Fallen (3 page)

But she had blown that kiss, which meant she was interested. His charms would prove irresistible to her once
he kissed her for real. And she was walking toward him all intent and licking her lips—

Cooper's Adam's apple compressed against his spine. His shoulders slammed against the wall.

The redhead's fingers squeezed about his throat. Cooper gagged. His feet left the floor. She was so strong!

“How's tricks?” she asked. Her eyelashes were so long they tangled in stray strands of her hair. She smiled, not nicely, and in fact, rather wickedly.

Cooper couldn't answer, or slip from her grip. What in Beneath? Were they making the pretty ones so strong now?

Jamming her knee into his bollocks, she managed to unleash an inner rage he'd thought long harnessed after his war days Above. He shoved her away and wrangled her arm, twisting it behind her back and slamming her chest against the wall.

“What kind of game are you playing, sweetie?” he hissed at her ear. “You shouldn't damage the merchandise. Won't make tricks any fun later on.”

She chuckled and elbowed him. He took the surprise poke to his abdomen with a gasped “Buh.”

Much as he enjoyed females, he wasn't about to let one treat him this way. Not in front of the other women.

He managed to shove her into a nearby booth and she landed on the padded black vinyl, but not without pulling him onto the seat behind her.

Cooper eyed the bar. If anyone saw him wrestling with this woman, they'd suspect it was all his to-do, and not the sweet woman's fault.

Sweet, his ass. She didn't look capable of the wrestling feat she'd just performed. Too sexy. Too soft. Hair he'd like to tangle his fingers into. And did she smell like bubble
gum? But for the strange masculine clothing she was a walking advertisement for all the sensual delights.

“You like it rough?” he said, sliding up to her and grabbing her wrist before she could slap him. “If so, you may be able to talk me into some rough stuff. But you gotta keep your knees from my crotch, sweetheart. That's foul play.”

“I don't want to have sex with you,” she said.

Cooper felt the sharp sting of a blade against his throat. Another new touch sensation. He cautioned himself from swallowing. “Whoa.” Not only was she tough, she was also fast.

This was his first taste of crazy since landing on earth. Interesting, yet annoying.

He wasn't sure how much of a loose cannon this one was, and what her intentions were, so he placed his hands flat on the table to show compliance.

“I want to slay you,” she said. Again she granted him that wide, not-so-mirthful grin. “Where's your muse, Fallen one?”

How could she possibly know what he was? Unless…

She couldn't be. He couldn't get a good look at the blade. He'd seen a dagger forged to kill Fallen once before—about five seconds before he had reached inside the Sinistari's chest and ripped out its adamant heart. But this wasn't right. He'd thought the Sinistari were male.

“You got it,” she answered his thoughts. “I'm your worst nightmare in the one form I bet you absolutely crave, eh? A pretty redhead with nice breasts?”

“Don't flatter yourself, sweetie.” He thought to wrangle the blade from her, but knew it could be his death. “Sinistari?”

“Surprise,” she singsonged. “You were expecting someone a bit more macho?”

“Oh, I think you've mastered macho.”

And he had only to stab his fingers between her ribs and rip out the hard, metal heart that, like his, never beat.

He couldn't take her out in the club. Everyone would notice. And he guessed she'd put up a splendid fight.

“Could you put the blade away?” he asked calmly. “One thing I do know is that thing only works on me when I'm in half form.”

More specifically, when he was half human, half angel, and attempting to have sex with his mortal muse. Like that was ever going to happen.

“Sorry to break this to you, Red, but I'm not going to give you what you want.”

“You're a liar.”

“We just met, sweetheart. And frankly, you don't know anything about me and what I want on this earth. And how are you a female?”

She kicked back in the booth and put up one snakeskin-booted foot on the table. If she weren't Sinistari, Cooper would find her attractive. Hell, he'd already been thinking about what he would do if she were naked and was allowed to unleash his arsenal of kisses upon her.

But not a Sinistari demon. No way in Beneath or Above. The Sinistari's only task was to slay the Fallen. That meant him.

The pretty redhead with the bubble-gum smile and savory scent was the last female walking this earth Cooper wanted to touch, unless it was to rip out her heart.

And yet, one always kept their enemies close if one wished to draw breath the following morning.

“This is the way I was forged,” she offered, her elbow hooking over the back of the booth. She chewed the gum and snapped it loudly. “You don't like it? Tough. Now, I don't want to spoil your fun, and I am disappointed
you're not sexing up your muse right now, but tell me why vampires are following you.”

“Vampires?”

“You didn't notice? Figures. You're too busy picking out tonight's sheetmate. There are two bloodsuckers in the club, and they are hot on your plaid butt.”

Cooper wasn't sure how vampires played into the game between Sinistari and Fallen. Nor had he noticed, or would he notice, if a couple of vampires had been eyeing him up. They blended easily with mortals, and their kind could only determine one from another by a touch called the shimmer. An angel could connect to that shimmer, but only if he were searching for such a connection.

“You're mistaken,” he said.

“I'm never wrong.”

“That's funny, considering you can't have been on earth more than a few days.
Never
hasn't quite the impact.”

Twisting her hair about a finger, she nodded toward the balcony railing. “Look down there.”

He followed her pointing finger, but was wary she had not put away the blade. The Sinistari demon wielded the only blade that could pierce his solid glass heart and kill him.

Over by the balcony a man in a dark suit with dark hair and a neatly squared red tie cast his glance over the dance floor below.

“He's not a vampire. How can you possibly know?”

“He smells like blood and I saw the fangs. Besides, I can sense them the same way I can sense the Fallen. Vibrations, baby. He's a vamp. There's another one below. They're doing the tag team thing. But whatever. If you won't listen to me, fine. I'll follow your wake when you leave the club. Did you, um…bring your wooden stake?”

She twirled her knife, smiling mockingly as she did,
then tucked it away in the leather sheath strapped under her arm. How she had gotten past security with that thing was beyond Cooper.

“Guess not.” She snapped her gum and the tilt of her head dusted a swath of gorgeous hair over a shoulder. “So, Juphiel.”

“That's not my name,” he corrected quickly. “Not here. Not on earth.”

“Yeah? Okay, I'll play. What's the name of the man I'm going to poke with my big pointy knife and rip the heart out of?”

“Y
ou're kidding me, right?”

The man was ten kinds of sexy. And Pyx had been on earth such a short time even one kind of sexy was intriguing. His gray eyes featured wild spots of color. Each time she looked at them she saw a new one, azure, green, violet—or it could be the club lights. The shadow of a mustache emphasized his lips. And his square jaw advertised power and strength, a warrior.

Warriors she appreciated, and could definitely waste some time admiring. Angels were warriors, but so not her type.

It wasn't fair. He was the enemy. She existed on this earth to kill him, not admire him.

And don't forget it
.

“Cooper Truhart?” she said after he'd given her his name. “What kind of name is Cooper?”

“I was conjured to earth and landed on top of a car,” he
said casually. A wink was followed by a dangerous melt-her-steel-heart smile. “You should be glad I didn't go with Mini.”

“You don't use your angel name?”

“I have no desire to defame my divine name as I walk this earth. You don't like it, that's not my problem. What is my problem, is you. If I can't kill you—and I'm not into murdering women—then I'll need to turn my back. I'll be leaving now. Not that you're not a peach to talk to, but demons are not my thing.”

“You're not my thing either, angel boy,” she called as he slid from the booth and strode off.

The kilt hem hit at his knees, and revealed tight, muscled legs with dark hair. He scratched his hip and batted that same sexy wink over his shoulder at her.

Pyx nodded, but couldn't find a smile. “Idiot. He has no clue about the vampires. Guess someone better keep an eye on the poor, lost fallen angel. Because if I don't, he'll never survive to find his muse.” And why
not
kill her? Since when did angels discern the moral quandary between killing a male or female?

Curse the black sea Beneath! Why breasts and curves? If this was a joke on her for something she'd done or not done the previous round she'd been summoned to stalk the Fallen, she did not appreciate it now. Because, okay, she had slipped up then. Then, she'd not located the Fallen she'd been assigned to kill until it was too late—a nephilim had been born.

She would prove herself this go-around. Her pride—yet another necessary sin—demanded it.

Easing her way through the crowd, Pyx found Cooper standing at the top of the stairs looking over the dance floor below. She approached slowly, keeping shy of his peripheral vision.

What would an angel be doing in a dance club when he should be stalking his muse? Unless he was picking up women for practice?

Didn't make sense. Pyx knew the Fallen could have sex with mortal women, but they didn't receive pleasure unless the act was with a muse. Seemed like a waste of time to go through the motions with any old woman and for no reward.

Pyx, on the other hand, could do as she pleased. She could be with any man she desired.

“A man?” she muttered, still put off by the fact she was a she. “What the heck would I do with one of them?”

Though she had to admit she did notice the males more than the females. Good thing for her sexual assignment. But the sexiest man in the room was also her target.

Maybe the muse was in the room? The Fallen were compelled toward their muses. Hmm…

Well, if he were going to attract a hapless mortal destined to carry his monster baby, his current fashion choice did aid in his allure.

“Why a kilt?” she wondered as she stepped behind Cooper and leaned onto the railing right next to him. “It's like a skirt for guys, right?”

“It lets my dangly bits dangle,” he answered. “It's a freeing feeling. You should try it—er, oops. You've no bits to dangle.”

“Are you mocking me, Fallen one?”

He turned and slipped his gaze down her torso and legs. An assessing look that unsettled her.

“Do you have issues with your sexuality, then? Because it seems as if you're not overly pleased with the mortal costume you wear. Usually chicks wear dresses, or something feminine when out clubbing.”

A deeper blue edged the man's gray eyes, and they
pierced Pyx right through the heart. Which was strange because her heart was metal and nothing could penetrate it. The burn she felt in her chest must be residual effects from the whiskey.

He snapped his fingers before her.

“I do not have issues,” she returned. “I'm perfectly fine with the bits I've got.”

“They are lovely bits.” Now his eyes strayed to the V in her shirt where her breasts rose in soft globes. “Plan to take those babies for a spin while you're here on earth?”

Pyx clasped the shirt opening. “Meaning?”

“Well, I know you, Sinistari. You're all about the sin. Lust, pride, greed, vanity and gluttony. If you're in the mood, I can help you with the lust.”

“You'd sleep with a demon?”

He shrugged. “I find my own desires are immense. And I do like redheads. Care for a kiss?”

Pyx shoved her fingers through the hair she wasn't so sure about. It was too long and silky. It hung in her eyes. She blew at the bangs dipping over her brows. She couldn't look at Cooper. And his question put her off. What to say?

“Kidding,” he said. “I'd like to keep you at arm's distance if that's all right with you.”

“Fine with me. I only need to stretch to poke you with my blade. But we'll worry about that when the time has come. Back to the vamps,” she said. “You going to amble on out of here without backup?”

“I don't understand your worry. And yes, I intend to amble without a care. Not even for the demon.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

“It'll serve me well enough.”

“Why's that?” He scanned the crowd, not looking at her.

“You leave first, and I'll follow the vampires as they track you.”

“They're not going to— Why am I arguing with a demon? Good riddance, Sinistari.”

He skipped down the steps in his clunky boots and landed on the main floor with a jump. Without a glance up at her, he then danced his way along the crowd and into the darkness toward the back exit door.

“Leaving without a woman on his arm?” Pyx tapped the railing. “Interesting. He's freaked now. I'm sure of it. The angel has more than a demon on his ass. Just you wait, Fallen one, I'll be tracking vamps on your wake in no time.”

 

Cooper went down the Metro stairs to the train. He kept one eye scanning his periphery and over his shoulder. Two dark figures followed him.

Vampires? He didn't have bloodsucker radar. The demon would know for certain. Their earthly connection to those things could sniff out any paranormal by vibration alone.

He'd allowed the sexy, sexually confused demon to put stupid thoughts into his brain. He wasn't being followed. And if he was, they sure as hell were not vampires. Maybe a couple of pissed-off mortals who'd been dumped by their women after Cooper had flirted with them.

Turning a curve in the long cement tunnel stretching underground toward the Metro station, Cooper listened as the probably-not-vampires closed in on him. He knew this was a longer stretch and made a left turn to the C line instead of walking straight toward his usual train.

Pressing his back to the wall, he waited.

On the slight chance they could be vamps, he had no
wooden stake, not even a weapon, and he knew vamps weren't so easy to take down. He was stronger than mortal men, but he wasn't sure how his strength matched up with a vampire.

Earthbound or not, he still retained a few tricks up his sleeve.

The first man rounded the corner and Cooper swung out his arm, clocking the bastard across the throat. The man took it with a gasp and a growl, revealing fangs.

So the demon had been right.

Cooper tossed the vamp against his cohort, who shoved him back at Cooper. Both charged him, fangs extended.

He could flash out of here, but that wouldn't be any fun.

Cooper set his shoulders and bounced on the balls of his feet. He welcomed the fisticuffs. And if he got the chance to bash up a few vamps, that suited him fine. He carried a lot of aggression stored in his bones and since he'd been on earth he had found little opportunity to let it out, save on that one now-dead Sinistari.

Slammed against the wall, Cooper choked out his breath as one vamp pummeled him in the gut. The other vamp drew out a dagger, which was cheating, really. And didn't they know only one kind of dagger could kill an angel?

Maybe they didn't know he was an angel? Maybe they were just jonesing for some blood? Not that angel blood would do either of them any good—it would freeze them solid, and then—kablam.

Out of all the people in the nightclub, Cooper suspected he had not been the most appetizing. There had been plenty of women with soft necks and warm, adrenaline-spiked blood. This had to be because he was an angel.

He kicked his attacker, but only landed high on his thigh. Didn't move the bastard an inch. A flash of steel
careened toward his shoulder, yet the blade suddenly soared backward, away from its target.

A sweep of red hair brushed Cooper's cheek.

“Oh, enough, bloody enough!” He did not need to be saved by a woman!

Cooper bashed his forehead against a vampire's skull. His brain reverberated in his head. The bloodsucker's skull was hard! A shove of his hand—he didn't touch the vamp's chest—sent the creature flying away and crashing against the ceiling. The vamp dropped hard.

Pyx gripped the other vampire by the throat and slammed him against the cement wall. “Who sent you?”

Interrogation. Good idea, Cooper thought. Glad he'd thought of it.

The fallen vamp lunged, aiming toward Cooper.

He made a tight, straight spade of his fingers and shoved them into the vampire's chest. The creature yowled. Cooper gripped the heavy mass of hot muscle. A gut kick sent the vampire stumbling backward.

Blood oozed over Cooper's fingers and dripped onto the floor. The vampire whose chest was now empty of his heart ashed, as did the heart in Cooper's hand. Slimy ash-drenched blood oozed in splats onto the cement floor near his boots.

The other vampire spat in Pyx's face. She swiped the bloody spittle away and then pounded a wooden stake into the vamp's chest. It took a lot of force to put a piece of wood through ribs and muscle. Pyx made it look as if she was spearing an olive with a toothpick.

Ash spattered into the air. The Sinistari shook off the gray dust and delivered a triumphant smile to Cooper.

“I do have a stake,” she said, then glanced at Cooper's bloody hand. “Oh. That'll work, too.”

Careening around the corner flew two more vamps. Or
Cooper confirmed they were of the vampire persuasion when one jumped on Pyx's shoulders and sank his teeth into her skull above her ear.

Cooper gripped the wood handrail and tore it from the industrial bolts securing it to the wall. He broke it in half and caught the charging vampire in the chest with it.

Pyx spouted every oath in the book as she struggled to detach the fangs and fingers digging into her scalp and throat.

Cooper twisted the thick wooden stake and kicked the dead vampire off from it. Ash dusted Pyx. The vamp gnawing at her skull inhaled a mouthful and choked.

Pyx smashed the vamp against the wall. “Suck on that, longtooth!” It released her, and she scrambled away the direction it had come. A new vampire appeared, saw his retreating cohort, and joined him.

Wielding the stake like a spear, Cooper threw it after the vamps and caught the tip at the back of one's head. His strength had given the soaring wooden stake rocket power and it entered the vampire's skull with ease, dropping to the ground in a clatter as the vampire became dust.

Cooper caught Pyx by the shoulder, and when she struggled to race after the final vampire that had gotten away, he twisted her arm around behind her back.

“Get your bloody hands off me!” she cried.

He released her and flicked the blood from his hand against the cement wall. Taking in the surroundings, he listened, confirming no mortals within hearing or eyesight. The bloodstains would raise questions. At least the vamp had ashed and hadn't left a mangled body behind for someone to freak over.

“Let the longtooth go,” he said. “It'll run to its master and tell them what a force we are to deal with.”

“It'll return to its master and give him details,” she hissed.

“Details of what?”

“You!”

Wiping the blood from his hand on his white shirt, Cooper smirked. “They were following you too, sweetie.”

The shirt was a loss and the blood stank. He couldn't walk around mortals with it in this condition. He shrugged it off, and balled it up. “I'm out of here.”

Pyx kicked the cement wall and growled in frustration. “You're welcome!” she called in his wake.

She thought she'd saved him? Poor misguided demon.

But Cooper had no intention of hanging around to convince her of her mistake. The day had taken a very wrong turn. And he was not stupid. He needed to put as much distance between himself and the Sinistari as possible. A
schush
and clatter signaled the arriving train. Cooper slam-dunked the bloody shirt into a trash can, and jumped onto the train, insinuating himself within the crowd.

It was after midnight. The club rush, both standing and seated, filled the train. Sure he was shirtless and sporting an ash-dusted kilt, but he didn't raise any eyebrows from those with spiked hair, elaborate makeup or high-cut skirts that dared to show more than tease.

Cooper let out a breath. He'd never run from danger. He had once been the instigator of danger and chaos, and…death.

Those were innate characteristics he wished to change. And he would. He must if he wished to belong. Walking away had been the right thing.