Angel of Darkness (The Fallen 1)

More.

The car’s engine idled closer. A siren blared on, a slow, droning wail.

“A cop …” Her husky voice was like a stroke right over his flesh. “If he sees the truck, he’ll think we’re hurt. He’s not going to leave …”

No. “This isn’t over.” His thumb brushed over her lips. Her eyes widened and then her tongue snaked out, licking him.

His heart shoved into his ribs. “Nicole, don’t run from me again.”

The cop was getting closer. Keenan could hear the tread and roll of the tires.

Her head moved in the slightest of nods. “After we get rid of him, you tell me everything, okay? Because if you’re not a demon, then what are you?”

He would tell her this much. “Once upon a time,” he rose, stretching to his feet and pulling her up with him. “I was an angel.”

Her lips parted in surprise, but then she immediately shook her head. “What? Come on, no way. Angels aren’t—”

“Vampires can be real. Demons can live. Werewolves can howl.” He raised a brow. “Why can’t angels exist?”

A car door slammed. Footsteps thudded toward them. “Oh, shit,” a rumbling male voice said. “Hello! Hello! It’s all right, I can help you!”

Keenan glanced back toward the wrecked truck. In the dark, a human wouldn’t be able to see them. The beam of headlights from the patrol car illuminated the truck’s wreckage. He turned toward the cop.

Nicole grabbed his hand. “Guardian … angel?”

Not quite.

“There’s something you should know,” he said, but didn’t look at her. Her hand felt cool against his overheated flesh.

“Wh-what?”

“Sometimes, angels really do fall.” She deserved the warning.

Nicole sucked in a sharp breath.

“And when we do, we bring hell on earth in our wake.”

She backed up a step. “So are you the good guy—”

He laughed at that. “Not even close.” But he leaned in toward her and pulled up her zipper, then snapped her jeans. His fingers lingered too long. He couldn’t help that. “But I’m not here to hurt you. Those bastards who come after you, yeah, I’ll hurt them, but not you.”

“Because I’m your key?”

He’d told her that in a weak moment. The truth should have stayed hidden. Too late now. He gave a grim nod.

The cop was swearing and yelling. They’d have to talk more later.

Keenan headed for the truck.

“If it’s all true …”

Her voice followed him. She didn’t.

“If it’s true,” she said again, and, so, what, a vampire doubted an angel’s word? The world really was screwed. “Then, Keenan, what made you fall?”

He froze.

“Angels don’t just … fall. It had to be something big, right? Something very, very bad.”

The cop’s flashlight hit him them. “Sonofabitch!” The guy exclaimed and ran toward Keenan. “Take it easy, sir, I’ll get you help, I can—”

Keenan lifted his hand. “I’m not hurt.”

“Neither am I,” Nicole murmured as she came slowly to his side.

The flashlight jerked toward her and illuminated her pale face.

“Ma’am, you sure about that?” The cop’s voice held an edge of worry. “That truck was smashed to hell and back.”

Apt.

“Not a scratch on me,” she said, her lips rising in a smile.

The cop—no, that wasn’t a cop. The older man approaching them so cautiously wore a brown sheriff’s uniform, complete with a shining silver star. The sheriff raised his brows. “Mind telling me what happened out here?” The worry had faded from his voice, and suspicion coated the words. His right hand began to inch toward his hip and the gun holstered there.

Nicole stepped forward.

After we get rid of him, you tell me everything, okay?

Keenan grabbed her wrist. Nicole wasn’t the same woman she’d been in New Orleans. He didn’t know what she’d been doing for the last six months. Drinking from prey, killing them?

Don’t know, but I still want her just as much.

That was the problem.

“Don’t hurt him,” he ordered, his voice a whisper.

Her expression never altered.

“Let go of that woman,” the sheriff barked. “And you both put your hands up high in the air.”

Keenan let her go and raised his hands. After a moment, Nicole followed suit.

The sheriff came closer, sniffing as he neared them. “Don’t smell no alcohol.” He peered at Nicole. “Ma’am, you been drinking?”

Keenan nearly smiled.

“No, I—”

“Holy shit.”

Now that gun of the sheriff’s was up and out—and aimed directly at Nicole.

“I know who you are.”

Keenan saw the fear flash on Nicole’s face.

The sheriff jumped back and pointed the gun right at her heart. “I got a fax in my office earlier today—one with your picture. You’re wanted for murder in Louisiana.”

Keenan heard the hitch in Nicole’s breathing. A faint sound, but one he caught.

“And you nearly killed a cop …” The deep lines around the sheriff’s eyes tightened and his lips thinned. “He came to help you, and you nearly killed him.”

“No, I didn’t!”

Keenan didn’t know this story. “Perhaps you have the wrong woman.”

The cop’s eyes darted to him. “You don’t want to be with her, mister.”

He held that stare. “Yes, I do.”

The sheriff yanked out a set of handcuffs and crept carefully toward Nicole. “No, no, if you’d seen what she—”

Nicole’s hands flew up and she punched the cop, her fist catching him under his jaw. The blow sent him stumbling back.

When the sheriff hit the ground, his eyes were closed and he was out.

“I can’t go to jail,” Nicole whispered with her eyes on the cop. “I didn’t want to hurt him, but I can’t—”

“A vampire would never survive in jail.” Or rather, the powers that be wouldn’t let her. He knew how the game was played. Some supernaturals—generally the low-level demons and the charmers—could handle prison. Vamps couldn’t. They’d start feeding on the other inmates and eventually, they’d have to be put down. Besides, it wasn’t like the jails could really hold them. Or the shifters, for that matter.