Angel in Chains (The Fallen 3)

During Mardi Gras, no one ever slept in this city.

“D-dumb . . . bastard . . .” It was the shifter who’d held the woman moments before. He spat blood on the ground and tried to rise. Failed. Since Az had broken both of his legs, the guy would need to shift in order to heal. Az figured he had a few more moments before the man had enough strength to shift.

Before any of them did.

And he and his human would be long gone by then. Tightening his arms around her, he stepped over the broken bodies once more and ignored the growled curses that filled the air.

As he left the alley, he tossed one last stare back at the shifters. “Come after me, and you’ll only find death.” He felt it was only fair to warn them. If they chose to ignore his helpful warning . . .

Then they could meet death.

The rage in their already glowing eyes had another smile lifting his lips. You’ll come for me. So be it. He turned and stalked into the waning night with his human.

She was soft in his arms, a lightweight. Did she know how lucky she’d been? Probably not. In his experience, most humans were completely oblivious to the dangers that surrounded them.

The majority of humans roaming the earth didn’t even know about the existence of the Other, all of the paranormal creatures that often walked right beside mortals. Demons, vampires, djinn—all of the so-called monsters were real.

Humans just didn’t realize that fact.

The woman he held was a human who’d survived a pack shifter attack. He figured the odds of that survival were usually about a million to one.

Of course, those odds changed considerably when a Fallen became involved.

Few creatures on this earth were stronger than he was.

He snaked through the streets, turning left, right, and no one he passed so much as blinked in surprise at the sight of an unconscious, bloody woman in his arms.

Mardi Gras.

He’d just reached the steps of his apartment in the Quarter when an animal’s roar reached him. The loud, ferocious cry of a big cat.

Az stilled. The men had shifted faster than he expected.

He hurried inside his apartment and kicked the door closed behind him. Then he carried her to the couch. The woman’s eyes were still closed when he placed her on the cushions and a faint moan slipped from her lips as he eased her out of his arms.

Az stepped back and stared down at her. Pretty, he supposed. She had delicate, almost innocent features that were belied by the plump fullness of her mouth. His gaze tracked down her body. Humans were obsessed with sex. He’d always known that, so he supposed human males would be pleased with the woman’s curving body and long, long legs. He was—

Pleased as well.

Az blinked. What the—

Her eyes opened. No innocence. Big, dark green and so deep Az took one look into her eyes and thought of tangled sheets, naked flesh, and the pleasures that humans took in the dark.

I want pleasure.

Her brow furrowed as she stared up at him. Then he saw understanding come flooding back to her in an instant. She jumped up and let out an ear-splitting shriek.

When she went to run by him, Az just stepped out of her way. If she wanted to race right back to the pack . . . “It will just be your funeral,” he said, shrugging. He’d done his good deed for the century.

His bored tone stopped her. She glanced back over her shoulder at him and blinked.

“They’re probably hunting you now.” He walked away from her and headed toward the window that looked out over the street. “Hunting us,” he added quietly and realized he was anticipating the fight. When had he come to crave the fury? When had the bloodlust grown so within him?

She stood as still as a statue before his door. Her hand was up, hovering above the doorknob, and he could almost feel the fear rolling off her in waves.

But then she took a deep breath, and he saw her small shoulders straighten. She shoved back the heavy tangle of her hair and turned to face him. “How did you get us away from them?”

Az shrugged once more.

She took a step toward him. “You . . . you know what they are, right?”

Amusement flared in him. “I did notice the claws.” Rather hard to miss those.

She blinked, and her eyes narrowed as she studied him. He’d never seen quite that shade of green before. She crept closer, bringing that light scent of strawberries to him. When she stopped, she was less than a foot away from him. It would be so easy to touch her.

Though he knew well just how dangerous a touch could be.

Yet she stood close enough to kiss. But angels weren’t supposed to kiss mortals . . .

You’re not an angel anymore. The whisper came from deep inside of him. The same tempting whisper that he’d been fighting since his fall.

You’re not an angel. Do what you want.

You’re not an angel. Take what you want.

He was discovering that he could want many things.

The top of the woman’s head barely reached his shoulders. She tilted her head and stared up at him. Then her gaze swept down his body.

Az stiffened even before she whispered, “What are you?”

Rather insulting question. “I’m the man who saved your life.” Did she need to know more? He didn’t think so.

Her hand lifted and pressed against her mouth. A small trace of blood still rested near her lips. “There were three of them, and, you’re big and all, but there’s still just one of you.”

She might just be one of the most ungrateful humans he’d ever encountered. Stifling a sigh, Az inclined his head. “You’re welcome.”

She stared in surprise for a moment. Then she laughed. A soft, strangely lyrical sound spilled from her lips, and her wide smile lit up her face.

Not just pretty.

Az tensed as the wave of need hit him. Not lust for blood or death. This time . . . the lust was just for her.

You’re not an angel anymore. Take what you want.

“Yeah,” she said, as her laughter faded but the smile still lingered on her lips, “thanks for saving my ass.” Then she held out her hand to him. “My name’s Jade. Jade Pierce.”

He stared at her hand. She wiggled her fingers at him. Slowly, Az lifted his own hand and caught those wiggling fingers. Soft. “I am Azrael.” He dropped her hand. He hadn’t used the name Azrael in centuries. “Most just call me Az.”

“Well, Az, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her gaze slid over his body again. “But I’m gonna have to ask, once more, just what are—”

The door crashed in behind her. She didn’t scream this time, but maybe Az just didn’t give her a chance to scream.