Angel of Darkness (The Fallen #1)(27)

Because she’d planned to. Once, he’d helped her to push away the misery and hate that had nearly consumed her. “I owed you.” Was there a price for pleasure? “I don’t anymore. You come at me or at Keenan and I’ll—” What? Could she really kill him?

Connor’s gaze held hers. “You never had the killer instinct, did you?”

“What will take out the demons?” Keenan demanded.

“N ... nothin’ ...”

The blade dug deeper. More blood flowed. Nicole’s hand was sweating around the gun. “Weapons like this ...” She lifted her gun. “They aren’t supposed to work against the stronger demons.”

“Nothin’ made by man ...” This came from Connor. His eyes had slipped closed. He’d lost a lot of blood, but she knew he’d gulp more down at the first opportunity. The man loved his blood.

He was right, though. The stories said that no weapons made by man could kill those all-powerful level tens.

If one came after you, then you were pretty much screwed.

But why would a level ten want her?

You’re the key.

To a very broken lock.

“If you can’t help me,” Keenan gritted, “then you’re no good to me.” Blood poured down the bright edge of the knife.

What was he doing? He shouldn’t kill. He was an— “Angel!” Max’s choked gasp froze them all.

Keenan leaned in close. “What about angels?”

“Angel’s ... Dust ...”

The knife lifted a bit. The blood still flowed.

“Heard ...” Max licked his lips. “Heard talk there was a voodoo priestess in LA—she mixed angel’s blood with some herbs—m-made the Dust.” He was talking fast now. “It’s poison to demons. Even the badasses ...”

“You don’t have any of that Dust here?” Keenan wanted to know.

“No.” A rough laugh. “Takes a lot of their blood ... to make it ... And I ain’t seen no f*ckin’ angels to kill.”

The knife trembled over Max’s throat. She knew just how badly Keenan wanted to do some killing of his own then.

She hurried to him and brushed her left hand over his arm. “We need to get out of here.”

Keenan nodded and rose, his body stone hard.

Nicole looked at the door. Vamps stood there. Smiling, waiting. They’d have to fight their way out. Pity she wasn’t a very good fighter.

“You shouldn’t turn on your kind,” the blond woman in front of the pack said, her teeth stained red. “Not very loyal.”

Nicole forced a shrug. “Guess I’m just not the loyal type—”

Fire exploded. A red-hot ball of flames flew right at the blonde and the other waiting vamps. They screamed and ran, fighting each other in their fury to escape from the fire.

A fire that had come from nowhere.

No, not nowhere. Keenan’s hand was up and his fingers pointed right at the fire. Wisps of smoke surrounded his hand. The smoke curled over him and seemed to hold him tight.

Because the fire had come from him.

Damn.

Demons could control fire. Apparently, angels could, too.

Nicole managed to shut her mouth. Then she shook her head. “You should have mentioned that little talent sooner.” She could have saved some bullets. Actually, she would save some. Silver would definitely come in handy for her at some point.

The vamps were running, really hauling butt now. Nicole tucked the weapon into the back waistband of her jeans.

Keenan glanced at his smoking fingers. “Didn’t realize I had the talent.”

She pushed him toward the door. “Keep that hand up. You might have to burn us a way out of here.”

But, no, the vamps had scattered. The humans were still there, and they stared with dazed eyes and bloody bodies.

Nicole’s jaw locked. Why do they choose to be prey?

“Come on,” Keenan said, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. She jerked at the contact because his touch was so hot. Not hot enough to burn, but ...

She swallowed and her gaze met his. “Keenan ...”

He’d already looked away. “I should burn this place to the ground.”

“They won’t leave,” she said, waving her hand toward the humans. “They’re too far gone. You burn it, and they’ll die.”

He stalked toward the door. She glanced back, that blood tempting her ...

Until she met those vacant stares. Lost. Helpless. Desperate.

Me.

The motorcycle was still parked outside. A miracle in this neighborhood. She secured the gun in the saddlebags, and they climbed onto the bike. He revved the engine, then they streaked forward. She held on tight, as tight as she could, and drunk in the heat that flowed off his body the way she’d normally drink in blood.

A shudder shook him, a long, hard shudder. Her hold tightened on him. “Keenan?”

The motorcycle sped faster as it ate up the pavement. She glanced back. No sign of vamps.

He snaked to the left. To the right. Then he turned down an alley and the motorcycle snarled to a stop. He jumped off the bike at once and stormed away from her.

“Keenan?” She sat on the bike, uncertain as she watched him. “What’s wrong?”

He jerked at his shirt and ripped the material from collar to waist, a long, jagged tear that revealed his chest. “So ... hot.”