Angel of Darkness (The Fallen 1)

Her nostrils flared. Was that flowers in the air? Did the smell come from the woods or from …

Time’s counting down.

“But I don’t want to kill you. Not yet, anyway.” Carlos leapt at her. He grabbed the broken bottle and yanked it from her hands. He hauled her close to him, and the slam of his body against her burned flesh had her screaming in agonized pain. He caught her hair and wrenched her head back. “I f**king hate vamps!”

Who didn’t? She bit her lip to hold back another cry.

“You’re a screamer. Ah, I like that.” His claws slipped down her cheek. “Before we’re done, I’ll make sure you scream plenty.”

Her own claws were lengthening as the rage and fear built. Her fangs burned and if she had the chance, she’d—

“What ?” He wrenched back her head. “You want my throat?”

Yes.

“You wanted it that night in Mexico, too, didn’t you?”

She’d wanted blood. “Not like …” she gritted, “I can stop the thirst.”

His brows lowered at that. “No, I don’t guess you can.” He shrugged. “You still smell fresh, not like the decomposing piles of shit vamps usually are.”

Well, great for her.

“Didn’t introduce myself formally before,” he murmured and finally lifted those rip-me-open claws away from her. “Name’s Carlos Guerro.”

“I don’t care who you are!”

“No, you never did. That was part of the problem.” The faint lines around his eyes tightened. “You just wanted to drain me.”

She swallowed. The pain was making her nauseous and the throbs from the blisters wouldn’t stop. “He’ll be back,” she whispered. Keenan hadn’t deserted her. She’d seen the fierce rage in him. He’d gone after the hunters, but he’d be back.

“Good.” His smile flashed once more. “I’m rather counting on that, querida.”

Keenan’s entire focus centered on the hunter, Mike. Keenan’s motorcycle sped up as the bike ate up the road. He drove faster, faster.

As the group roared down the road, two of the men lost control of their bikes. They crashed and their bikes slid right off the road.

Mike didn’t slow at the crash. Just revved his engine, and drove faster.

Not fast enough.

Keenan had the bastard’s scent. Fear and fury and fire. Mike wouldn’t get away.

Keenan could still see Nicole’s tears.

His front wheel pushed into Mike’s bike. With a scream of metal, the hunter’s motorcycle flipped, sending that jerk flying through the air.

Mike’s two surviving men kept racing away. Keenan didn’t go after them. He’d get to them later.

The fire of his vision centered only on Mike, only on the man who was scrambling across the road, moving like a crab and laughing as blood poured from his nose.

“B-bitch is dead!”

Keenan’s fists were at his sides. “She didn’t plan to kill your brother. Another vampire forced her to attack him.” If this Mike was really a vampire hunter, he would know all about mind control and compulsions.

Mike lifted his gun. Aimed and fired.

The bullet never broke Keenan’s skin.

“What the f**k?”

“She gave you the chance to walk away.” Everything around him was red. The fury nearly blinded him. “Then you came back, and you burned her.” He shook his head. “It’s ending. You’re not hurting her again, you’re not—”

Mike’s laughter stopped him.

“Left … her …” Mike spat blood and what looked like a tooth onto the ground. “Fool … did just what he … said.”

The wind seemed to chill. “Who? Who said?”

More laughter. “Left her … dead before you get back.”

No, her attackers had been gone. She’d still been conscious, and he’d stopped the fire. She’d said …

I-I’m okay.

The breath burned in his lungs.

She’d been alive and … he’d left her. The fury had been so strong and the need to punish driving him—

To kill.

“Bitch will … s-suffer.”

His breath heaving out, Keenan stalked across the road. “No, she won’t.”

“She is!” Mike’s wild laughter tossed on the wind that shouldn’t be there. “She’s … sufferin’ now.” His lips were curved wide, showing that bloody grin. “Justice.”

Keenan shook his head. Bull. No one was left to hurt Nicole. She was—

“He said you’d … leave her.”

“He?” Get back to Nicole. The whisper filled in his mind and had his body tensing.

“He’ll kill her.” Mike’s laughter choked in his chest. “When you find … her … Vamp will be ripped open—”

Keenan lunged forward and grabbed Mike, yanking him up. “Who? Who’s after—”

Mike’s eyes widened. His breath rasped. Pain and fear tightened his face. “W-wings …”

And he died.

He died.

Keenan stared down at his hands. Hands that had grabbed Mike.

One touch.

Death.

Keenan’s hands lifted. Mike’s body dropped to the ground, as hard as stone. Frozen in death.

Sam had been right. All the powers were coming back, and he’d just gotten the power he’d dreaded the most.

“No.” Keenan stumbled back and then stared up at the perfect blue sky. “No!”

If his touch could kill, then he couldn’t touch Nicole again. Couldn’t—

Vamp will be … ripped open—

He couldn’t let her die. Keenan shoved back the rage and trapped it deep inside his body. He spun and ran back for the motorcycle. He’d stop whoever was after Nicole, stop him, kill him—with a touch.

Because the angel of death was back.

He could almost feel the beat of his wings as he raced down the highway.

When Sam came upon the battered motorcycles on the old highway, he smiled.

And knew that his plan was working.

He braked his truck—he rather enjoyed that truck—and climbed out to survey the wreckage. Two men, still alive. Groaning and twitching on the ground. One man …

Sam walked closer, his booted feet thudding on the concrete.

One dead.

Sam’s head cocked as he crouched and studied the body. Big Mike. A semi-legend in vampire-killing circles. Mike and his brother Jeff had followed the motto that the only good vamp was a dead one. So they’d staked every vamp they could find.