Holly stepped around the vamp, her jaw locked. Her full lips—painted red, Niol’s favorite color—pressed into a line. Ah, so the reporter wasn’t in the mood for—
The vamp touched her. Grabbed her arm. Then jerked her up against his chest.
Niol stilled and a hot rush of power and fury flooded through his body. Even as the floor began to tremble, he was storming across the room.
“Holly.” His voice cut through the music and the shrill voices and the fake laughs.
The vamp, skin drained of color, eyes sunken, craned his head toward him. “Oh, shit.” He shoved Holly aside.
She stumbled, just a moment, on her two-inch heels. “Nice, you jerk—”
The vampire bared his fangs at her and growled.
Holly’s jaw dropped. Then she swayed on those heels. Niol reached out a hand and snagged her wrist, a wrist that was too thin, catching her just before she fell.
Her stare held his.
Oh, yeah, the fear was there. Hiding behind the “don’t-give-a-damn” mask. Fear…and a helpless curiosity.
Humans, always so curious. Always wanting to know what lurked in the darkness around them.
And then, when they found out—running away in fear.
“She’s a reporter, André,” Niol murmured, and allowed his fingers to stroke over her pounding pulse. Already fast, the beat of her pulse began to race even more. “She’s not the prey you want.” Because she’s mine.
“Reporter?” The too-sharp teeth disappeared. “Thought you didn’t let their kind in here.”
Holly sucked in a sharp breath. She tried to yank her hand away from Niol. Tried, failed. She grunted, a sound that shouldn’t have been sexy but was, and turned her stare on the vampire. “It’s a public place, jerkoff. From the looks of things, all kinds get in here. Even the dead ones.”
“Undead.” André sniffed.
“Right.” She tugged her hand again. Niol tightened his hold. “Listen, buddy, you—”
The vamp’s lips peeled back, revealing teeth no human should see, unless the human was about to become a meal.
Reluctantly, Niol dropped Holly’s hand. Then he stepped forward, deliberately putting his body between Holly and the vamp. “Is there a problem here, André?”
The vamp was tall—big damn deal. He was taller. And the last time he’d been afraid of a vamp…well, he’d never been afraid of the fanged freaks.
André swallowed, and seemed to shrink a bit. “I-I just…” He licked his lips, a quick, nervous move. “Reporters can’t be here. Too risky, you know that, you know—”
Okay, the guy’s voice was getting too high, and two panther shifters at a nearby table were starting to look nervous. “She’s not your problem. Forget her.”
“Ah, she’s here.” Holly tapped on his back. “And getting more pissed by the minute.” Another insistent tap, right in the middle of his back.
André’s already beady eyes narrowed. The brief flash of fear gave way to anger. “Throw her out, Niol. You want the vamps to keep comin’, you throw that bitch out.”
The tapping stopped, and, because the vampire had raised his shrill-ass voice again, the nearby paranormals—because, generally, the folks who came in his bar were far, far from normal—stilled.
Niol shook his head slowly. “I think you’re forgetting a few things, vamp.” He gathered the black swell of power that pulsed just beneath his skin. Felt the surge of dark magic and—
The vamp flew across the bar, slamming into the stage with a scream. The lead guitarist swore, then jumped back, cradling his guitar with both hands like the precious baby he thought it was.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Niol motioned toward the bar. “Get me another drink, Marc.” He glanced at the slowly rising vampire. “Did I tell you to get up?” It barely took any effort to slam the bastard into the stage wall this time. Just a stray thought, really.
Ah, but power was a wonderful thing.
Sometimes, it was damn good to be a demon. And even better to be a level-ten, and the baddest asshole in the room.
He stalked forward. Enjoyed for a moment the way the crowd jumped away from him.
The vampire began to shake. Perfect.
Niol stopped a foot before the fallen André. “First,” he growled, “don’t ever, ever fucking tell me what to do in my bar again.”
A fast nod.
“Second…” His hands clenched into fists as he fought to rein in the magic blasting through him. The power…oh, but it was tempting. And so easy to use.
Too easy.
One more thought, just one, focused and hard, and he could have the vamp dead at his feet.
“Use too much, you’ll lose yourself.” An old warning. One that had come too late for him. He’d been twenty-five before he met another demon who even came close to him in power and that guy’s warning—well, it had been long overdue.
Niol knew he’d been one of the Lost for years.
The first time he’d killed, he’d been Lost.
“Second,” he repeated, his voice cold, clear, and cutting like a knife in the quiet. “If you think I give a damn about the vampires coming to my place…” His mouth hitched into a half-grin, but Niol knew no amusement would show in the darkness of his eyes. “Then you’re dead wrong, vampire.”
“S-sorry, Niol, I—”
He laughed. Then turned his back on the cringing vampire. “Thomas.” The guard he always kept close. “Throw that vamp’s ass out.”
When Thomas stepped forward, the squeal of a guitar ripped through the bar. And the dancing and the drinking and the mating games of the Other began with a fierce rumble of sound.
Niol’s gaze searched for his prey and he found Holly watching him. All eyes and red hair and lips that begged for his mouth. He strode toward her, conscious of covert stares still on them. He could show no weakness. Never could.
I’m not weak.
He was the strongest demon in Atlanta. He sure wasn’t going to give the paranormals any cause to start doubting his power.
His kind turned on the weak.
When he stopped before her, the scent of lavender flooded his nostrils.
She looked up at him. The human was small, to him anyway, barely reaching his shoulders so that he towered over her.
She was the weak one. All of her kind were.
Humans. So easy to wound. To kill.
He lifted his hand. Stroked her cheek. Damn, but she was soft. Leaning close, Niol told her, “Sweetheart, I warned you before about coming to my Paradise.”
There was no doubt others overheard his words. With so many shifters skulking around the joint, a whisper would have been overheard. Shifters and their annoyingly superior senses.
“Wh-what do you mean?” The question came, husky and soft. Ah, but he liked her voice. He could all too easily imagine that voice, whispering to him as they lay amid a tangle of sheets.
Or maybe screaming in his ear as she came.
He cupped her chin in his hand. A nice chin. Softly rounded. And those lips…the bottom was fuller than the top. Just a bit. So red. Her mouth was slightly parted, open.
Waiting.
She stepped back, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Niol—”
He stared down at her. “Yes, you do.” He caught her arms, wrapping his fingers around her and jerking Holly against him. “I told you, the last time you came into my bar…”
Her eyes widened. “Niol…”
Oh, yeah, he liked the way she said his name. She breathed it, tasted it.
His lips lowered toward hers. “If you want to walk in Paradise, baby, then you’re gonna have to play with the devil.”
“No, I—”
He kissed her. Hard. Deep. Niol drove his tongue right past those plump lips and took her mouth the way the beast inside him demanded.
She tasted like wine, and the more he sampled, the more he wanted.
His hold on her tightened. Her bre
asts crushed against him, and the tight peaks of her nipples stabbed into his chest.
His cock twitched, full and heavy with arousal—hell, he’d been hard since the moment Holly strolled into the bar.
His tongue met hers. Thrust. Took. When she moaned low in her throat, he pulled her closer against him.
Her mouth widened, letting him inside even more. Ah, yes, that was just what he—
She wrenched her head away from his. Her breath panted. Her mouth glistened.
He wanted more. Niol licked his lips, tasted her.
How long would it take to get her out of the dress? He bet he could take her into his office, have her naked and moaning in less than two minutes.
“Take your hands off me.” Bright spots of color stained her ivory cheeks. She swallowed. Once, twice. “I’m here to talk to you about Carl and—”
He dropped his hands. Too many ears and eyes in this place. “If you’re not here to fuck, Holly, then don’t waste my time.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
He almost smiled. Almost.
But he had an image to maintain.
And, because of the little reporter, an aching hard-on.
“Humans who come into Paradise know the rules. They either come to play,”—and the blond human in the booth to the left looked like she was having one hell of a time playing with her vampire—“or they come to be prey.” Simple enough.
Green eyes narrowed. “A man is dead, Niol. I want your help!”
He raised his hand. Snapped his fingers.
Her head jerked. “You didn’t just—”
Thomas, who’d returned from his little errand with the vamp, marched to his side. “Boss?”
Niol did let his lips curve now. It was just too much fun. Ah, but the reporter’s cheeks were such a lovely red. “Thomas, do me a favor…” A brief pause. He could feel the eyes and ears on him. He glanced toward Holly, allowed himself one last look at that tempting body, then ordered, “Throw her pretty ass out.”
Chapter 2
She’d had worse nights. Not many, thankfully, but a few.
Holly glared at the back of the building, because, of course, she hadn’t been escorted out the front of Paradise Found. No, while the vamp had at least been thrown out the front of the bar, the NBA reject had tossed her out the back door and into the alley with the stench from hell.
“Get lost, lady,” the bouncer ordered, pointing one thick finger toward the waiting darkness. “You won’t be warned again.” His face—scary, downright ugly—tightened.
Oh, right, because being thrown out like garbage was some kind of warning. “Tell Niol this isn’t over!” She shouted, even as the jerk began to swing the door closed. “I’m not going to disappear! I’m not—”
The door slammed shut.
“Talking to anyone,” she finished, then snarled in disgust.
Dammit. Why couldn’t Niol cut her some slack? The black-eyed bastard owed her. Hadn’t she kept her mouth shut about what she’d seen him do?
She spun around, and her gaze jerked helplessly down the alley.
Right there. She’d been standing right there and she’d seen Niol literally fry a man. The flames had been so hot. The breath of the fire had scorched her skin.
The bastard who’d died had been a murderer. A sick, twisted psycho who had planned to kill her. She hadn’t shed any tears over his death.
But she’d had more than a few nightmares.
And now she was back here. Back at what could have been the scene of her murder.
She took a few slow steps forward. In the dim light, she could just barely make out the scorch marks at the end of the alley.
No, she hadn’t shed any tears for the dead man.
But she also hadn’t taken her story live, either. She hadn’t blasted the truth about the killer—the fact that he was a demon, a powerful supernatural—into the homes of thousands of people.
Because after what she’d seen that terrible night, Holly knew that the world wasn’t ready for the truth yet.
Monsters are real.
Oh, yeah, they were real. Strong. Dangerous. Evil.
And scary as all hell.
She stopped at the edge of the black markings. The markings that were all that remained of a demon’s life.
So many monsters…Her hands clenched.
Some of them, like Carl, weren’t bad. Some were almost…normal. Just trying to get by in the big, too-cold world.
Living, as best they could, until the darkness struck them down.
Holly bent, the cold air of the night brushing against her. It was late spring, should have been warmer, but a cold blast was hitting the city.
Her fingers touched the rough pavement, and her nails scraped over the black lines.
He’d been in my head. He took my control away. Made me into a puppet. Even though she’d tried so hard to fight. At night, she could still feel the whispers of her fear.
She’d been so afraid. So sure that she was staring at death.
Was that how Carl had felt? Before he’d been gutted by—
A rustle of sound reached her ears. Soft. Like clothes, fabric brushing against the hard stone walls that all but surrounded her.
In an instant, Holly was on her feet, heart racing so hard the thudding filled her ears. She whirled around, searching the alley with narrowed eyes as she squinted to see in the darkness. “Who’s there?” Chill bumps were on her arms, but whether they were from the increasing cold of the air or the sudden fear that pumped through her, she didn’t know.
No one answered her call, and she licked her lips.
Not alone. She knew it, with every single fiber of her being.
Someone, or something, was in that alley with her. Watching from the too concealing darkness. Her instincts screamed for her to run. To get the hell out of there as fast as she could…
But she’d come to Paradise, such as it was, for a reason.
So she didn’t run. Just stood straighter.
“I know you’re there.” The air now felt strangely still against her. She took one step forward and hoped that she looked a lot more confident than she felt.
She hated this stinking alley. It scared her, made her realize just how vulnerable she was.
So why the hell are you standing here in the dark, when you know something’s watching you?
Her lungs ached as she drew in a deep breath. She’d lured more than her share of sources out of the shadows before. Faced down muggers. Crack-high kids. But this—
Someone watched.
This was different.
Okay, time to run like crazy. Forget dignity, she’d lost that back in the bar.
“Holly!”
The growl of her name had her choking back a startled scream. Jesus. Now she was turning back around, like a spinning top, as she jerked to face the mouth of the alley once more. A man stood waiting there, arms thrust deep into the pockets of his long, black coat.
Niol.
She was almost glad to see him.
Ah, screw that. Holly took off toward him, pretty much at a run.
She was damn glad to see the jerk.
Sometimes, the devil you knew was a hell of a lot better than the monster in the dark.
As she hurried toward him, she saw his dark gaze lift and sweep behind her. He seemed to stiffen.
“Niol, what—”
“Get in the car, Holly.”
She saw his black SUV then, idling near the corner. Tendrils of exhaust escaped from the back of the vehicle, drifting up into the night.
Since she’d taken a cab down to Paradise, and she really wasn’t feeling the urge to call and wait outside on the street for another one to arrive and pick her up, Holly decided to follow the snapped order.
But she couldn’t help glancing back over her shoulder, one more time.
Only shadows stared back at her from the depths of the alley.
Shadows and the memory of death.
He could sme
ll the woman. A sweet scent, light, rising over the decay and vermin of the alley.
For a moment, he’d been so close to her. Close enough to touch. To slide his fingers over her skin.
Close enough to rip that perfect porcelain skin right open.
The slam of a door echoed in the night. Then another. Tires squealed as the demon bastard drove away.
Taking the woman with him.
Interesting.
Niol had a taste for humans. He loved to play with the mortal women. And the immortal ones.
He and the demon had that pleasure in common.
A whistle escaped the man’s lips as he strolled from the darkness. He’d been waiting there, biding his time, when the redhead had literally been thrown into his path.
Sometimes, fate could be brilliant.
He stepped over the charred cement and his whistle became louder.
Such a nice night. Pity he’d already made his kill. It really would have been the perfect night for a slaughter.
Ah, well, perhaps it was time he found new prey.
“What the hell were you doing?” Niol demanded, his fingers tightening around the leather steering wheel. “Do you have some kind of death wish or something?”
“What? Look, buddy, you are the one who so kindly had me tossed into the alley. It’s not like I wanted to be there and—”
“You weren’t alone.” The words came from between clenched teeth.
“I was—” She broke off, gasping, and he felt the hot weight of her stare land on him. “How do you know that?”
He turned the wheel hard to the right and heard the harsh squeal of tires. “Hell, lady, have you forgotten what I am?” After his last demonstration, in that same pit-forsaken alley, she shouldn’t have forgotten any damn thing.
“Demon.” A breath of sound.
Niol nodded. Demon through the skin, through the blood, all the way to the core of his bones.
No, he wasn’t some pointy-tailed, horned, red freak who’d escaped from the depths of hell. Generally demons weren’t like that, though most folks, when they closed their eyes at night, sure pictured them as such.
His kind weren’t servants of the devil. So, okay, yeah, some had certainly chosen to walk on the trail of the damned, and he’d more than danced on the dark side a few times.