Angel Betrayed (The Fallen 2)

His stare measured her.

“Are there more Fallen in the city?” Seline didn’t know of any, but maybe Sam did. The guy knew everything about the Other in New Orleans. “If there are, I think—I think Az will go after them.”

Sam’s stare still locked on her, and she realized that, yes, he knew about more Fallen. He just didn’t know if he could tell her about them. Anger whipped through her blood. “Dammit, Sam, trust, remember? I’m not asking because I want to hurt them! I want to help them. If we can get to the Fallen before Az does, we can stop him.” Didn’t he see that this was their chance?

“We can kill him.”

Seline nodded.

His head tilted to the right as he studied her. “There is one more Fallen in New Orleans.”

Her heart started a double-time beat. “Where is he?” But she was already heading for the door as she tossed out the question. “Let’s get to him, now.”

“Not him,” Sam muttered. “Her.”

Anthea’s head lifted slowly, and she stared at the man who walked before her. Her husband was dead. His eyes—green and empty—would haunt her forever.

“Why?” The one question was torn from her. “Ron never hurt anyone. He wasn’t meant to die yet, he wasn’t—”

“You weren’t meant to be with him.” Cold, callous, and the words fanned the rage that was slowly splintering her apart.

“He was the only one I was meant to have!” The pain, the burn, the fall . . . everything had been for him.

“You had a duty. Angels serve.” His eyes were arctic. “They don’t fall.”

She had to force her hands away from Ron. Not there anymore. His body remained, but his soul was gone. Ron had been a good man. Loyal. True. He would have paradise waiting for him.

“If angels fall,” the bastard continued, “hell waits.”

She rose to her feet.

“Was he worth it?” He cast a dismissive glance at Ron. “Everything you could’ve had—was he truly worth the sacrifice ?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “He was worth everything.” And she attacked.

The low growl reached her ears too late, and Anthea realized that he’d just been baiting her. Setting the trap, distracting her . . .

This time, her scream held as much fear as rage.

The beast leapt for her, and his razor-sharp claws went straight for her heart.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The motorcycle roared down the highway, zipping in and out of the line of cars. Seline’s arms curled around Sam, and, with every mile that the bike ate, he cursed beneath his breath.

Anthea hadn’t answered her phone. Not her cell. Not her home line.

She was the only other Fallen in the city right then. Keenan, a Fallen that Az had mistakenly tangled with before, had headed to Mexico with his little vamp. To be safe, Sam had put in a fast call to Keenan and warned the guy to watch his ass.

But Keenan always did.

Anthea . . . sweet, gentle . . . she never saw the threats in the world. Not until it was too late.

He spun the bike into the quiet neighborhood that Anthea had used as a refuge. Small flowers waited near the entrance, swaying lightly in the breeze, welcoming the home owners and their guests. He’d been to Anthea’s home only once. He’d come to make certain she was safe, but she hadn’t wanted his protection.

She’d just wanted the human who was at her side. A man she called husband, and a man that Sam strongly suspected had no real clue about his wife’s past.

Fell for love.

Anthea hadn’t been the first to lose her heart to a human. She wouldn’t be the last.

Her tidy brick home waited at the end of the street. More flowers surrounded the sides of her house.

And her car waited in the driveway. Her car—and a black Jeep.

The husband’s vehicle.

Sam had done his research before he’d slid out of Anthea’s life. Ron, her husband, had checked out. A doting human who was crazy for his beautiful wife.

Sam killed the engine and leapt off the motorcycle. Seline hurried behind him, or tried to. He threw out an arm to block her. “Let me check first.” Because he knew what he could find, and he didn’t want her to walk inside another blood-soaked room.

“No.” Her chin came up. “I can handle this.”

She wasn’t as heartless as she wanted to pretend. Blood affected her too much. Strange for a demon.

“Besides, the last time you left me . . .” Seline threw a quick glance over her shoulder toward the line of perfect houses on the opposite side of the street. Perfect houses, perfect human world. “Your brother jumped me. From now on, where you go, I go.”

His jaw clenched, but she had a point. Az could be close by, and Sam wouldn’t risk Seline again. He caught her hand and hurried forward.

The door was locked. He lifted his left fist, ready to blast it right open.

“No!” Seline frowned at him. “What if they’re just inside, having coffee or something? We can’t burst in there!”

But then he heard a faint sound. Not a moan, more of a gasp. One filled with pain.

Seline’s eyes widened. She’d heard it, too. “Bust that door down!”

The door shattered, and he ran inside. The stench hit him like a punch. Fresh blood and death.

The gasp came again, even weaker now, and he leapt across the room. Blood pooled on the floor, deep and dark, and it spread beneath Anthea’s body.

Her chest was open, the blood gushing out. Her dark eyes were wide and filled with pain. Tears leaked down her cheeks even as blood dripped from her mouth.

And her heart was gone.

She should have been dead—she would be dead, soon. There was no way she could survive. She was in agony, fighting to keep going, able to manage these last moments only because of her angel blood.

“Anthea.” He said her name with fury. Pay. Bastard would pay.

She didn’t look at him. Those wide-open eyes were to the left. Sam followed her stare and saw Ron’s body.

“Oh, God,” Seline whispered.

God hadn’t done this.

He positioned his body between Anthea and Ron, forcing her to see him. He didn’t touch her, not yet. “Who did this?”

More tears. More blood.

“Sam, she’s suffering!” Seline grabbed him. “Help her.”

They both knew there was only one way to help her.

“Why is she still alive?” Seline whispered. “Why won’t she let go?”

Anthea’s wet lashes dipped a bit. Her gaze seemed to focus on Sam. Seemed to. “Hell . . .”