Avenging Angel (The Fallen #4)(2)

“You . . . you’re safe now.” He’d keep her safe. “You just need to rest.”

She didn’t speak. He didn’t know what else he was supposed to say to her. He never knew what to say to the victims. He just knew how to make the bastards who hurt them pay.

He was very good at delivering justice. But this time . . .

An angel.

She had to hate him. She knew who he was. Knew that his brother was the f*cked-up * who’d tortured her. Tanner cleared his throat and had to say, “I’m not like him.”

Her eyes never left his.

And he was still touching her. Her skin was the softest he’d ever felt. The smoothest. Her flesh was golden and perfect.

Or, it had been, until claws had ripped into her back and torn that flesh wide open.

Her breath exhaled softly. “When I’m stronger . . .”

Tanner leaned closer because he could barely hear her words. “What is it? What do you need?” Anything. He’d do—

“When I’m stronger, you should . . . stay away from me.”

He glanced at her small hands. They’d had to bind her wrists when they strapped her down. Not to hurt her, but to keep the little blond angel from hurting them.

The angel before him—Marna—she wasn’t some sweet and gentle guardian angel.

She was an angel of death. One who could, and had, killed with just a touch.

He could touch her all that he wanted. That was the way the game worked with angels. But the instant her hand touched him . . .

Dead.

If she wanted him dead, all she had to do was touch him, and she could send him straight to hell.

She smiled at him. The smile made her seem even lovelier, and then the angel said, “When I’m stronger, when I’m free . . . get as far away from me as you can.” The faintest of pauses, then, “Because I’ll have my vengeance.”

She didn’t look so broken anymore.

“Remember . . . to run, shifter.”

He didn’t move, and he damn well kept touching her. “I’m not the running kind.” Not anymore. The scared kid he’d been had died long ago. Now he fought any bastard who came his way, and he made sure to win his battles.

His angel kept her cold smile and told him, “Wait and see.... You will be. . . .”





CHAPTER ONE

Two months later





A girl knew when she was being stalked.

Marna didn’t glance over her shoulder as she made her way through the bar. What would have been the point? She felt his eyes on her. Knew he was there.

Sometimes, it seemed that he was always there.

Bodies brushed against her as she wound through the crowd. Marna didn’t recoil as she’d done when she first lost her wings. She’d grown used to the touches over the last few weeks.

Music blasted out in a steady beat from the speakers that hung near the ceiling. The place was packed, filled with men and women drunk on a powerful combination of alcohol and lust. The too-loud club shouldn’t have been her kind of place.

It was.

She made it to the bar and lightly tapped her fingers against the glass counter. Then she let her gaze lift to the mirror that waited behind that bar.

In that shining surface, she saw him perfectly.

Tall, strong, with wide shoulders and muscled arms, her watcher easily cleared a path through the dancers. Maybe it was the harsh intensity of his face that made folks step back. The man stalking so purposefully toward her wasn’t handsome, not really. His features were too hard, too stark.

But...

But there was something about the high arch of his cheeks, the square cut of his jaw and the sensual curve of his lips. With that thick mass of dark hair that skimmed his shoulders, Marna supposed that some human women might find him attractive. Even sexy. Humans always seemed to think the dangerous ones were sexy.

Good thing she wasn’t human.

His eyes, dark green and burning with a quiet fury, were on hers in that mirror. She almost smiled at him. Instead, she lifted her drink and sipped it lightly.

What did the big, bad shifter want now? She’d tried to play it nice. She’d told him to stay away. She’d given the guy fair warning, but . . .

“What in the hell have you done?”

Tanner Chance closed in on her. His voice had been pitched low, so that only she could hear him, and the guy’s body curved around hers.

He didn’t touch her, not yet, but only a few inches separated them.

She turned her head and felt the whisper of his breath on her cheek. For some reason, Marna shivered.

“You didn’t have to do it,” he gritted and, oh, yes, that was most definitely fury burning in his gaze. He’d better be careful. Too much fury wasn’t good for the beast that he carried inside. “You could have just lived your life. Could have just gone on—”

A laugh slipped from her, but the sound was bitter. “What life?” Her life had been clawed away from her. There was no heaven for her, not anymore. Just hell on earth. Feelings, emotions, needs—they seemed to constantly swamp her now, and they were driving her crazy.

No one had warned her about the hungers . . . for food, drink . . . pleasure.

Men.

Without the magic from her wings, every human need and emotion slammed into her, and each day, Marna felt she was losing a bit more of herself.