Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1) (12 page)

“She’s agreed to leave her life behind? Simple as that?” Cain asked, crossing his arms.

Jarrid adjusted his coat, patting the side pocket for his keys. “Ionie’s life changed the second a Renegade showed an interest in her.”

• • •

Saul parked his car in front of The Church and stepped out, casting what he knew was a savage look at the half-Fey valet who took his keys. He could smell the rainbows and butterflies in the boy’s blood. Shit, he hated the Fey. Fairy blood smelled delicious, but tasted like swamp water.
How can people so attractive on the outside taste like sewers?

He spat on the ground and checked his watch. Only midnight. His fangs ached for a meal. He’d settle for Scotch.

He’d avoided Beleth for two days. He dispatched his team across the city with a mandate to find the woman who wrote the newspaper crime briefs. Saul didn’t have enough men to grab every female journalist in Detroit, but his roughnecks worked with the scent the angel had provided. Yet the woman eluded them.

He paused to scan the almost naked females crowding outside the venue. Most beckoned him, shouting promises of a night he’d never forget. He nicked his tongue against a fang, swallowing the coppery burst invading his mouth.
No time for treats tonight
. He needed information to locate one bitch to stay alive. No amount of sex or blood would sway him.

Saul pushed past the Lycan bouncer and entered the darkened club. His eyes adjusted to the neon gloom.

The Church was tri-level. The first floor served as the main hub for drinking, dancing, and high-class hookers. On the second level, humans were scarce. He looked up through the glass wall. Most of the floor’s occupants would be Other, minor movers in the city’s various power circles. The third level was encased in mirrored glass. VIPs on the other side staring down their noses at the rabble.

He had never been on the third floor.
I’ll own that sweet spot one day
. He had plans. Detroit’s vampire population lacked a single, powerful leader. The race drifted in fractured packs like those flea-monger werewolves.

While tricky, vampires could be united under one ruler. The list of potentials was short, and would grow shorter once he killed them off. That’s why he partnered with Beleth. The Renegade would soon command an army of Heaven’s warriors.

With that kind of muscle behind him, Saul intended to be the only vampire standing. He only had to catch a specific woman before the angel deep-fried his balls.

Winter wasn’t Ionie’s favorite time of year, but she admired the clear sky yawning above her. The stars sang down, making her smile. She sighed and extended her near-bare legs out of her car and wobbled on the six-inch heels. She cast a quick glance around to see if anyone noticed her inelegant moves.

Why did I listen to JP?

She adjusted her ankle-length camel coat to block the wind. Thank God, the nightclub wasn’t located close to the river. She concentrated on walking so her knees wouldn’t knock together.

Think balmy. A Jamaican beach with the sun blazing overhead
. She’d dressed to kill, but parts of her were in danger of frostbite.
This better work, or so help me, JP, I’m going to haunt you!

The coat blocked the worst of the cold, and she sighed gratefully, the air clouding around her. Her teeth chattered. She increased her pace, then glanced at the crowded line ahead. Jarrid would meet her near the front doors, but she didn’t see him. She kept walking past other bodies huddled together for warmth. The club drew hordes of humans eager to check the place out. From her vantage point, all they’d catch was a cold.

She renewed her search. Up ahead, exactly where he said he’d wait, Ionie caught sight of the towering nephilim. Her eyes drank him in.

Jarrid dressed like a Pagan god in black. A pang of want hit her between the eyes. His leather coat rustled, brushing against his stylish boots. His hair, pulled back from his angled face, made his silver eyes more visible. While he talked to the bouncer, she heard appreciative — and semi-pornographic — murmurs from the people in line, male and female. Greedy eyes locked on the half-angel with undisguised lust.

Ionie wasn’t in a sharing mood. She lifted her chin and released the front of her coat. Jarrid glanced up as she neared and damn, he looked gobsmacked by her approach.

That’s it, big boy. Make the pneumonia worth it
.

She pursed her cranberry-painted lips and lengthened her stride so her red mini-dress rode perilously high on her thighs. The taunting clap of heels on concrete echoed around her, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off Jarrid.
His
eyes held a possessive glow, focused on her legs. Her heart cartwheeled in her chest. She teased him with flashes of chocolate beneath her sheer stockings. Finally, she stood in front of him, her skin burning. She’d never felt so hot in all her life.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said.

Big lie.
She’d waited in her car for fifteen extra minutes to time her unveiling.

He stared down at her. The angle gave an unobstructed view of the slopes of her breasts. JP had planned every piece of her wardrobe to be a nephilim magnet. The heels gave her an extra bit of height and made her legs look much longer than they were. The candy-apple dress and matching coat made her appear a sweet treat. She’d styled her hair in cascading curls that hung heavy on her shoulders.

“Damn, lady,” the bouncer said, “You make the moon pale with envy.”

Ionie turned a warm smile on the werewolf. “Thank you.” She glanced up at Jarrid through her lashes. “I tried to find something appropriate to wear.”

• • •

When Jarrid had arrived at The Church, he’d sent a quick text to Tanis. The angel remained in the Stronghold to monitor cellular communications from the club. He’d next checked on Kas, who drove a close circuit near the nightspot. Cain and Nesty had arrived forty minutes earlier. The two would monitor activity from the second floor while he made sure anyone with heft in the city’s supernatural underground noticed his bait.

Who had not yet arrived.

Jarrid had surveyed the line of humans. Most were college-age, their eager faces frozen by the evening’s wintry chill. They lingered like lost souls, seeking a date with any devil who’d get them inside. He didn’t understand the allure. Was it a thrill to be a vamp snack? Or did they believe one bite from a Lycan would make them a werewolf?

Ridiculous bullshit
.

The only deliverance for his brethren was through Ascension. Jarrid sensed he was close to gaining that freedom. Had he craved anything more? Grace had the power to transform them all — and with it unlocked, he could restore Tanis’ wings and revitalize his friend’s faded powers. He had gnashed his teeth, recalling how the Directorate had left the angel with his injuries.

Side with abominations and live like one
. The ‘screw you’ logic had come from Azriel.

“Two of your boys are inside,” the bouncer told him, drawing his attention.

“I’m waiting on someone.”

Where was she?

The Lycan had licked a single canine and swept a clawed hand over the crowd. “Take your pick. Any color, any flavor. They’re as good as popsicles standing out here.”

After that, everything changed.

Jarrid’s keen eyes caught movement near the end of the line. Bright red shifted past one huddled group of bodies before coming into view.

Lord, have mercy.
He sucked in a breath and held it.

Ionie’s legs struck the pavement in sensuous strides, commanding — no demanding — every eyeball within a block pay homage. The thin high heels gave an illusion of length, as if her legs went on forever. His eyes followed the creamy brown ankles up, paused at the toned athletic calves before lingering on thighs made to smother a man in bliss.
Fuck my life
.

His knees, ready to buckle, locked in place as the barely-there dress struck him immobile. The garment flitted with seductive promise, drawing his gaze with every mind-blowing step Ionie took.

Blood rushed like a freight train through his ears. His breathing derailed and his heart tried to slam through his ribs. When his cock stiffened, no doubt accepting his body’s revolt as an invitation to play, Jarrid bit down on his inside cheek hard enough to redirect blood flow. Nothing in his brain registered except the sight of her.

Ionie locked him in place with her innocent, almond-shaped eyes and a slow curve of a smile graced her red lips. “Sorry I’m late.”

Despite her gravity-defying shoes, she barely chipped away at his lofty height. He looked down and prepared to mumble a greeting, when the only coherent thoughts in his head packed bags and fled.

Two chocolate-colored knolls rose and fell with each breath she took, hypnotizing him. The halves Jarrid glimpsed looked soft enough to touch, yet firm enough to handle a squeeze from his massive palms. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“Thank you,” Ionie said, smiling to the bouncer.

Had the Lycan spoken?

She turned her beautiful face to him. “I tried to find something appropriate to wear.”

Ionie proceeded into the nightclub. Jarrid forced his legs to move. He reached above her to hold the door open.

Once inside, his eyes adjusted to the menagerie. Humans, Lycans, Fae, Vampires, Shifters. The Church was packed with every race worth counting in Detroit.

“A Dream Within A Dream” by The Glitch Mob boomed from speakers over the dance floor, driving heavy, exotic beats into the erotic haze charging the air. Jarrid stared at the mass of bodies, some slick with sweat, grinding together.

Then Ionie swayed, twisting her ample hips to the song’s pounding bass beat. He suffocated a groan before it climbed from his throat.

She’s here to kill me
. He never imagined his little reporter was an assassin in her own right.
Hold up.
My
reporter?

Ionie turned to face him, causing a mass of dark curls to wrap around her neck. “God, I love The Glitch Mob.”

Right now, I love the fucking Glitch Mob!
He nodded, stiff necked. When she bestowed a radiant smile on him, he vowed to download every CD of the band as soon as he returned to the Stronghold.

“Come here often?” she asked, giving him a teasing wink.

“I do.”

“I can see why. I never imagined this place was so cool.”

“You’ve only been here a few minutes.”

Another song pulsed through the club. “Stripped” by Shiny Toy Guns.

Ionie squealed and grabbed his hand. “Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Jarrid took a quick glance at the clear glass on the second floor. Cain and Nestaron raised their beer bottles in unison.
I’ll never live this shit down
.

He accompanied Ionie to a darkened area of dance floor, cataloguing every lust-filled eye fixated on her curvaceous backside. Jarrid reached the desired corner without committing murder. Barely.

Sexy lyrics screamed from the oversized speakers lining the walls. The sensual beat had Ionie grinding her hips to pace the music. His dick became a pole. Jarrid adjusted the goddamned thing on the sly. If he had to pin it to his thigh with a dagger, he’d do it. Satisfied, he amended his earlier vow.
Buy every album by The Glitch Mob and Shiny Toy Guns when I return to the Stronghold
.

Ionie reached her toned arms up, her slender fingers trailing fire down his biceps. He stood close enough to feel heat radiating off her like a kiln — pure, exquisite, scorching. His body responded as if no other woman shared the dance floor. His attention was wholly hers.

I’m so fucked.

• • •

Saul turned from the bartender in time to see a goliath follow a human to the dance floor.
Shit, the guy was a hulk
. He shoved through the crowd for a closer look. The big bastard stood to the side, but Saul didn’t recognize his profile. He shifted his attention to the woman.

She was striking, some kind of mixed-race human. Her skin, a delectable shade of brown, was highlighted by the slip of a dress she wore. He looked down at the rail he stood behind. A red coat rested over the side.

Hers?

He watched the woman dancing in front of the tall statue and rested his hand on the coat. Saul stroked the soft leather in time with her gyrating hips. He imagined how she’d taste after she’d worked her blood to a vigorous boil. He kept his eyes on the strange couple, raised her coat to his nose, and inhaled.

The chick wore no perfume he could detect, but her natural aroma fired his blood.

I know this scent
. He opened his senses, dividing the woman’s odor from the sweaty bodies near her. Spices. Sun-kissed sweetness. A hint of …

Saul rocked back on his heels, his disbelieving gaze shooting to the woman.

Grace!

His lips snarled away from his fangs and he dropped the coat. Could this be the one he sought?

At a nightclub?
He had to be certain.
No mistakes this time
. He needed to get closer. Saul peered at the giant.
Did they arrive together?
She’d need an escort to get inside.

He melted to a side chair, sat down, and drummed his fingers on the glass table.

Think
. If the big guy picked her up outside they may not be an item. He could chance getting her alone.

The man leaned down, his face obscured, to listen as the woman spoke into his ear. Then he gestured to the rear of the club, to the toilets.

Saul leapt from his chair. He bypassed a group of drunk Fairies to reach the restrooms as the woman disappeared into the one for females. He stole a glance at the dance floor.

The hulk was gone.

The ladies restroom was a sea of flesh. Ionie was glad she didn’t need to use the facilities. Her dance with Jarrid left her skin scorched. Banging beats, sultry bodies writhing around her, and a half-angel with the face of a god.

What a night
. He’d devoured every move she made with open hunger.
I owe JP a year’s supply of Godiva’s
.