Dark Fates (A Paranormal Anthology)(106)

One moment she was upright, and the next she was curled on her side. Fox smiled at her, and her internal protests turned off.

“Will you be here?” She didn’t want to miss a moment. Maybe he would lie down with her. If he did, she really didn’t want to miss that.

Another frown tightened the lines between his eyes. “You’re a stubborn one, Jubilee.” There it was again, the liquid caress of her name on his lips. The sound made her feel as though his mouth was on hers, and the fire in her belly stoked even hotter. She shifted restlessly. Want burned like an ache from her sex to her breasts.

“Go to sleep.” His voice firmed, and her eyes closed obediently.

But I don’t want to. It didn’t seem to matter. Her body didn’t care what she thought. It wanted to do only what Fox said, everything he said, and she tumbled into the abyss drenched in the warmth of his scent.

****

Fox studied the scrawny, slumbering woman and drew a finger along the bruise shadowing her cheek. The red mark and the surrounding puffiness angered him. He didn’t know which of the two men had inflicted the injury, but it gave him satisfaction to know they’d never touch her again. Her arousal perfumed the air despite the stench of death—and doubly so when she’d seized the alarm clock as a weapon.

More fragile than the wing of a baby bird, and she’d fought him. That alone was enough to intrigue him, but her scent wrapped around him. She seemed so intent on soaking into his every breath. He yearned to pound his scent into her, but he didn’t f*ck innocents. She looked young despite the dark eyeliner and punk clothes. Pulling his hand away, he glanced down at the dead men.

Killing them wasn’t a problem. Hell, cleaning up the bodies wasn’t a problem. Jubilee…f*ck, even her name was provocative. Jubilee was a problem. Raking his hand through his hair, he was considering his options when he heard movement in the corridor.

Two men from the sound of their heavy footsteps. Harsh, angry breaths punctuated their words.

“Where the f*ck is she?”

“I don’t know. Yuri said she was in sight, but he isn’t answering.” Right on cue, a buzzing noise hummed in the room.

“He lost her.” The first man cursed again. “Have them go floor to floor and keep someone on the doors. I want that little cunt found. No one steals from me.”

Fox’s claws slid out. He’d kill the first one that tried to touch her. The law didn’t specifically prohibit him from eliminating them. They were drug-dealing scum. Unfortunately, they were also human. Enoch, Kincaid, and Sage would need more convincing to accept the kills than the fact that Fox couldn’t stand them.

Rolling his head from side to side, Fox alleviated some tension with the popping of each vertebra. Bodies first. Jubilee second. Hunt third. His claws retracted, but the need to spill blood wouldn’t quiet. He dragged his gaze off Jubilee. No, the woman, better still, the human. Yes. Human.

Distance. He needed to distance himself from the hunger she had awakened in him. He didn’t get involved, and he didn’t need the complication of a woman he would most likely be ordered to kill. After locating his cell phone among the clothes he’d discarded upon arriving in the hotel room, he called the office.

The direct line took him straight to maintenance. Just his luck, he got Aja on the other end.

“You’re supposed to be off the clock for the next forty-eight hours.”

He hated the she-cat. She lived for gossip and loved to sharpen her wicked little claws on him.

“I need a cleanup crew.” He slowed his breathing and forced the unfamiliar protective anger down a notch. Impersonal orders beckoned fewer questions. “Send them to the Marriot. Twenty-third floor. Room 2313. Make it snappy.”

“You’ve been on vacation all of two hours and you need a cleanup crew?” Her laughter raked over him. “Damn, you’re getting sloppy.”

He heard Enoch’s voice murmur in the background.

“Why does Fox need a cleanup crew?”

Fuck me. The goddamn nephilim would never let him hear the end of it…and, right on cue, the fallen angel appeared in the room. Handsome to the point of painful, Enoch slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and swept his too-keen gaze over the room, taking in the packaged-up bodies, the pool of blood, and then pausing on the slumbering Jubilee. Ending the call, Fox moved between the angelic invader and the girl.

“I have it handled,” he said. “You don’t need to be here.”

“Really?” Enoch’s smile wasn’t a friendly thing. “You’re not usually this messy or naked.” He tilted his head to look around Fox. “And she’s overdressed for play.”

“They were hunting her and decided to attack her in my room.” Fox shrugged. “I don’t like bullies.”

“Hmm. Did she see you kill them?” Of course, he’d zero in on that point.

He couldn’t lie directly. “She was hiding.”

“She was hiding.” Skepticism rifled through Enoch’s dry tone. “That’s the best you can do?”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s here. I’ll take care of it.”

Maybe she hadn’t noticed. She’d been in shock; that much had been clear. Who wouldn’t be traumatized? Her racing heart and the acidic odor of her fear had blanketed him the moment she’d pushed into his room. Already pale, she’d turned ashen when face to face with him, and, in her rush to escape, she’d jerked the door open.