Avenging Angel

  The leash tore in two. He exploded within her and erupted on a wave of pleasure so intense that the world around him seemed to fade away, and there was only her—Marna.

  Her soft, silken flesh.

  Her tight, wet sex.

  The pleasure she gave him. Nothing like it. Definitely worth a trip or two down to hell.

  Worth everything.

  He poured into her, held her as tightly as he could and knew that even death wouldn’t force him to let her go.

  “I can see your wings.”

  Marna forced her body to lift, and slowly turned to meet Tanner’s bright gaze. His words caused a pang in her heart, and she shook her head. “I don’t have wings anymore.” It seemed so cruel that he would say that now, after all that had happened between them.

  If only she did have wings.

  He was on his side, watching her as they lay on the bed. His hand reached around her and stroked lightly from the scar on her right shoulder up into the air just a few inches above her skin.

  As before, his touch sent a bolt of pure pleasure arching through her. So sensitive. She could almost feel his touch on the wings that weren’t there.

  “I see them. Like shadows, rising lightly from your back.” His voice was a deep rumble of sound. He stroked her for an instant longer, and her whole body tightened at the caress.

  How?

  But then his hand fell away. His gaze came back to hers. “You shouldn’t have given me your blood.”

  Her throat was dry. Probably from all the screaming and panting and moaning. How was she supposed to face Cody again? He would’ve heard everything.

  Shame was a new emotion for her, too.

  But she didn’t feel that shameful. Actually, she couldn’t wait to scream again.

  “Marna.”

  Oh, right. He was talking about her blood. “It seems like everyone else wants my blood.” Everyone but him. “Everywhere we turn, people are hunting us.” Not us, really, more her. And she’d dragged him into her battles.

  “No one else gets so much as a drop.” His gaze held hers with its stark intensity. “No vamps. No demons. No one.”

  It wasn’t exactly like she enjoyed being a walking, talking blood bank. But somehow, the supernaturals knew that she wasn’t like the other angels of death. She couldn’t kill them with a touch, not like Sammael could. No one ever went after him looking for a blood donation. They were too smart for that move.

  They knew that if they went after Sammael, he’d destroy them.

  Why couldn’t she get a badass reputation like that?

  Maybe because you aren’t badass. A whisper from her mind. But she was trying to be. She would be. Getting picked off and drained wasn’t an option for her. She wanted more. She’d fight for her life.

  And for Tanner.

  “Your blood’s addictive. Nothing should taste so sweet.”

  Okay, now that was scary. No one had ever told her that an angel’s blood was sweet.

  “Like candy and power. And you can’t let anyone have it again. If you do . . .” He exhaled on a rough sigh. “I’ll have to kill them.”

  So, what, there was no in-between land? Just straight up go for the kill? Wasn’t the shifter missing a big point there? “You know, you could try saying thank you. In case you didn’t notice, my ‘candy and power’ blood saved your hide back there.” Then she rolled away from him, pulling the sheets with her and wrapping them around her body.

  Oh, wait. Angel. Maybe she couldn’t kill, but she could still conjure clothes. She dropped the sheet, waved her hand and had jeans and a T-shirt back on in an instant. Then Marna headed for the door.

  Before she could yank it open and continue what was really a rather nice stalking-out scene, Tanner’s hand slammed against the wood. His grip kept the door shut while caging her between the escape and his body. His naked body. If only shifters could conjure, too.

  “Thank you.” He whispered the words against her ear and a shiver worked over her body.

  “You’re . . . ah . . . welcome.”

  His voice hadn’t been arrogant or cocky. Just soft. Sincere.

  Slowly, carefully, Tanner turned her to face him. “Power is addictive.”

  So she’d always been told.

  “My father . . . that bastard wanted to take as much power as he could get. He didn’t care who he hurt. He took and he took until nothing was left.”

  Marna didn’t speak.

  “That’s what he did to my mother.” He exhaled heavily and moved away from her. She watched in silence as he found his jeans, jerked them on, then paced to the small window that overlooked the swamp. “She was just part of his collection.”

  “Collection?” She didn’t understand. People weren’t collections. They were . . . people.

  His shoulders tensed. “He wanted to create the perfect son. One who’d be near indestructible, all powerful, and able to rule for as far as that dead old bastard could see.”

  Marna wanted to go to him because she could hear the thread of pain in his voice, but she didn’t move.

  “You already know about Brandt.”

  Like she could forget the shifter who’d sliced her and left her screaming in pain. Tanner’s brother Brandt had been a dangerous hybrid. Half shifter, half angel.

  “Brandt’s mother was a guardian, and some dumbass upstairs gave her the job of watching after my father.”

  Many of her kind thought the guardians were the lucky ones. They never had to ferry souls. Just watch. Protect.

  But guardians were the ones most likely to choose falling. They were so close to humans, day in and day out. Proximity led to temptation. That temptation had been too much for many.

  Like Brandt’s mom.

  “He got her pregnant because he thought a child with an angel’s strength would be his perfect weapon. But after he had Brandt, he didn’t need her anymore.”

  She already knew how this story ended. “He killed her.”

  “Just like he killed my mom. Only . . .” His hand lifted, pressed against the pane of glass, then clenched into a fist. “He killed my mom because she was ‘a disappointment,’ ” he said, his voice deepening to a growl. “ ‘A waste of time.’ Those were his fucking words to me when I found her body. He kept her around longer than he did Brandt’s mother, but after a while, he said her powers were useless to him. That meant she was useless.”

  An ache lodged in her chest. “Humans don’t have powers.”

  Tanner glanced back at her. “Some do. My mom, Katherine, she was . . . special.”

  Special. Psychic. Yes, she’d seen a handful of humans with those gifts. The other angels had said those mortals were touched. Favored.

  To her, it had seemed as if they were cursed.

  “My father destroyed things. My mother saved them. She was always trying to help everyone. Trying to save those jerks in the pack when they got injured. When they were hurt, she’d use her power, and she’d heal them. She could heal, just by touching someone. That was her special gift.” His lips tightened. “She never should have been with him. She was just part of his collection.”

  A collection of women designed to create super children? Marna shook her head, still not fully understanding, then realized he couldn’t see the movement. “I thought it was supposed to be hard for shifters to have children.” Otherwise, the world would be overrun with them because their genetics made them far superior to average mortals. Survival of the fittest would kick into overdrive, and the human population would be nearly erased.

  His hand slowly unclenched. “Some women are . . . better matches than others.”

  Mates. Not some heart link, no matter what tales she’d heard whispered over the centuries. For shifters, mating was a biological link. The beasts recognized the women who would be compatible enough to create offspring with them.

  Tanner turned to face her. “Trust me, there were plenty of women who couldn’t conceive. He got rid of them fast enough.”

  Marna flinched
. Evil. There was no other word for Tanner’s father. She’d seen some beings like him in her time. No good inside. Hollow. Rancid. Rotting with their greed and dark fury.

  “Three women were matches for him,” Tanner said. “An angel. A psychic. And a demon.”

  Marna stepped toward him. She wanted to touch him. To offer comfort in some way because he seemed to be in pain. Not physically, but . . .

  I can still feel his pain.

  “Then once my father had his hybrids, he set to work making sure we wouldn’t be a damn bit like our mothers. He wanted any power boost his kids could get from such different mothers, but when it came to actions, hell, he only wanted us to be just like him.”

  Now she did go to him. Marna crossed to his side, and her hands curled around his arms. “But you’re not like him.”

  “Brandt was. My brother was exactly like him. He enjoyed the pain and the rage as much as my old man ever did.”

  She wanted to shake him. So she did. Hard. He barely moved. “You’re not like them!”

  His head sagged forward. She needed to see his eyes.

  “Tanner!” Marna snapped out his name. “You’re not like them!” He’d protected her. Helped her. How could he think that he’d ever be like his father or Brandt?

  “Didn’t you see me in the swamp?” he demanded. “I enjoyed those kills.”

  Her skin seemed to ice.

  His head lifted. His eyes finally met hers, and there was a chill in his stare. “Baby, I’m my father’s son.”

  No.

  “I didn’t want to be. I tried so hard not to be, but deep down, I have the same rage. The same violence. I’m—” He stopped, but she knew what he’d been about to say.

  I’m like him.

  She leaned onto her toes in an attempt to get as close to him as she could. She wanted the shifter to understand this. “What you are . . .” Her gaze searched his. “You’re better than him.”

  And she thought his father had known that. He’d beaten his boys, attacked them from the time they were only children. He’d tried to force them to become like him.

  Tanner wasn’t.

  Neither was Cody.

  As for Brandt, the bastard who’d hurt her . . . were monsters born the way they were? Or were they made?

  Voice dark, Tanner said, “You shouldn’t touch me. And you damn well shouldn’t let me touch you.”

  He was trying to be all noble. Fine. The guy was always trying to pull the noble knight card. She’d be the lusty one for a change. Marna caught his face in her hands, gripping that strong, square jaw she loved, and she pulled him down for a kiss. Her tongue licked over his lips, then darted inside to rub against his. “I know,” she said against his mouth, “exactly what I should do.”

  She was done letting others tell her what was right, wrong, and everything in between.

  Tanner’s eyes seemed dazed, but he gave a slight shake of his head and said, “Don’t you know how dangerous it is . . . to make me want you so much?”

  No, but then, Marna was learning that she liked a bit of danger. Danger had pretty much become her life, and the adrenaline rush had her body on a taut edge.

  Tanner sucked in a deep breath. “I can always taste you now.”

  She licked her lips and tasted him.

  His gaze seemed to burn her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he promised.

  She smiled at him, but knew the curve of her lips was sad. “Every supernatural in this town is after me. They think I’m weak.” How did they know? How had they realized the truth?

  Then it hit her.

  The bar. The panther shifters. She’d gone there that night and she’d tried to kill them. Her touch hadn’t worked. “Someone was there,” she whispered as understanding settled heavily in her chest like a cold knot of dread. “Another supernatural.” Her eyes widened. The man who’d been setting her up, he could have been right there that night!

  Only when she’d failed, he’d finished what she’d started. He’d taken out the two panthers.

  Frowning, Tanner asked, “What are you talking about?”

  But she knew now, and her heart was starting to race. “All of the paranormals coming after me . . . they all know I can’t kill with a touch.”

  A grim nod. “They think you’re an easy target.”

  She wasn’t going to be. “One of them must have been in that bar when I went after Michael and Beau that night. Someone saw me try to kill them—and fail.” She shoved back her hair. “That someone could be the same person setting me up for these kills.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Or he could just be the prick who’s setting you up to get eaten by the supernaturals in town.” He headed for the door. “Either way, we’re finding him.”

  Yes, yes, they were. Marna hurried after him. They rushed down the stairs and entered the small den just in time to see Cody stroll into the room, a bloody cloth held to his throat. He looked first at Tanner, then her, then back to Tanner. One dark brow rose. “Done are we? No more screaming and shouting? Gotta say, I’m impressed, but for a minute there, I was afraid the ceiling would fall on—”

  Tanner sprang at him. He leapt across the room and shoved his brother against the wall. “Only living family or not, you don’t talk about her that way.”

  Cody didn’t look particularly intimidated. He knocked his brother back. “I wasn’t talking about her. I was . . . just talking about how . . . enthusiastic you seemed.”

  Tanner slugged him while Marna felt her cheeks burn.

  But Cody just laughed.

  We like the pain and the violence.

  She crept down the last few stairs and rubbed her arms. Tanner was wrong. Yes, she’d been the one to originally think he was just like Brandt, but that had been before. Everything was different now.

  No, not everything. Me.

  Tanner eased away from his brother. “Now that we aren’t fighting for our lives, you wanna tell me just what that hell in the swamp was all about? Why’d you burn your own place down?”

  Cody rubbed his jaw. “I knew Jillian was coming after me.”

  “How?” Tanner asked. “And why the hell didn’t you tell me? If you knew I was working for a dirty cop, you should have passed that critical intel along.”

  Marna’s fingers pressed against the wooden banister as she waited for Cody’s response.

  “Jillian knew I’d helped you to make her”—a quick finger jab toward Marna—“disappear. The word I got was that Jillian was gonna force me to tell her where Marna had gone.”

  Interesting. It seemed the captain had learned a lot about her, very, very fast.

  But Tanner shook his head. “You’re lying,” Tanner said, sounding surprised. “To me.”

  Cody swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. Had he flinched? Yes, it looked like he had. Now his eyes were darting nervously around the room. Liar, liar.

  Marna cocked her head to the side and wondered how Tanner had known. Lies. What would it be like to tell them? Some people could lie so easily, but for others, you could always read the lies on their faces.

  At that moment, Cody’s lie was clear to see.

  “Are you using again?” Tanner demanded.

  Using? Suspicion snaked through her, and that suspicion was confirmed when Cody started to sweat.

  He told Tanner, “No. I don’t do that. Haven’t in years.”

  She realized he was talking about drugs. After all, she knew all about the addictive mix that was demons and drugs. Many demons used the drugs to dampen their darker impulses but only learned, too late, that the drugs made them worse.

  And no one could grow addicted as fast as a demon.

  “You’re keeping secrets,” Tanner said, with a sad shake of his head. “Those will come back to bite you in the ass.”

  Cody stalked a few feet away from him. The bloody cloth had fallen to the floor. His throat had healed, mostly. Jaw clenched, he met Tanner’s gaze. “I . . . sold angel blood.”

  Now Marna was the on
e to leap forward. “You did what?”

  He wet his lips and stared at the floor before seeming to force his stare to rise. “A few months ago, when I had to run that transfusion from Azrael . . .”

  Marna’s knees locked at the name. Azrael was one of the most powerful angels of death she’d ever met. Well, he had been that way, until his fall. Then he’d become something even more dangerous.

  Not like me. Everyone knew to stay away from Azrael, or he’d obliterate them.

  Why couldn’t she just have some of that power? The torching was nice, but she needed more magic in order to keep breathing.

  “Azrael gave his blood in order to save his human.” Tanner’s voice was flat. “I was there, it was a fast transfusion. There was no choice.”

  Azrael’s human. The female that Brandt had claimed as his mate. Only Az had taken her from him, and Az had been the one to send Brandt to hell.

  She owed the powerful Fallen for that. It should have been my kill.

  Az had just beaten her to the punch.

  “There was some . . . extra blood.” Now shame coated Cody’s words. “I knew how powerful it was, and I couldn’t just destroy it.”

  So he’d started selling the blood of her kind? “Do you know what Azrael will do to you,” Marna asked quietly, “when he realizes what you’ve done?”

  A faint nod. Then a laugh that was desperate before he said, “Why do you think I was burning my place and trying to run? I want out of this town before he comes gunning for me.”

  “There’s nowhere to hide from him.” Marna voiced the simple truth that he should have already known. “Az can find you wherever you go.”

  Tanner’s fist slammed into the wall. “Dammit, you’re the one who has all the supernaturals in this town so hot for angel blood! You turned them on to its power!”

  Cody’s shoulders couldn’t hunch much more. “I—I was just trying to help. There was a demon. She was dying, and she was only eighteen. Just a kid. The drugs had eaten her up, and she couldn’t even move. I had to try something. Hell, I didn’t even mean to sell the blood!” His words tumbled out. “I swear, I was just trying to help. I wasn’t even sure it would work until . . .” He glanced at Marna from the corner of his eye.