someplace?”

“What?” She shrugged. “Look, whatever he saw, that couldn’t have been good.”

So she was already preparing to run away? “You aren’t leaving.”

“Yeah? Well, you need to—”

“Az comes for her.”

Mateo’s gravelly voice had Seline halting.

“He seeks her now,” Mateo said, voice weaker as he tried to straighten. “He won’t stop until he finds her.”

Well, well. “Why?”

Mateo looked up at him. “Death.”

“He already promised me that sweet deal,” Seline said, sounding very aggravated. “I told you this.”

“Won’t stop,” Mateo muttered, his eyes squeezing shut as he rocked back and forth. “Nothing will stop him . . . will come . . . her.”

Sam’s gaze locked on Seline. “Interesting.” The word was growled.

Seline swallowed. “Not really. To know that I have a psycho stalker isn’t exactly what I’d term interesting news. Terrifying, maybe. Not interesting.”

“Why her?” Sam demanded, and felt a lick of rage spike his blood.

Mateo’s dark eyes opened. “Don’t know why. Only know what will be.”

“Does he get her?” Sam asked, voice flat.

“Yeah. I’d like to know that one, too.” Seline brought her hand to her lips and quickly sucked her bleeding index finger.

Lust jolted Sam.

Blood and sex. Usually, the combination only worked for vampires.

Her mouth—

She lowered her hand. “You said he wouldn’t stop. Does that mean—when you looked in that mirror—did you see him kill me?” Fear had her eyes widening.

Sam knew the witch would give Seline the truth, whether she really wanted to hear it or not. “I saw you covered in blood,” the witch told her.

“Maybe it was someone else’s blood.” She sounded flippant, but Sam saw the tremble of her hand. “I can kick ass, too, you know.”

Sam took the knife. “You ready?” She wouldn’t die. If Mateo had actually seen her death, he would have said that. Mateo wasn’t the type to sugarcoat, even for a lady.

Especially for a lady.

She might have been hurt, but in Mateo’s vision, she’d still been breathing.

I’ll make sure she stays alive.

Unlike Seline, Sam didn’t lightly cut his finger. Instead, he sliced his arm, right above the wrist, and the blood splattered onto the mirror.

Mateo took a deep breath. Sam heard him mutter, “I don’t want to see this shit.”

Too late.

Mateo’s body began to spasm. He leaned in close to the glass. Then he screamed.

An instant later, Mateo collapsed on the floor, completely unconscious.





Angels weren’t supposed to lust. They weren’t supposed to covet. They weren’t supposed to want.

They were supposed to guard. To watch. Not interfere.

So many rules.

Tomas had never been particularly good at following the rules.

Guess that’s why I fell. He stretched his shoulders and felt the burn of the scars that would never fade.

Tomas strode out of the cantina. Voices followed him, and laughter drifted in his wake. The night waited, dark and deep, with stars glistening overhead.

He didn’t look to the heavens much these days. What was the point? He knew who looked back, and those guy upstairs sure wouldn’t be granting him any favors anytime soon.

Tomas hurried down the narrow alleyway. He’d crash at his motel and hit the road come morning. Time for another town. More cantinas. More drinks. More women to try and make him forget . . . her.

The softest rustle sounded behind him. Could have been nothing. Could have been a rat. A piece of garbage rolling in the breeze.

But Tomas stopped at the sound, and an icy shiver of awareness skated over him. Since he’d fallen, he’d learned a lot about survival. Rule number one . . . never ignore your instincts. When you felt hunted, you probably were.

He glanced back and saw nothing but the shadows.

Rule number two . . . there’s always more to the night than you see.