Avenging Angel (The Fallen 4)

He could touch her all that he wanted. That was the way the game worked with angels. But the instant her hand touched him . . .

Dead.

If she wanted him dead, all she had to do was touch him, and she could send him straight to hell.

She smiled at him. The smile made her seem even lovelier, and then the angel said, “When I’m stronger, when I’m free . . . get as far away from me as you can.” The faintest of pauses, then, “Because I’ll have my vengeance.”

She didn’t look so broken anymore.

“Remember . . . to run, shifter.”

He didn’t move, and he damn well kept touching her. “I’m not the running kind.” Not anymore. The scared kid he’d been had died long ago. Now he fought any bastard who came his way, and he made sure to win his battles.

His angel kept her cold smile and told him, “Wait and see.... You will be. . . .”

CHAPTER ONE

Two months later

A girl knew when she was being stalked.

Marna didn’t glance over her shoulder as she made her way through the bar. What would have been the point? She felt his eyes on her. Knew he was there.

Sometimes, it seemed that he was always there.

Bodies brushed against her as she wound through the crowd. Marna didn’t recoil as she’d done when she first lost her wings. She’d grown used to the touches over the last few weeks.

Music blasted out in a steady beat from the speakers that hung near the ceiling. The place was packed, filled with men and women drunk on a powerful combination of alcohol and lust. The too-loud club shouldn’t have been her kind of place.

It was.

She made it to the bar and lightly tapped her fingers against the glass counter. Then she let her gaze lift to the mirror that waited behind that bar.

In that shining surface, she saw him perfectly.

Tall, strong, with wide shoulders and muscled arms, her watcher easily cleared a path through the dancers. Maybe it was the harsh intensity of his face that made folks step back. The man stalking so purposefully toward her wasn’t handsome, not really. His features were too hard, too stark.

But...

But there was something about the high arch of his cheeks, the square cut of his jaw and the sensual curve of his lips. With that thick mass of dark hair that skimmed his shoulders, Marna supposed that some human women might find him attractive. Even sexy. Humans always seemed to think the dangerous ones were sexy.

Good thing she wasn’t human.

His eyes, dark green and burning with a quiet fury, were on hers in that mirror. She almost smiled at him. Instead, she lifted her drink and sipped it lightly.

What did the big, bad shifter want now? She’d tried to play it nice. She’d told him to stay away. She’d given the guy fair warning, but . . .

“What in the hell have you done?”

Tanner Chance closed in on her. His voice had been pitched low, so that only she could hear him, and the guy’s body curved around hers.

He didn’t touch her, not yet, but only a few inches separated them.

She turned her head and felt the whisper of his breath on her cheek. For some reason, Marna shivered.

“You didn’t have to do it,” he gritted and, oh, yes, that was most definitely fury burning in his gaze. He’d better be careful. Too much fury wasn’t good for the beast that he carried inside. “You could have just lived your life. Could have just gone on—”

A laugh slipped from her, but the sound was bitter. “What life?” Her life had been clawed away from her. There was no heaven for her, not anymore. Just hell on earth. Feelings, emotions, needs—they seemed to constantly swamp her now, and they were driving her crazy.

No one had warned her about the hungers . . . for food, drink . . . pleasure.

Men.

Without the magic from her wings, every human need and emotion slammed into her, and each day, Marna felt she was losing a bit more of herself.

And I used to wonder what it would be like to be human.

What she wouldn’t give to be ignorant again. To just . . . not know.

He leaned in closer to her. Still not touching, but every part of her was hyper aware of him.

“Others know what you did,” Tanner said.

Marna blinked, lost. “Uh, good?” Because she didn’t know. Had no clue what the guy was rambling about now. But . . . he smelled good. Not like the others in that place. He didn’t reek of stale beer or too much cheap cologne. He smelled—

“They know you killed those men.”

Whoa. Back up. She hadn’t killed anyone.

His eyes narrowed, the faint lines tightening on his face. “You left their bodies in the alley. What did you think would happen? That no one would find out what you were doing?”

Another laugh came from her as she turned away. “I have no idea what you’re—”

His fingers closed around her shoulder.

Marna stilled. “You know better.” He did. The guy had a pretty thorough knowledge of angels, so he understood just how dangerous her kind could be. She’d gone out of her way to warn Tanner off. Seeing him reminded her too much of what she’d lost. Because of—

“Why am I still breathing?” His other hand rose and pulled her off the bar stool and up against him. “If you want me dead, then why am I still standing?”

His body was so hot and hard against hers. Her heartbeat kicked faster in her chest. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him because the guy was really just huge. His hands seemed to burn right through her clothes, their weight a heavy touch that made her feel strangely restless.

His gaze searched hers. “Why?”

She brought her hands up between them. Placed her palms right over his chest, smiled and—

“We got a problem here?” the bartender demanded as he slapped his hands down on the counter.

Tanner didn’t turn his way. “Mind your own business.”

Didn’t he sound all tough and deadly? Didn’t he look that way, too? In his faded jeans, in that black T-shirt that pulled across his muscled chest, with his dark hair mussed and that jaw clenched . . . he looked like he could kick the ass of any fool dumb enough to get in his way.

Marna wasn’t a fool.

She also wasn’t weak.

She spared a glance for the bartender. About six-three, way over two hundred pounds, and sporting fists that would probably make most men tremble in fear. “I’m okay.” She had this.

The bartender’s eyes narrowed and clearly showed his doubt. “You sure, honey? ’Cause I can—”

Tanner swore and stepped away from her. Ah, giving up already? But then he shoved his hand inside his back pocket and yanked out some kind of wallet. He flashed his ID and snarled, “Police, ass**le. Now step the hell back.”