Angel of Darkness (The Fallen #1)(32)

Thanks, Az, you *. The human curses and insults were coming much easier to him now.

“You were there.” It was too easy to read the disgust on her face as she grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you help me?” Her claws bit into his skin, drawing blood.

He stared back at her and barely felt the pain. “You were supposed to die that night.”

Her eyelids flickered.

“I wasn’t supposed to help you. No one was.” Cold, hard truth.

Her body shuddered.

He had to get out of there. Get away from her. Because he wanted to pull her close. Keenan wanted to hold her and protect her.

But the truth, the real truth ... he’d been the biggest threat to her all along. He was the darkness that had come to take her away.

Her worst moment—he’d been there. Watching.

All that rage and despair she had was directed right at him.

A fist seemed to shove into his chest. “I didn’t ... want to hurt you.” Another painful truth.

“You said I was a damn key.” Her lower lip trembled. “A key to what?”

His lashes lowered.

“Eyes up, angel.”

His gaze snapped up.

“What kind of key am I? Why were you guarding me? Why’s another angel spying on me now?”

“I don’t know why he’s here.” But he’d find out. “And you’re the key because ...” Tell her. “The night you changed, I fell.”

She blinked.

He pulled away from her and in a flash, he was at the door. Angels—even the Fallen—could always move fast.

“Keenan!”

“Stay here.” He didn’t look back. “You’re weak now.” Because the sun was rising.

“Oh, don’t throw that up at me! I can’t control the freaking sunlight!”

“Rest,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back.” That was a promise.

“No, you’re not leaving me! If you’re going after that angel, I’m coming, too.”

The wood was chipping off the old door. His gaze bored into that wood. “If he touches you, you’re dead.” Simple truth—an angel of death killed with a touch. “A vamp can’t even begin to compete with his power.” He opened the door and left her.



Elijah knew that dawn was coming. Sweat trickled down his back as he stared at the women easing out of the bar, their bodies held tightly by the men with them.

His heart raced too fast, his hands shook almost constantly, and a fist twisted his guts.

Withdrawal. He knew all the f*cking signs. If he didn’t get the drugs again soon, he’d rip apart. No, he’d rip apart any fool who got in his path.

He’d been so sure Sam would hook him up. So f*cking sure.

He tasted ash in his mouth. No matter what he drank or ate, ash was all he got.

And the whispers were calling to him. Taunting.

He’d first heard those whispers when he was fourteen. Those mocking whispers told him that the humans could see right through his glamour, that they knew what he was.

He needed to stop the humans from seeing.

Had to stop them.

Like he’d stopped the others. So many others before ...

No.

Elijah spun away from the crowd. He just needed his drugs. Once he had those, he’d be in control. He’d pick the prey he wanted—screw the voices. They couldn’t tell him who needed to die.

He needed drugs. The drugs shut up the f*cking voices.

Drugs.

He just had to find the right dealer. Someone willing to trade with a demon.





Nicole didn’t stay in the hotel room—she wasn’t some well-trained dog to do what she was told.

She grabbed the gun she’d taken from that feeding room and ran outside. It only took her a few seconds to get the weapon, but by the time she made it outside, Nicole discovered Keenan hadn’t left so much as a whisper of scent behind.

Damn him.

He’d seen. Everything. Her worst nightmare. Her pain and humiliation. Her terror.

He’d seen ... and he hadn’t helped her.

Damn the bastard.

He’d gone—fine. He’d better stay gone. She didn’t want to see him again. Because if she did, she’d kill him herself.

He’d been there ... and, moments before, he’d almost f*cked her.

The rage built as the hours passed. She found a small shop. Bought some new clothes and ditched his shirt because she was tired of his scent clinging to her. Her new jeans were tight, her T-shirt hugged her body, and the boots made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could kick some ass. Angel ass.

She walked onto the street and felt the heat of the sun on her skin. Her body was tired, her moves sluggish. She’d get cover—any place but that cheap motel room—and crash.

Her fury had given her the strength to stay out in the daylight, but her emotions were churning now, and they were draining her energy.

Betrayal. Yes, that’s what stabbed her right in the heart. She’d been so weak that long-ago night. If he’d just reached out and helped her ...

“I’d still be alive,” she whispered.

“No, Nicole, you wouldn’t be ... that would have been against the rules.”