Avenging Angel (The Fallen #4)(82)

It pissed him off that she even said the words. But, with care—because it was her—he lifted his hand and caught her chin. “Baby, I won’t touch his wings.”

She blinked and a faint furrow appeared between her brows.

“But I am gonna kick his ass. That angel needs to stop lusting after you, and I’ll make sure he does.” Time for Bastion to realize that she’s mine. He wasn’t giving her up to anyone or anything.

Even an angel who might be better for her.

Mine.

Because he did believe in forever.

“I’m not afraid of you, shifter,” Bastion shouted. “You think because you’re high on angel blood that you’re some kind of threat?” A sneer twisted his face. “You’re nothing, you’re—”

Marna stepped to the side. “A little ass beating.” Her gaze turned to Bastion. “Because no one calls Tanner ‘nothing’.”

Fuck but he could love her. Could?

The angel tried to fight. Tanner slammed his fist into Bastion’s stomach. When the guy doubled over, Tanner kicked out. Punched. Tanner didn’t use his claws though because, well, he didn’t want to get any angel blood on Marna.

And you want to show her you can have control.

Bastion caught Tanner’s fist in one hand. Froze the blow. Ah, so he was gonna fight back.

“I’m not as weak as you think,” Bastion muttered. Then he hurtled Tanner across the room.

When he smashed into the wall, Tanner laughed at the impact. Now, things could get interesting. He leapt back to his feet and charged across the room. His right shoulder plowed into Bastion’s stomach, and he took that angel down old-school, football-tackle style. He might have even heard a bone or two crunch. Sweet music.

Tanner rose easily and stared down at the groaning angel. “I think you’re starting to—”

Bastion’s legs swept out. Nice move, but predictable. Tanner dodged easily. Grunting, panting, Bastion climbed to his feet. Aw, was the angel’s nose bleeding? Too bad.

“Okay.” Marna grabbed Tanner’s arm. “Enough fun.”

Not really, but for her, he’d stop. He’d proved his point. I can kick your ass, angel. Any day of the week, and if the angel wanted, twice on Sunday.

Bastion swiped the blood away. “You’re . . .” He grabbed his nose, cracked it, and put the bones back in place. “Messing with fate.”

Tanner shrugged. “Then fate shouldn’t mess with me.”

Bastion’s teeth ground together. His gaze, bright with anger, lit on Marna. “You’ve given a shifter resistance to the Touch. What do you think will—”

“Times are changing.” While Bastion’s voice had been heavy with emotion, Marna’s was cold. Quiet. “Angel blood is being traded on the streets here in New Orleans, and I’m betting in other places, too. We’re starting to be the ones who are hunted.”

His eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

“Tanner isn’t the only one that you’ll find hard to kill. The secret’s out,” she said, her shoulders rising and falling in a sad shrug, “so that means angels are on hit lists.” Her lips pressed into a tense line, and after a moment, she said, “So make sure you spread the word. We all need to stay on guard. It’s not just about us taking them anymore.”

It was about angels being the prey.

And angels being killers. Tanner’s gaze swept the angry angel once more. “One of your kind is killing in New Orleans,” Tanner said.

But Bastion’s smile mocked him. “Death angels kill every day. That’s not—”

“No.” Marna’s voice. With more heat. “We take souls. We follow the orders we’re given. We take those who are meant to die.” Her gaze held Bastion’s. “This is different. We think—we think it’s a punishment angel, and he’s taking the forms of other people to kill.”

Bastion’s smile faded away.

“He took my form,” Marna said, “and killed two shifters.”

“And he used my face when he put a cop in the hospital,” Tanner added.

Bastion’s head shook. “A punishment angel wouldn’t ever use another angel’s face—”

“He almost killed my brother just hours ago.” Tanner’s hands clenched as he remembered the cold fear that had coursed through him. And this guy was trying to play innocent? Not lying, but still twisting the truth. “You f*cking know. You were there when we were fighting to keep him alive.”

Bastion’s eyelashes flickered in the faintest of moves.

Tanner advanced toward him. “You were downstairs, waiting to take his soul, so don’t pretend otherwise. I’ve got your scent. I know.” He was so in the mood to keep kicking ass. “What I want to know—right now—is did you come after that bastard left, or were you there when that angel attacked Cody and left him to die in that alley?”





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Were you, Bastion?” Marna pressed. “Did you see the punishment angel who attacked him? Were you there?” Because if Bastion knew who was playing a deadly game with her life, and he didn’t tell her . . .

Maybe she’d let Tanner keep up that ass-kicking. Or maybe she’d try a little ass-kicking herself.