Angel of Darkness (The Fallen #1)(23)
Author: Cynthia Eden

He jerked at his shirt and ripped the material from collar to waist, a long, jagged tear that revealed his chest. “So … hot.”

She cleared her throat. When you conjured fire, it stood to reason you might get a bit … warm.

But, wait, he was sweating. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes kept flickering from blue to black.

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.