Avenging Angel (The Fallen #4)(56)

“What you’re feeling?” Tanner said, and a growl built in his throat. “That’s pain. Better get used to it. ’Cause there’s a whole lot more coming.”

Bastion’s hand dropped. Clenched into a fist. His wings spread out behind him. “You aren’t the first to teach me of pain.”

Tanner’s claws flashed out. “I can see you now, bastard.”

And how could he?

Tanner lifted his claws. Pointed right at Bastion. “If you don’t haul your winged ass out of here, I’ll be the last one to teach you.”

Angels didn’t fear much in the mortal world. Why should they? Weapons forged from mortal men couldn’t kill an angel. But a shifter’s claws weren’t a mortal weapon.

Claws like Tanner’s had taken her wings away. Those same claws could easily kill Bastion.

“This isn’t over.” Bastion’s vow. His gaze wasn’t on Tanner, but on Marna. “Not even close.” Then his wings swept back, and he flew high up into the air.

Marna spun back to Tanner. “How—”

“Nothing’s stronger than angel blood,” Cody said and winced as he hobbled toward them. “Hell, I could use some of it right now.” His wounds had started to close—enhanced demon healing—but he was still dripping blood.

“No. ” Tanner’s instant snarl.

Cody held up his hands. “Easy there, bro. You need to rein in that beast.”

Tanner’s eyes were blazing. She’d never seen them so bright. “I . . . can’t.”

As he stepped closer to her, his face a heavy mask of fury and need, Marna realized that the danger wasn’t over.





Russell Marchand raced through the woods with his claws still out and his fangs bared.

That f*ckin’ well hadn’t gone according to plan.

The pretty little police captain had told them that it would be an easy grab. A helpless angel. One lone shifter. They should have been able to take them out, no problem.

Then they could have cashed in on all that sweet angel blood. Drained her dry until nearly nothing was left and tossed the remains of her body to the highest bidder.

No one had said anything about the angel fighting back. Or about Tanner Chance getting so crazy when she was threatened.

Tanner. The captain hadn’t told him they were going after Tanner.

He remembered that guy. Back in the day, they’d run in the same pack together. Tanner had been wild. Always ready for the hunt. Now he was gonna act like some white knight?

Fuckin’ traitor. That’s all Tanner was. He’d turned his back on the pack. Fought ’em all. Why?

Because one night they’d decided to have some fun with that demon half-brother of his. Even though he had panther blood, the demon couldn’t shift. So what good had he been to the pack?

Stripping off some of Cody’s flesh while he screamed had seemed like a good way to pass the night.

Then Tanner had found them. And gone wild. Just like he had tonight. Just like the guy’s old man used to do. Nothing like the fury of the panther. Nothing like it in the whole world. The panther would strike down everyone and everything in his path until that bloodlust was gone.

Russell glanced over his shoulder once more, just to make sure he wasn’t being hunted.

Fuckin’ bastard.

Well, he was done with this town. Done with the captain. She thought that she had him by the balls because she knew about all the bodies he had buried? Screw her. He wasn’t gonna be her attack dog anymore.

Not a damn dog. He was a panther. He was strong. He was—

“Going somewhere?” the captain’s voice asked.

Russell froze. The captain sauntered from the trees, not a trace of blood on her. Her eyes were glassy, her smile too big.

But—“You were still back there . . .” Wait, no way could she run as fast as he could. Demons couldn’t run that fast.

The captain kept heading toward him. Nice and slow. He knew her, would recognize her anywhere. Hell, he’d f*cked her enough times to recognize her body and yet—

Russell inhaled. His claws flashed out. In an instant, he lunged forward and shoved them deep into her chest. “You aren’t her.” Because whoever the hell this was . . . she didn’t smell like Jillian. Not like ashes and sex.

Her head slammed into his, and he stumbled back at the power of the blow as he yanked his claws free.

“Wrong move,” she whispered.

He kept his claws up. Claws were a shifter’s best weapon. Claws could take out anyone—or anything. Even those f*ckin’ angels. “Who the hell are you?” Wearing Jillian’s face but . . .

Scents never lied.

Jillian’s features faded away, and Russell realized he was staring at Death.

“I’m the one who’s taking you to hell.”

Russell opened his mouth to scream, but it was too late. Death leapt forward and touched him.

He expected the end to come instantly. It was supposed to happen with a touch. Just a touch.

But he screamed in agony as his claws and hands were slashed away. Screamed and fought . . .

Death didn’t come instantly.

And soon he was begging—begging until his heart finally stopped.





CHAPTER TWELVE

He couldn’t stop the fury.