End this. Death would be kinder than this pain.
But he couldn’t touch her.
His hands clenched and he tossed back his head as he yelled into the night.
That was when the wind hit him with the force of an avalanche, slamming into his body, lifting him up, and tossing him in the air, higher, higher. The wind took him away from the woman who fought so valiantly below.
The night sky whipped past him as the whisper of a thousand voices filled his ears. A dim light appeared, growing brighter, brighter—beckoning him upward, then blinding him when he got too close.
Darkness.
Keenan blinked and found himself on his knees. He’d been tossed onto a gleaming marble floor. Keenan knew who would stand before him even before he allowed his gaze to lift.
Azrael. The leader of the angels of death.
“What have you done?” Azrael—Az—demanded.
Keenan closed his eyes and saw a woman bleeding out in an empty alley. Shivering with cold. “She still lives.” He rose to his feet, letting his wings spread behind his back.
Az shook his head. “No.”
Fear gripped him. “What? I didn’t touch her, I didn’t—”
“You confess to disobeying your orders.” Az’s face tensed. “You disobey—”
She was dead? Determined to get back to Nicole, Keenan spun away from Az. No one else would take her over, not after what he’d risked.
“You knew the penalty for such an act.” Az’s words froze him.
Yes, he knew he had to answer for taking the vampire’s soul, but—
“I’m sorry, Keenan. You ... you were a good angel.”
Wait. Keenan whirled back around to face the blond angel. “I didn’t—”
“No, you did not. That’s the problem.” And there was sadness cloaking the words, when there was never any emotion in the angel’s voice. Never much emotion in any of them.
No love. No fear. No hate. Only duty. That was the way it should have been.
Except when I looked at her, I ... felt.
“Temptation can destroy us all.” Az’s all-seeing bright blue gaze raked him. “You had the chance to obey. You knew when the moment of her death was at hand, but you killed one not on your list.”
“He was a vampire!” The rage was new—something that had developed only when he saw the pain Nicole suffered. “He was torturing, killing, he deserved—”
“We all get what we deserve.” Az’s chin lifted. “Beware, my friend, this will hurt.”
What?
“I’ve heard it’s the fire that makes you scream the loudest.”
There was no fire—
The wind hit Keenan again, wrapping around him, but this time, its grasp felt like the edge of a hundred blades.
Az watched him with a hard stare. No more emotion. Maybe it had never been there. “Did you think we did not know the lust you held in your heart?”
What would angels know of lust? What would they know of anything but following orders, protecting the weak, living in that vast, blank world of nothing?
“Why do you think she was given to you?” Az asked.
And he finally understood. A test. One he’d failed because he hadn’t been able to watch Nicole slip away.
“You broke our rules. You took a life not yours to extinguish.” Az’s cold voice floated to him. “And you failed in your duty.”
To take Nicole’s life. But, no, Az had told him that she didn’t live; he’d said—“ Where is she?” He’d had to shout to be heard over the fury of the wind.
But there was no answer. Nothing but the wind howling. And then the fire came.
The fire ripped through his body, starting at his feet, burning up, up, even as Keenan fell, plummeting from the sky.
Expelled from my home.
He flapped his wings as he tried to fight that controlling wind, but—
He cried out in agony as the fire spread to his wings. This was no phantom fire—real flames ate at his skin and burned his flesh. Burned his wings, his wings—No!
He’d never known pain, but after this day, he would never forget it.
The wind stopped. His body hovered in the air, his shoulders hunched and his wings burning. He tried to move his wings, tried—
He dropped, falling straight for the earth below, and he burned as he fell. Burned and burned.
Az had been right. The fire made him scream the loudest as he became the one thing he’d always dreaded.
A Fallen.
Nicole St. James screamed and bolted upright. The night was quiet around her. Too quiet. Stars glittered above her and, for a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Didn’t know—
The alley.
Pirate’s Alley. She’d taken a shortcut on her way home. She’d wanted to get inside that church. After hearing her doctor’s news and crying all day, she’d needed to get inside.
But the doors had been locked, and she’d taken the shortcut home.
Her hand lifted to her throat. When she swallowed, it burned, and her fingers touched something wet and sticky—blood. But she didn’t feel any wound. The skin was smooth.
She glanced around as her heart drummed way too fast now. She’d been attacked. She remembered that. One man. He’d shoved her up against the side of the alley, and then—
There was a dead man beside her.
Nicole screamed and did a fast, backward crab-walk away from him. The guy’s eyes were wide open, and his throat—it had been slashed good and deep with ... oh, damn, with the glass that was next to her.
I did that.
Vaguely she remembered her hand wrapping around the glass. She’d lifted it and—
Killed him.
She’d killed a man. Her eyes closed as nausea rose in her throat.
He tried to kill me. The reminder blasted through her head. She’d defended herself, that was all.
The guy had bitten her. He’d ripped into her throat. She’d fought back, and he’d wound up as the dead one.
But ... but she didn’t have a wound anymore.
Nicole rose on shaky feet. Her throat burned, but it wasn’t so much from pain as from thirst. Her throat seemed so dry. Parched. Just how long had she been screaming?
Nicole’s gaze scanned the alley once more. This time, she saw the dark liquid on the ground. Blood. Her nostrils flared a bit. The coppery scent was strong. She licked her lips and realized she was starving.
“Ma’am?” A voice called from the darkness.
Nicole’s head whipped to the right. A man stood at the far end of the alley. She could see his long, tall shadow. Actually, when she narrowed her eyes, she could see his dark hair, the hard lines of his face, and the gleaming badge on his chest.
A cop. Finally.
The beam of his flashlight hit her, and she lifted a hand against the bright light.
“Shit. Ma’am, is that blood?”
Yes, she had blood on her hands. Her blood? His? Probably both. “I was ... attacked.” For all the dryness of her throat, her voice came out perfectly normal. Actually, she sounded way too calm. Maybe she was in shock because she sure didn’t feel calm. Her insides were churning, her heart racing, and—really, really weird—her teeth were starting to ache.
The cop crept closer. “Where are you hurt?”
Nowhere. “I-I killed him.” She’d never lied to the cops before. Why start now?
Silence. Then she followed the slow sweep of his light toward the ground and the dead man.
“He was biting me ...” But she didn’t have the bite-marks anymore. And surely, she’d just imaged those too-long teeth. “He was so strong. He wouldn’t let me go and I—”
Shoved a chunk of glass into his throat.
The wind whispered against her cheek and the breeze brought the scent of blood to her. Blood and ... the faintest aroma of flowers. “Someone else was here.” The certainty filled her. She tried to remember the other guy, but could only recall a dark shadow. A big, strong shadow of
a man.
And ... his eyes had been blue. Bright blue.
“A second assailant?” The cop came even closer. “Ma’am, I want you to lift both hands for me.”
She lifted them, aware of the clench in her gut. Why was she so hungry?
“That’s good, that’s real good ...”
A pounding filled her ears. A fast, wild pounding. And suddenly, she could smell everything—blood, flowers, sweat, cigarettes, alcohol, and even incense from the cathedral. Too much.
“I’m gonna radio for backup and we’re gonna get you taken care of, okay?” The cop was right in front of her now, and Nicole realized the pounding seemed to come from him. Her eyes drifted over his face and on down the strong column of his throat. There. His pulse hammered against his flesh in a double-time beat.
His pulse. His blood. So close.
Her hand lifted toward him.
“Is all that blood his, ma’am?”
She shook her head and the move made her feel dizzy. “II think some of it’s mine.” Nicole couldn’t take her eyes off his neck. Then the ache in her mouth turned into pain, and she cried out as she slapped a hand over her lips and tasted the blood on her fingers. As she hunched over, Nicole’s hair formed a curtain over her face, blocking her from the cop’s view.
The blood slipped into her mouth.
More.
The cop reached for her. She snarled as she jumped forward. Something wild and desperate broke loose inside of her. She grabbed the cop’s throat and pushed him back, back. Nicole slammed him into the alley wall.
“Lady, lady what the hell?”
That pounding was even faster now.
“S-sorry ...” The word sounded funny. When had she gotten a lisp? And what was she doing? He was a cop, she couldn’t—
“What’s wrong with your teeth?” He demanded, and he was fighting her, pushing and shoving, but she barely felt his struggles.
The beat of his heart drowned out his voice. She leaned in closer, so thirsty—no, hungry—and she just needed to bite.
Her teeth sank into his throat. His blood spilled onto her tongue, and it was good. Better than good. The best thing she’d ever had in her life. Warm and hot; life, and it was—
Nicole staggered back, gagging, horrified as she fought through the blinding hunger. No, no. This wasn’t right.
The cop watched her with terror filling his brown eyes.
“I-I’m sorry!” She’d attacked him and shoved him against the dirty wall, just like—
Just like that bastard did to me. She’d even bitten the guy. Her tongue ran over her lips and felt the too-long and too-sharp points of her teeth. No.
She’d bit him and drank his blood. Drank his freaking blood!
Nicole backed up, quickly, trying to get away from the sight and smell of the cop’s blood. His blood tempted her and right then what she wanted more than anything was—another bite.
She tripped over the body and crashed hard onto the ground. Her attacker’s body was so stiff and hard, as if he’d been dead for hours. But, no, wait, it had been just moments. She hadn’t been out that long, so ...
“Don’t move.”
The cop had lost his flashlight, but she could see him perfectly in the dim lamplight. He had his gun out and aimed at her.
“I don’t know what the fuck you are, lady, but I’ll put a bullet in your heart if you come at me again.”
I don’t know what the fuck you are.
Fear had her heart racing because she didn’t know, either.
The hunger was ripping her apart. One more drink, one more ...
She had to get away from the cop. If she didn’t, Nicole was very afraid that even the threat of a bullet wouldn’t keep her from his throat.
She’d never hurt anyone in her life, until tonight. Now one man was dead and another man’s throat was torn open and his blood tempted her.
She pushed to her feet.
“Don’t move.” His gun trembled a bit. “Unless you want a bullet in your chest, just ... don’t ... move.” He expelled a rough rasp of air. “Hell, you did this same routine on that poor bastard, didn’t you? You lured him in here, then went right for his throat.”
No. He’d gone for hers. He’d attacked with dark eyes and fangs like some bad horror movie vampire or something.
Vampire.
Her body iced.
Fangs. Blood. Thirst.
No. No!
I don’t know what the fuck you are.
That damn pounding filled her ears. Calling. Urging her to take another bite.
Escape. She wasn’t going to kill a cop. She wasn’t drinking blood! Nicole spun away and ran toward the square.
“No! Dammit, stop!”
Nicole couldn’t stop. Her teeth were fangs, her nails were sharpening into claws, and something was very, very wrong. Tears trekked down her cheeks as she raced for safety.
“I said stop!”
The bullet hit her in the back, but Nicole kept going. She didn’t cry out—too scared, too fueled by panic and the choking terror.
She ran faster as she thundered through the nearby square. Then she snaked through the streets. The sights blurred around her as she pushed herself faster, faster ...
And all the while, his words echoed in her mind.
I don’t know what the fuck you are.
She glanced at the claws—claws that had formed from her short fingernails.
Claws.
Fangs.
Consuming thirst for blood.
Oh, God. The cop might not know what she was, but Nicole was very, very afraid that she did. And she was also afraid that she’d soon be just like the bastard who’d attacked her.
A killer. A monster.
A vampire.
CHAPTER ONE
Six months later ...
When the woman with the midnight-black hair and dark red lips strolled into the cantina, he knew his hunt was finally at an end.
Keenan lifted the tequila to his lips, barely feeling the fire of the liquid as he tossed it down his throat. It had been a long hunt, but after all this time, he’d found her.
Nicole St. James.
The only charge who’d ever escaped him. The woman that, sure as the devil, had changed his life. The rage began to heat his blood because it shouldn’t have been like this. Not for him. Not for her.
He slammed the glass down on the countertop. She hadn’t even glanced his way. She’d just sauntered to the old, scarred tables in the back. What was she doing?
Nicole St. James was a schoolteacher. She was a woman who wore long skirts and loose, gauzy tops. She wasn’t a woman who wore torn and faded blue jeans, jeans so tight they hugged her thighs and hips, and she didn’t wear tops like that—tops that barely covered her breasts and left her midriff bare.
Too much flesh.
He yanked his gaze back up. Did she even realize how much danger surrounded her? And why was the woman in Mexico? She should have been home in New Orleans, enjoying the life he’d given her.
The one he’d sacrificed so much to make certain she had.
But no, she was leaning over some man and skimming her fingers down the guy’s tanned neck as she whispered to him.
Seduction.
The man rose, laughing, and turned away from his friends. Someone called out, “Mamacita!” as Nicole and the man disappeared through the small back door.
Keenan’s shoulders straightened as he rose from this chair. Okay, so he’d expected ... more. The woman hadn’t even glanced his way. Not once. She’d found her stud, taken his hand, and led the guy right outside.
Eyes narrowing, Keenan stalked after them. The man could find another lover. He had plans for Nicole St. James.
He didn’t bother going out softly. Keenan wanted them to know he was coming. He shoved his palm against the door and the wood splintered beneath his touch.
Then he was outside. The night air, thick with humidity and musky with the scent of wild animals, hit him. One more
step forward and Keenan caught the soft whispers in the air.
A woman’s husky voice.
A man’s hungry mutters.
The heat inside of Keenan flared hotter.
He turned the corner, and he could see them half-hidden in the shadows. Kissing. Nicole’s hands were all over the man. She was up on her toes, and her head lowered as she began to kiss her way down the man’s neck.
Keenan crossed his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat. “Uh ... sorry to interrupt.” No, not sorry at all.
Nicole glanced back at him. Same deep green eyes. But there was no surprise in her stare. So she’d known he was there? Well, it was pretty hard to disguise the smash and splinter of wood.
But Romeo must have been too far gone to hear because he whirled in surprise with his beady eyes narrowed. The guy’s shoulders blocked Keenan’s view of Nicole. The guy snarled, “Vete a la chingada!”
Right. Been there. He didn’t exactly plan to be taking another trip to hell. “You need to leave.”
The guy blinked.
“I want her.” Keenan’s voice rumbled too much when he spoke, but fury churned inside of him, demanding release.
So he was having trouble controlling his emotions. Getting slapped with all these feelings hadn’t really been part of his game plan.
“Too bad,” the guy snapped, his English tipped with his Mexican accent. “She’s busy tonight.”
Her fingers curved over the would-be-lover’s shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”
Keenan shook his head. “No, Nicole, you’re not going anywhere.”
Silence.
Then, slowly, her fingers unfurled from the man. She shifted her stance, took a step forward, and Keenan stared right into those green eyes—eyes that had haunted him for so many nights.
“How do you know my name?” She whispered.
He smiled. “You’d be surprised at the things I know about you.”
“I’ll take care of this cabron!” Romeo promised.
Cabron. Bastard. Keenan lifted a brow at the guy. “You should leave now.” Nicole didn’t glance at Romeo. Her stare stayed focused on Keenan. “Really fast. Leave.”
“What? No, we’re—”
Her head turned toward the man. “Leave.”
His eyelids flickered. “Puta. ”