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Authors: Michele Hauf
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my face.
"It's not polite to stare, love." I stroked my cheek. "It's just a scratch."
She summoned courtesy, and straightened her delicate shoulders. "Sorry. I, uhâ¦" She held the halo before her, momentarily marveling over it, then quickly tucked it behind her back.
The corset cinched her breasts high and firm. I licked my lips. I could go for some of that.
"You going to share?" I queried, cautiously pacing toward her, while she stepped backward, away from the door. I reached out with my mind to touch hers. The persuasion innate to my kind would serve my means to success. "Hand it over, love."
"I'm not your love. Who are you? What do you want?"
"I want that pretty halo your daring adventure has earned you."
"Well, as you said, it was my daring adventure. That makes it mine. So bug off, creep. Erâ¦I umâ¦"
Her bright red lips parted. The hand holding the halo out of sight slid across her skirts, displaying the cheap-looking silver ring of ineffable metal.
I focused the persuasion. Just a little deeperâ¦
Her long, dark lashes fluttered. Any moment now the halo would be mine.
"Wh-what are you doing to me?" She put up her free hand to block the unseen intrusion. "I can feel you trying to controlâAre you aâAre you a vampire?"
Ouch. This woman was in the know. My persuasion scattered and dropped. She turned to run.
"Guess I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."
I beat her to the ottoman center of the hallway, and wrapped an arm about her shoulders as I landed on the big comfy island. Pulling her shoulders against my chest, I bent to sink my fangs into her juicy, thick jugular.
Blood oozed down my throat. Sweet mercy. When was the last time I'd sipped so fine a vintage? Mortals tended to be polluted with fast food and pharmaceuticals. This woman tasted pure, sweet and a little like chocolate. Delicious.
But I had a task to tend.
Reaching about with my free hand, I groped for the halo, but she flailed madly, and it was hard enough keeping her neck at my mouth.
A kick from beneath her fussy skirts proved ineffectual. I clamped my hand over her mouth just as she screamed. Her wide eyes did not look at me, but instead, over my shoulder.
The door behind us slammed against the wall.
We both turned to spy the hulking angel, with wrought-iron wings extended out thirty feet behind him, smack a fist into his palm.
"Bloody hell."
Two
I recognized the man with shoulders wider than an armored truck as an angel even before I saw the wings spread out behind him and creak like the black iron they resembled.
An angel's wings are forged from the materials of their innate skillâthe craft they'd taught mortals after Falling, and had been punished for because supposedly the Arts had been sinful back then. This one must have been an ironsmith.
I clutched the halo until I thought surely my palm would bleed. My neck hurt. The vampire had torn his fangs from my vein when the angel walked in.
I had not expected to encounter a vampire tonight. Most especially, not a vampire sporting shocking white hair and a scar cutting from his forehead, through eyebrow and eye, and ending at his jaw. His scarred eye was cloudy white. Creepier than fangs, let me tell you.
But right now the vampire was the one thing standing between the growling angel and me, so I wasn't going to be picky about appearance. I tucked myself behind the ottoman just as a blade swung through the air.
Freaky appearance aside, the vampire was tall, lean and wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off sculpted muscles only seen in the movies. He was ripped, and yes, I had to slap a palm over my heart. Be still, pitter-pattering heart. Vampires are not sexy.
He swung some kind of chain that sported a nasty scythed blade on the end of it. And did he have the moves. Twirling it overhead in a whir of silver, he then slashed it down before him to detour the charging angel.
The vampire dropped to his back, rolled and came up with a slash of the
"It's not polite to stare, love." I stroked my cheek. "It's just a scratch."
She summoned courtesy, and straightened her delicate shoulders. "Sorry. I, uhâ¦" She held the halo before her, momentarily marveling over it, then quickly tucked it behind her back.
The corset cinched her breasts high and firm. I licked my lips. I could go for some of that.
"You going to share?" I queried, cautiously pacing toward her, while she stepped backward, away from the door. I reached out with my mind to touch hers. The persuasion innate to my kind would serve my means to success. "Hand it over, love."
"I'm not your love. Who are you? What do you want?"
"I want that pretty halo your daring adventure has earned you."
"Well, as you said, it was my daring adventure. That makes it mine. So bug off, creep. Erâ¦I umâ¦"
Her bright red lips parted. The hand holding the halo out of sight slid across her skirts, displaying the cheap-looking silver ring of ineffable metal.
I focused the persuasion. Just a little deeperâ¦
Her long, dark lashes fluttered. Any moment now the halo would be mine.
"Wh-what are you doing to me?" She put up her free hand to block the unseen intrusion. "I can feel you trying to controlâAre you aâAre you a vampire?"
Ouch. This woman was in the know. My persuasion scattered and dropped. She turned to run.
"Guess I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."
I beat her to the ottoman center of the hallway, and wrapped an arm about her shoulders as I landed on the big comfy island. Pulling her shoulders against my chest, I bent to sink my fangs into her juicy, thick jugular.
Blood oozed down my throat. Sweet mercy. When was the last time I'd sipped so fine a vintage? Mortals tended to be polluted with fast food and pharmaceuticals. This woman tasted pure, sweet and a little like chocolate. Delicious.
But I had a task to tend.
Reaching about with my free hand, I groped for the halo, but she flailed madly, and it was hard enough keeping her neck at my mouth.
A kick from beneath her fussy skirts proved ineffectual. I clamped my hand over her mouth just as she screamed. Her wide eyes did not look at me, but instead, over my shoulder.
The door behind us slammed against the wall.
We both turned to spy the hulking angel, with wrought-iron wings extended out thirty feet behind him, smack a fist into his palm.
"Bloody hell."
Two
I recognized the man with shoulders wider than an armored truck as an angel even before I saw the wings spread out behind him and creak like the black iron they resembled.
An angel's wings are forged from the materials of their innate skillâthe craft they'd taught mortals after Falling, and had been punished for because supposedly the Arts had been sinful back then. This one must have been an ironsmith.
I clutched the halo until I thought surely my palm would bleed. My neck hurt. The vampire had torn his fangs from my vein when the angel walked in.
I had not expected to encounter a vampire tonight. Most especially, not a vampire sporting shocking white hair and a scar cutting from his forehead, through eyebrow and eye, and ending at his jaw. His scarred eye was cloudy white. Creepier than fangs, let me tell you.
But right now the vampire was the one thing standing between the growling angel and me, so I wasn't going to be picky about appearance. I tucked myself behind the ottoman just as a blade swung through the air.
Freaky appearance aside, the vampire was tall, lean and wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off sculpted muscles only seen in the movies. He was ripped, and yes, I had to slap a palm over my heart. Be still, pitter-pattering heart. Vampires are not sexy.
He swung some kind of chain that sported a nasty scythed blade on the end of it. And did he have the moves. Twirling it overhead in a whir of silver, he then slashed it down before him to detour the charging angel.
The vampire dropped to his back, rolled and came up with a slash of the
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