Not good.
Her gaze swept the alley. “We’re not safe here.” Understatement of the century. She didn’t see anyone, but thanks to her vamp-enhanced hearing, could hear the slight shuffle of footsteps. Someone hunted here.
Of course, these days, someone hunted everywhere.
“ So ... damn ... hot.”
She jumped off the motorcycle and went to him. One touch and, oh yes, he was hot. Burning as if he had a fever. “You really haven’t ever conjured fire before?” She didn’t know how this whole creating fire thing worked.
He jerked his head in a no.
“Great. Okay.” She pulled him a little closer and let her gaze sweep down the alley once more. “I saw a little motel a few turns back.” One of those no-tell motels that charged by the hour. “We’ll hide out there, dunk you under a cold shower, and you’ll be fine in no time.” Maybe. He’d be fine or ...
He’d start burning everything around him.
Uh, oh. Right then, she was the closest thing to him.
That blue/black gaze bored into her. “You need to get away from me.”
Because he’d obviously had the same thought. If he couldn’t pull this power back, she’d be feeling the burn up close and personal. Like witches, vamps burned too fast.
Despite the rumors out there, vamps actually weren’t that hard to kill. An old-fashioned stake and a beheading worked. Bleeding out—yeah, that would give you a dead vamp, too. Or ... you could always let the flames take a vamp straight to hell. Trade one fire for another.
She swallowed. “You need me.” Because the guy seemed to be having trouble standing. He hadn’t left her when she was at her breaking point, and she wouldn’t leave him.
Unless the fire got too close.
Nicole pulled him back toward the motorcycle. She climbed on first. “Just ... put your arms around me. Hold on, for a little while.”
He eased down behind her. The bike dipped beneath his weight. Then his hands came up and curled around her stomach. His heat lanced right through her T-shirt. But it wasn’t painful. Not even close.
Pleasure.
It took her two tries to start the bike. They almost fell once, and then she got the motorcycle to a weaving acceleration. They didn’t go fast. It wasn’t a smooth ride, but she managed to get them back to the motel.
A fifty on the counter got them room number seven. Lucky seven. She pushed him inside, flipped the lock, and then started to strip him.
The angel studied the chaos at the feeding room. Humans—so pale and listless. Ready for death.
Good. Death was ready for them.
One touch, and a soul was his. Ready for the afterlife and any judgment that would come.
So many souls ... so easy to take.
But, no, Death didn’t get to pick and choose. Death took only the ones on the list.
So he walked past the vamp with the bloody chest, the one that seemed to actually see him. He took the humans who were marked and let the others escape.
The taint of the Fallen hung in the air, mixing with the scent of ash that clung to the floor, to the walls.
The Fallen was discovering his power. A dangerous thing ... for those around Keenan. He’d be out of control with the initial rush of power.
The first taste was always the most tempting—and therefore the most dangerous.
Keenan would want more, need more.
Demons weren’t the only ones who became addicted too quickly.
His gaze searched the room. Take another.
They all had their addictions.
He was strong enough to fight his. The Fallen wasn’t.
More death would come.
Her hands were on him, soft, cool hands that stroked—and ripped away his clothes.
“Nicole ...” Keenan’s tongue felt thick and swollen in his mouth, but, right then, his whole body felt that way. Courtesy of the fire and her stripping hands.
She tossed his shirt onto the floor. “Kick out of your shoes,” she ordered.
He nearly fell, but he managed to get the shoes off.
Then her hands went for the waist of his jeans. The heat inside flared hotter. The air around them crackled with sparks.
She froze. He saw the pulse racing at the base of her throat. “You in control?” She whispered.
Barely. He nodded.
Her hands brushed against his abdomen. Keenan sucked in a sharp breath. The fire seemed to burn his entire body from the inside out, but the need—that was centered in his throbbing cock. Her fingers were so close, and he wanted her hand on his flesh.
No, he wanted his flesh in her.
She pushed down his jeans. Her tongue swiped over her lips as her gaze dipped. “We, ah ...” She stepped back, turned, and hurried toward the bathroom. “We need to get you cooled down.”
He stood there, hands clenching, naked. Hungry, hot, wanting her.
The roar of water filled the room.
“Keenan?”
He kicked out of the jeans that had locked around his ankles. He put one foot in front of the other and forced his body to walk into that bathroom. She stood next to the shower, and water pumped down in a hard stream.
“I—it’s ice cold. It should help you.” Her voice was husky, sexy, and her gaze fell to his cock.
Need.
He wasn’t supposed to need her. He’d never wanted another. Never craved. Never wanted to take.
But he wanted to take her more than he wanted another breath.
He stepped into the shower. Like icy needles, the water pelted his body.
But the heat didn’t fade. The lust didn’t ease away. And he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Water poured over his shoulders, slid down his chest, and he found his hand lifting toward her.
Her own eyes had begun to slowly darken and fade to black. In that stare, he saw the same raw need and lust he felt.
“Nicole ...” Forbidden. This wasn’t the way for angels.
But he wasn’t an angel anymore. If he’d already paid the price for his lust, then shouldn’t he take the pleasure that waited for him?
She stepped closer to the shower. Water sprayed on her and dampened her T-shirt. Then her hands lifted. Not to reach for him, but to yank off that T-shirt.
The heat consumed him. Burning hot, so hot from within, and he ached.
His gaze raked her. Sweet flesh. Pale. Smooth. The plain black bra hugged her curving breasts ...
In mere moments, the bra hit the floor. So did her boots, her socks, her jeans ... the soft cotton panties.
Steam began to rise in the ice-cold shower—the steam rose from his flesh.
“You have to cool down,” she whispered.
The sight of her naked body wasn’t going to cool him off. Right then, he didn’t think anything could.
Flat stomach, flaring hips. Legs that were long, sensual ...
She stepped into the shower. Her nipples—dark pink—pebbled at the lash of cold water.
Take. Taste.
He wanted her so badly, but when he looked down, he realized that he’d clenched his hands. The better not to touch.
She shivered at the cold even as she came closer. Her breasts brushed against his chest.
His eyes closed. The touch was agony. A sensual hell.
More.
He wanted her nipples in his mouth. He’d seen humans fuck. Once, he’d thought it looked messy. Hot.
Now he wanted that—the shove of bodies, the pant of breath, and the hot clasp of her sex.
He wanted it all.
“You’re not cooling down,” she said, voice husky, and her hands rose to clasp his shoulders.
Keenan laughed, a rough bark of sound. “When you touch me, there’s no way I can’t burn.”
She rose onto her toes. “Maybe—maybe that’s what you need to do ... just let the fire out.”
Her lips were so close he could taste the sweetness of the kiss that would be. “And if it scorches you?”
&n
bsp; Nicole shook her head. Her dark locks were already soaked. “It won’t.” The icy water had her trembling, but she still leaned in ever closer to him. “It won’t.” Her words sounded certain, but there was so much she didn’t know.
Her lips—cold from the kiss of water—touched his. Her mouth was open, her lips soft, and her tongue pushed into his mouth.
He was lost. But then, with her, he always had been.
His hands were rough with need as he held her tight. He wanted every inch of her body against his. His tongue met hers and tasted. His mouth opened wider because he needed more of her. Wanted everything.
Her hand slid between their bodies. Slick, sure. Her fingers skated over his nipples and a growl vibrated in his throat. She pushed between them, sliding her hand down, down ...
When she touched his cock, his body jerked.
“Easy,” she whispered as she pulled back and lifted her gaze to meet his. The water wasn’t as cold now. He’d made it hot. Couldn’t control it.
No control.
Her fingers wrapped around his cock, curving over the base of his erection, and she began to pump. Long, slow pumps as her lips skimmed down his neck.
Bite. He wanted her mouth on him as her hands squeezed his flesh. Because her touch ... burning hell ... nothing had ever been so good. The pressure was just right, her fingers tight and sure, and now, moving faster, faster.
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice stronger, and she pushed him back so that his shoulders hit the tile. “You won’t hurt me.” Her lips curved in a wan smile. “I’m stronger than I look.”
So am I. He was strong, but still, with her, close to breaking.
His breath came harder and his heart thudded against his chest. Her tongue licked his throat. A hot lick that had his need spiking.
Then she began to slip down his body. Steam rose off her, and her lips feathered down his chest. Down his abdomen.
His muscles locked and when her lips closed over his cock ...
The pleasure erupted inside of him. One lick of her tongue, just one, and Keenan lost control. Lost everything.
His vision dimmed to red. A distant roar filled his ears. The pleasure mixed with the fire in his body, burning, sweeping away his past, sweeping him into the maelstrom of need and hunger and ...
Yes.
Pleasure.
So much pleasure.
She licked him again. Trailed her fingers over his cock and looked up at him.
He knew then he wouldn’t get enough. That lash of wild pleasure—it had only been the beginning and he needed, had to get more.
Everything.
No wonder humans lied and killed for sex. No wonder.
He caught her under her arms, lifted her up high, and barely felt her weight.
“Keenan, we should—”
He kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep and loving the soft moan that trembled in her throat.
His arms moved to cradle her, and, keeping his mouth crushed to hers, he carried her from the bathroom.
The heat that had seemed to burn his body from the inside out had channeled, focused now—and the focus was on her.
Easing her down carefully, he put her on the bed. His gaze swept her body, noting every curve, every small freckle, every inch of perfect skin.
Her legs shifted on the bed, parting, and he swallowed. “I want ...”
Her right hand eased down her stomach, but paused over the light covering of hair that shielded her sex from his view.
The roar was back, filling his ears. No, not a roar this time. His heartbeat. Pounding so fast.
“I want you,” Nicole said, and with that, nothing would have kept him from her.
He leaned over her and his right knee pushed down on the sagging mattress. He didn’t touch her, was almost afraid to. After having her haunt his dreams—just like this—he didn’t want to risk reaching out and having her vanish.
But this wasn’t a dream. Or a nightmare. This was real. He could just glimpse the edge of her fangs and her eyes were still pitch-black.
Not quite like his fantasies.
But she was still Nicole.
His fingers trailed down her arm. He’d always loved her skin. He bent and his breath blew lightly over her nipple.
She arched toward him. “Keenan!”
That was how a woman should say his name. With need and lust and hunger.
Not fear.
His tongue snaked out and licked her nipple. Sampled it and he found that he loved the taste. His mouth opened wider and he closed his lips over her flesh. Sucking. Tasting.
More.
His teeth scored her flesh. Perhaps there was a reason why vamps liked to bite so much. The biting was ... pleasurable.
Her legs shifted as her breath came faster. He liked that.
His fingers found her other breast and lightly caressed the nipple. But then he had to taste it, too. Her breasts were sweet, the tips like ripe strawberries—a new temptation he’d discovered.
The world was meant to tempt.
The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils. She wants me. This wasn’t a game. No trick. Nicole wanted him just as much as he wanted her. His head lifted. He stared into her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” she told him, her voice pure sin, “I won’t bite you ... I’m in control.”
He wasn’t. And as for biting, “I will.” Then he began to lick his way down her stomach as he explored every inch of her flesh. He couldn’t touch her enough. Couldn’t taste her enough. And, yes, he had to bite. Had to nip the flesh because he liked the way she gasped his name when she felt the edge of his teeth. Not enough pressure to hurt, not for her, just enough to make the need mount.
He pushed her legs apart more and settled between them. His heart was heavy in his chest, his muscles tense and his flesh was so aroused and swollen he felt like he’d explode at any minute.
His fingers shook when he touched her. She gasped, and he looked up, his gaze shooting to her face. But no pain was there, only pleasure.
He touched her again, letting his finger stroke her flesh, learning the hidden curves, and finding the spots that made her moan and arch.
He leaned in even closer because there was more he needed to know.
How does she taste?
“Keenan.” Her nails dug into shoulders. “I need ...”
“I need to taste you.” He’d never thought to have her like this. Fantasies were one thing, reality another. But now that he had her, spread beneath him, open, ready, he wasn’t going to back away.
One taste.
Would one be enough?
His lips skimmed over her sex. His tongue licked.
Not even close to enough.
A hungry growl burst from his lips as his hands clamped down tighter on her hips. He opened her more, tasting, licking, savoring every inch of her hot core.
Her moans were in his ears, her claws digging into his shoulders, and her hips pushing closer to him.
He heard her call his name. He heard the broken rasp of her breaths, but he wasn’t done.
Her body tensed, and he looked up just in time to see the blind pleasure flow across her face—and he pressed his mouth harder to her and savored the taste of her release as she came.
Then he slowly climbed back up her body. Her breath heaved, and her hands reached for him. He kissed her. Keenan drove his tongue into her mouth and let that wild hunger build and build.
He wanted to plunge into her body. To take and take and let the release rip through him.
Forbidden.
Like he gave a damn about the rules anymore. Those rules were for angels, and he didn’t have a chance of ever flying again, not with his wings burned off.
Take.
He couldn’t fly, but he could have her. He would have her.
Then the scent reached him. The light, almost sweet scent of flowers in the air.
The scent that always came when an angel was near.
He tore his mouth from hers and
spun around. His hand automatically went to the thin sheet, and he yanked it over her body. “Get out of here!” He thundered.
“What?” Nicole demanded. “After what we just—you want me to leave?”
He grabbed her wrist and chained her to him. “Not you.” His gaze swept the room. His nose followed that scent. His eyes narrowed as he focused his stare on the far corner. “You into watching now?” A dark taunt directed at the one waiting.
“Uh, Keenan?” Worry had entered Nicole’s voice. “No one else is here.”
“He’s here.” Keenan rose from the bed and didn’t bother to cover his body. Angels weren’t supposed to care about nudity. And he didn’t care about his—just hers. “Unless he’s here to kill me, then he needs to drag his winged ass out of here.”
He felt the wind whisper against his face. Angel power. “Can’t you smell him?” He asked her because a vamp’s enhanced senses should at least be able to pick up that light scent. Most humans—those who stopped to pay attention—caught the telltale fragrance.
The sheets rustled. “I ... yes.”
Keenan glanced back at her.
Her gaze was wide, her lips open. “I know that smell. In the alley, when that vampire attacked me ...” She jumped from the bed and clutched the sheet tightly to her. “I smelled it then.” Now it was her turn to sweep the room with her gaze. “There was so much blood, I couldn’t figure out why I just ... smelled flowers.”
Because an angel had been near.
“Is he the one who was there?” The worry was gone from her voice. Only fury remained. “This jerk in here—is he the one who stood there and watched while that vamp attacked me?”
Another whisper of wind blew on his face. Then the floral scent began to fade as the angel vanished. What had been the purpose of that visit?
A threat?
He didn’t take so well to those angelic threats anymore.
“He’s leaving,” Nicole whispered. She grabbed Keenan’s arm. “I can tell. The scent is almost gone.” She turned and her gaze tracked all around the room. “Why can’t I see him?”
“Because you’re not dead.” He exhaled slowly. Time for more truth. “You can only see an angel when you’re dying—in those last few seconds before death.”
Her lips curved down. “Haven’t you heard? I am dead.”
“No, you’re undead. There’s a difference.” She’d died only for a few seconds. Not long enough for her soul to leave. Just long enough for her body to change when the virus got inside her.