On the Prowl (Bad Things #2)(31)

“Paranormal law. Yes, I know it.” Now.

“That wasn’t the only reason, though. I break plenty of laws.” His hands lowered back to his sides. A faint smile tilted the corners of his lips. If anything, that smile made him appear more sinister. “I liked pretending to be normal. It was a fantasy, but it was a damn fine one. Imagining what it would be like, to have a human life. To have a woman like you. To go out on dates and make love and do everything else a normal man does.”

But in the end, the fantasy had ended. He hadn’t become human. She’d become the vampire.

And now she was hunted. She always seemed to be. Go after the weak. That was the motto in the paranormal world. It appeared everyone could sense just how weak she was. A vamp who hated drinking blood. A vamp who felt guilty when she used compulsions. A vamp who had to literally psych herself up so that she could hunt.

I am evil. That was her hunting mantra.

It was utter bullshit.

“The island is safe for you. I had Marcos take the other paranormals away before dawn. So it’s just me, you and Rayce.” His lips tightened. “And the human, for now.”

The waves crashed against the shore and the sound was oddly soothing to her.

“So if you want to go off on your own for a while, do it. Get your space. Run free. I needed to run last night. Only seems fair that you get the same chance now. Go. I’ll be here when you come back.”

His words sounded like a promise.

She started walking toward the beach. Rose wouldn’t let herself look back at him.





Chapter Eight


An angel wasn’t supposed to be in hell.

Lila stared at her wings. A pale imitation of what they’d once been. She’d already lost so many feathers, and the others didn’t shine any longer. They were darker.

Weaker.

Just as she was weak.

“Hey, angel!” Another female voice called out to her. Her head turned, and she saw the muse frowning at her.

She didn’t know the muse’s name, just what she was. A muse inspired humans. Sent them soaring to incredible heights…because she obsessed them. Her power was dark. She focused the mortals on their task to the extent that they lost focus on everything else.

Her magic was deadly.

And she was supposed to be an angel’s enemy.

“Don’t cry, angel,” the muse said, her voice soft. “We’re going to get out of here.” She moved closer to the bars of her own cell and Lila saw the glint of the woman’s blonde hair.

Was she crying? Lila lifted a hand and touched her cheek. She was surprised by the wetness she felt there. Angels weren’t supposed to cry.

Angels weren’t supposed to feel.

So many things we aren’t “supposed to” do.

“Don’t lie to her.” It was the other woman’s voice…the witch. Another being that Lila was supposed to stay far away from because a witch was a dark paranormal. “Don’t give her false hope. We’re all dying in this hell.” She came toward the bars of her cell. Her beautiful face showed sympathy as she looked at Lila. “Better go ahead and accept it now.” Her hands lifted. She had such gorgeous coffee cream skin. When Lila had first met the witch, the other woman had seemed to glow with power. Her whole body had seemed to shine with an inner light. But that light had been fading. Slowly, day by day.

“I’m not lying,” the muse shot back, sounding annoyed. “I’m trying to inspire. It’s kind of my thing, you know.”

The witch laughed.

The witch and the muse. She thought they might be friends, of a sort.

“Your thing is to screw with the minds of mortals,” the witch threw back. “Don’t even try that shit with us.”

Maybe they weren’t friends.

Lila cleared her throat. “Our captor…he’s human. Why doesn’t your ‘thing’ work on him?”

There was silence, and she thought the muse wouldn’t answer her. She shouldn’t have spoken. They knew just how different from them she truly was. They were dark paranormals, bound to Luke Thorne, while she was tied to his twin brother, the Lord of the Light.

Tied to Leo.

Or…to the “dick” as the muse had called him.

Though she didn’t think he was a dick. Leo was her friend. When she’d first been taken, Lila had been so sure that Leo would come find her. But the days had slipped by.

He hadn’t appeared.

“I can’t do my ‘thing’ on him,” the muse muttered, “because he’s already obsessed enough. Why do you think we’re all here?”

“I have no idea.” No, that wasn’t true. He’d been taking her power away, one feather at a time. “I thought he wanted our magic.”

“Oh, he does.” The witch laughed. “But he wants it because he has a purpose. A plan.”

“What plan?”

“This is just going to make her cry more,” the muse warned. She seemed to be scolding the witch.

The witch backed away from her bars.

“Ignore her,” the muse ordered. She flashed Lila a smile.

She’s beautiful, too. All muses were supposed to be beautiful. It was part of their charm. Leo had said creatures like the muse were beautiful on the outside, but rotten on the inside.