Angel of Darkness (The Fallen #1)(12)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Grim comfort, but the only comfort she had. Because in that instant, Nicole knew there was no choice. There hadn’t been from the moment she’d crawled back up to the road. She needed him.

But what would he do with her?

The hotel’s walls were paper-thin. The bedding was old and faded.

And there were no handcuffs in sight.

Keenan carried Nicole to the bed and placed her carefully onto the sagging mattress. She didn’t stir. She’d gone to sleep—passed out—about three hours ago. He’d kept driving, wanting to get her to relative safety.

He hadn’t stopped all the men who’d taken her. Romeo and a sidekick had fled. Since Keenan didn’t want those two charging after her again, he’d made sure he crossed the border.

Not that Texas would be that much safer for his little vampire.

Vampire.

He stared down at her, frowning. Blood soaked her shirt, and vampires couldn’t afford that much blood loss. When she woke, she’d be desperate to drink again.

Food for a vamp. Looked like the mighty had fallen. Not that he minded having her mouth on him. No, that had been …

Pleasurable.

Handcuffed to the bed.

His jaw clenched. He didn’t need handcuffs to keep her by his side. Soon enough, she’d realize that he was the only thing standing between her and the monsters on her trail. Now he understood the whispers he’d heard—the stories about the Other who were tracking his runaway teacher.

He reached for her shirt. One pull and the fabric ripped. Her skin was stained red with blood, but the wound had started to close. Good. He’d clean her up, let her sleep and …

And figure out just what he was supposed to do with her.

Her lips were parted as her breath gently eased out. She was so pale. Far paler than she’d been back in New Orleans. Back then, she’d had sun-kissed skin and laughing eyes.

Now, her skin was like every vampire’s he’d ever met. Too pale. And her eyes, when she fed—pitch-black.

His fingers skimmed down her arm. The flesh was as soft as he’d imagined. Smooth. Chilled.

She was—

Her lashes flew up. Her eyes were green, that deep green he remembered so well. “I don’t want to die …” She whispered, her voice fretful.

“You won’t.” Not that day. He’d make sure of it.

Her left hand rose to her throat. “Hurt me …”

Did she even know what she was saying? Doubtful. Her eyes were already starting to sag closed again, and her voice had slurred on the words.

But he leaned close to her anyway and let his mouth hover near her ear. “I won’t.”

At least, not any more than he already had.

It seemed that nearly everything had been taken from him. Even the life—her life—that he’d meant to save.

Vampire.

CHAPTER THREE

It was the thirst that woke her. The pain of her parched throat and the grumble of her stomach trickled through her consciousness. Thirst/hunger … for vamps it was one and the same.

Then the other sounds registered. The soft expulsions of breath in the air. The squeak of beds, close, probably within one hundred feet. The rumble of cars on a highway.

She licked her lips. The move didn’t help the thirst any. Nicole opened her eyes. He was beside her. Keenan’s long lashes cast dark shadows against his cheeks.

His chest was bare, the muscles strong and toned and his flesh tanned a golden brown. The thin sheet lay just over his hips, barely covering his waist and legs.

Nicole glanced down. Her clothes were gone. Right. She’d figured that when she felt the cold air on her br**sts. She grabbed the sheet and yanked it up.

And that thirst had her teeth stretching, burning …

He was still asleep. So close. If she was careful, he wouldn’t even realize what she was doing.

Maybe.

Nicole leaned over him and her hair fell forward to brush against his arm. She could hear his heartbeat drumming. Such a strong, powerful beat. He’d tasted so good before. If she could just get a few more sips of blood, she’d have enough strength to head back into the night and disappear.

Her mouth lowered toward his throat. Just a few drops …

“So I had to promise not to hurt you, but as soon as you wake, you go right for my throat.”

She froze. Her gaze lifted, and she saw his lashes slowly rise. He turned his head a fraction and met her gaze. “Hardly seems fair, sweet.”

She swallowed—tried to, anyway. “You don’t … understand the thirst.” For a human, it would feel as if the person had gone a week without food. So consuming. Overwhelming.

“I understand more than you can imagine.”

No, he didn’t. She wrenched away, keeping that sheet clutched to her as she rolled for the edge of the bed.

He grabbed her wrist in a lightning-fast move. Now it was her turn to freeze.

“Where are you going?” He demanded, but his hand wasn’t rough on her flesh. His thumb was … stroking her. Like he was enjoying the feel of her skin. Weird.

Sexy.

A shiver skated over her. “If I can’t take from you, then I have to find someone else.”

Now his hold tightened. “Going to seduce another human?”

Her head whipped back toward him. “Would you rather I ripped out their throats?”

“I’d rather you didn’t do anything with them. Humans are dangerous.”

She laughed at that. “Of all the monsters out there, I fear them the least.”

“Then you’re being a fool.” He still didn’t let her go.

And, great, he’d called her a fool. Way to sweet-talk.

“Humans hunted you last night,” he said. “When humans realize what you are, they want you dead.”

“Everyone wants me dead.” Why did he think she’d been running for so long? “I’ve been running from shifters, demons, and hunters like you ever since I became one of the undead.” And she was tired.

If they’d just leave her alone …

But since she’d risen as a vampire, she seemed to have some kind of beacon on her back. They kept coming after her. Before she’d left New Orleans, a group of demons had broken into her house. Screaming, fighting, they’d tried to force her to leave with them.

They hadn’t expected her vampire strength. She hadn’t expected it either. But when she’d nearly ripped a demon’s arm from his body, the others had finally backed off.

“How long have you been a vampire?”

Not a growl now. A deep, rumbling question. His thumb still stroked her wrist.