A halfling? It was a violation of the treaty. This man shouldn’t exist, and he certainly shouldn’t be inside Seattle, attacking humans. Lucian’s magic sought out the man’s demon half and destroyed it.
The screaming was mercifully short.
The man slumped under his hand, the demon gone. What was left of his human half… only time would tell. At a minimum, his memories would be erased, and he would be left in a deep magical sleep. Whether he awoke or not remained to be seen.
Lucian stood and turned to the woman. She was a fighter—that much was clear—and she still gaped at him, watching with a horror that befit what had just happened before her eyes. All his senses were tingling for her, all his runes reshuffling on his body, urging him toward her. Before he could move, she grabbed at her stomach and slowly crumpled to the dirty floor of the alleyway, banging hard against the dumpster on her way down.
Oh no.
He dashed to her side and knelt.
With horror, he realized the bullet must’ve ricocheted and found its way through her body. He placed his hand on the growing stain of blood on her white linen shirt, which had an almost angelic glow in the moonlight. But she wasn’t angel—he was even more sure of that now that he was touching her. He couldn’t taste any metal in her body, either—the bullet must’ve gone through—but the hot stickiness against his palm echoed the sweet and salty taste of her blood in the back of his mind. He could taste many more things about her as well. That she’d been with very few men, but the ones she’d encountered had been dark. Monsters. There was an overwhelming pain reverberating through her that had nothing to do with the bullet wound. It was darkness… but she’d taken that darkness and worked it like a forge to craft something brighter. Made of light.
She was nobility among humans—he could see it in her actions, even if he hadn’t just tasted it in her soul.
But she was fading fast. Keeping one hand pressed to her wound, he shifted his other into a nightmare of talons. It was a testament to how far gone she was when the six-inch blades before her face didn’t make her flinch. He used the sharp tip to slice open his palm. The blood welled, red flecked with gold, glistening dark in the shadowed alleyway, and he pressed it to her wound. It should be enough to stave off the death that was circling her, waiting for a chance to land.
She was a treasure—he could see that as plain as day in this midnight alley—just as sure as he knew he couldn’t leave her here.
She might be the one. The whisper of it haunted him. She might be strong enough.
He would have to seduce her. Convince her to love him. But he wouldn’t make the mistake of loving her in return, as he had with Cora. His heart. And if this woman survived, he wouldn’t have to carry the guilt of what he had done. She would have riches beyond imagining, including a long life and anything else she desired.
It would be a fair trade.
She roused a little with the infusion of his blood, but her eyes were still glazed. He scooped her into his arms and lifted her from the dirt. A phone in her pocket was quickly freed. He dialed 9-1-1 and tossed the device on the man’s inert body. They would come for him. But she would no longer be here. He shifted again, letting the gold expanse of his wings spread behind him as he gripped her in his talons and lifted into the air.
He was taking this treasure back to his lair.
She was flying.
Gripped in the arms of a golden-winged creature—an angel—and soaring over mountains that reflected the moonlight above.
She was falling…
Arabella awoke with a start. She sat up, gasping, dizziness flooding her brain. She was on a couch with fabric soft as butter in a vast light-filled room. The windows stretched two stories tall and covered an entire wall, giving a view of the mountains as though she were perched on top of them. The room was gorgeously decorated, like something out of a magazine. The couch formed a wide half circle twenty feet across. Natural wood floors sparkled beneath it. To her left was a white spiral staircase with a twisted metal railing. Near that, a rock sculpture carved from pure sandstone stood as tall as a man. The chairs, the couches, the spare adornments… all of it screamed money.
“Good. You’re awake.” The deep rumbling male voice made her nearly jump out of her skin.
A man appeared around the corner of the couch to her left, striding toward her.
All she could think was, holy shit, I’ve been kidnapped. Her body reacted before her mind could fully grasp what was happening. She launched herself off the cushions and ran at him, hoping to take him off guard. His eyes widened and flashed gold—no that wasn’t possible—but her flying kick was aiming straight for his solar plexus in spite of him being a mountain of a man. But instead of knocking him back when her feet jammed into his body, he moved lightning fast and caught her by the calf, yanking her toward him. She ended up trapped, mashed against his massive chest. He pulled her leg over his hip with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her back, locking her against him.