Angel of Darkness (The Fallen #1)(72)

Keenan stared at him. “You burned her. Your gang attacked a woman. You burned her.”

“I-I didn’t throw my bottle! I-I didn’t—”

“But you didn’t stop the others, did you?” Sam leaned in close. “You were right there for the party, and you didn’t help her out.”

Pete started to shake.

“If she’s not in that cemetery, if she’s not still alive in that cemetery ...” Keenan ran the glass down Pete’s cheek and let the blood flow. “Then I’ll be back, and you will truly learn to beg.”

The guy’s face couldn’t get whiter. And he was one fast bleeder.

Keenan dropped the bottle.

But Sam caught it before the glass could shatter. Quick as a flash, he turned, and drove that broken bottle into Pete’s shoulder. Pete went down, screaming.

“That will teach you,” Sam said with his eyes slitting. “Next time, don’t just f*cking watch while a woman burns.”

Keenan turned away from the screams. He’d taken two steps when the angel scent hit him. His gaze zeroed in on the shadows near the bar’s entrance. No, not near the entrance, blocking the entrance. “Don’t get in my way, Az.”

The shadows shifted. He glimpsed the wings. Az’s stark face. “You’re losing control,” Az warned.

Losing? Lost it.

“Soon you’ll be like him ...”

Sam laughed behind Keenan. “Wouldn’t that be damn great? Then you’d have two pissed off Fallen on your trail.”

Keenan rushed for the door. “Get out of my way.” Because if he had to, he’d pound his way through the angel. He’d do anything to get to her.

“She’s made you like this,” Az said. But the shadows lightened as he pulled back. “She’ll destroy you.”

“No,” Sam spoke with certainty behind him. “She’s just making him stronger—and that scares you, Az.”

The shadows vanished.





They screamed when Nicole kicked open the crypt door. A guy and his girlfriend, both dressed in goth black, whirled around, their cries filling her ears. They’d been leaning down, lighting candles near another crypt, leaving offerings— Didn’t they realize the voodoo queen wasn’t even there anymore? Tourists.

“Look at her teeth! Oh, Sean, look at—”

Okay, the girl didn’t sound scared. More like excited.

“Bite me,” Sean whispered. “Please.”

Well, if he was gonna be offering ... She lunged forward and sank her teeth into his throat. His blood spilled over her tongue and strength started to push back into her body.

“Sean?” A thread of fear entered the girl’s voice, banking that excitement. “Sean ... she’s ... really drinking your bl-blood.” Then the girl let out a shriek. Her footsteps thudded as she ran away.

Nicole took more blood from her donor. Not too much. Just enough to survive. When she let him go, her savior slipped to the ground. Not dead, but unconscious.

She pushed her hands against the nearest crypt. The bones popped and snapped back into place as she reset them. Not perfect, not yet, but she’d make it through the night. She’d— “I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I, querida?”

Nicole stiffened. Carlos. “No, I guess you can’t.” She licked the last of the blood away and turned toward him. “You should have used that stake when you had the chance.”

He stood between two stone vaults, his claws scraping over them. “I’ll take the chance now. Your angel can just mourn over your broken body.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“The bait’s already set. I wager one of the bikers broke by now and told him where you were.” He pulled out the stake. “Let’s see how fast you can die.”

He leapt at her.

But Nicole was ready for him. She jumped back and the stake missed her. She kicked out and caught his wrist with her foot. This time, the bone that snapped was his. When the stake flew from his hand, she scrambled after it, diving to her knees. Her fingers curled around the wood just as Carlos grabbed her legs and yanked her back.

“I’ll cut off your f*cking head—”

She had the stake. She twisted and came up ready. Nicole drove the stake right into his chest. “And I’ll take your heart.” Her whisper.

Another kill. Another death.

What was one more stain on her black soul?

He stared at her, mouth open, eyes gaping, then he sagged back, slipping onto the ground as blood began to pool beneath him.

Killing again hadn’t been nearly as hard as she’d hoped.

Connor had been right. Perhaps she did have a talent for murder. Damn him.

She closed her eyes.

“Nicole!” A roar that was her name.

Keenan. Her eyes flew right back open. And it was just like Carlos had said. She could see Keenan now, running toward her, snaking through the vaults. He wasn’t even checking around him for an attack—just running straight for her, his gaze locked on her.

He would have run right into Carlos and never seen the danger until the claws were at his throat.

“It’s okay,” she called out as she rose and hurried forward. “I—”

Bones snapped. Crunched. Still not hers. Not. Hers. Goose bumps rose on her arms. Nicole glanced back over her shoulder.