Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Two days ago, you came to kill me.”
Okay, true, that had been her assignment, but . . .
His fingers slid down her cheek and eased over her neck. “You came into my dreams and you tried to take my power.”
Power he’d willingly given to her when his body took hers.
“Now Fallen are dying around us. You say that Rogziel is after you . . .”
“He is.” Like she’d lie about having a punishment angel on her trail.
“Then why did he let you drive away with me?”
Now she was lost. “What?”
“Rogziel arrived at the scene after the firefighters. He perched on the house across the street from Anthea’s place, and he just watched us.” His mouth tightened with distaste. “When we left, so did he. No attack, not yet . . . he just followed.”
That was fear eating at her heart. “He knows we’re here?”
“ No. ”
Her shoulders sagged. Aw, jeez, for a minute there . . .
“I let him follow at first, just to see what the bastard would do, but after we left New Orleans, I cloaked us.”
Uh, okay. She didn’t really know what he meant by cloaking, but she figured it was another little handy magic trait that he possessed—and just how many of those traits did the guy have? “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
She saw the ripple of dark wings over his shoulders. Shadows. Not there.
“And there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
Now he was starting to make her angry. Her eyes narrowed. “Well, I guess that’s why they call it trust, right?” He’d been the one spouting about trust before, now he wanted—
A rap shook the door.
She didn’t like this.
Sam turned away from her. “Don’t worry. If you have nothing to hide, this will be over in a few moments.”
She grabbed his hand. “What if I do have something to hide?” Because, dammit, she hadn’t been straight with him, not entirely.
And she still didn’t want to be.
His gaze glittered down at her. “Then I’d say we have a problem.”
Yes, they did. She did. “Demons can’t look into the minds of other demons.” In case his master plan was to bring in a level eight or nine demon to rip into her head. It wouldn’t work. Her demon blood would keep any psychic mojo out of her mind.
“I’m not pulling in a demon.”
Seline tried not to let him see her relief. She could probably handle this. She could usually handle just about anything.
Usually.
“I’m not looking for your past,” he told her. “The past is over. It doesn’t matter.”
Bull. The past made the monsters of today and tomorrow.
Sam’s eyes seemed to see too much. “I need to know the future, for both of our sakes.”
Oh, no, no, he’d better not mean . . .
Sam pulled away from her. He opened the door. Seline wasn’t sure what she expected, but it sure wasn’t the tall, tattooed guy with the devilish grin.
Not a demon. Then . . . what?
He wore all black, and the guy glided easily into the room. His shaved head inclined toward Sam. There were tribal tattoos sliding over his scalp. He asked, voice rumbling, “Is she the one?”
Crap. The one what?
“Sí, Mateo. I need to see what will happen with her.”
Sam crossed his arms. The guy, Mateo, pulled out a knife.
Then he came at her with that knife.
Oh, hell, no.
CHAPTER NINE
When Seline looked like she’d take a swing at Mateo, Sam lunged forward. He grabbed her right wrist, then her left, and held her tight.
She glared up at him. “You are making one huge mistake here.”
No, he was just doing what he had to do. He’d been misled by an innocent face before. Once upon a time, he’d even thought he was in love, then the human had found out exactly what he was. Even genteel ladies in 1880 could have a very dark side. Helena had drugged him with laudanum, then lit him on fire while he slept. The fire had burned through his skin. The drug had dulled his power so he couldn’t control the flames. He’d just burned, for hours . . .
When Helena saw that he wasn’t dying, she’d brought in every man she could find from town. The good preacher had called him a devil, and the men had stabbed him. His muscles had been slashed, bones hacked . . . and he’d still lived.
Torture could come in many forms.
When the drug finally wore off, he’d shown them just how much of a devil he could be.
Helena hadn’t been the first, or the last, human to betray him, but these days, he was far more careful.
“Keep that guy and his knife away from me!” Seline said, voice rising.
Not possible. “He needs your blood.”
Her eyes widened. “Vampire?” A whisper, one he was sure Mateo heard.
Sam shook his head. “Witch.”
She paled even more. Apparently she knew that witches could be far more dangerous than vamps. Good for her.
He glanced over his shoulder but kept his hold on Seline’s delicate wrists. Mateo had placed his scrying mirror on the floor. Its black surface gleamed up at them. The witch chanted softly.
It wasn’t easy for a witch to look into the future. Many considered it forbidden.
Good thing Sam and Mateo didn’t fall into that “forbidden” category.
“Give me the knife,” he told Mateo.
Mateo glanced up at him. “You always did like to get your hands dirty.”
Seline kicked Sam in the shin. “I don’t know what you think is about to happen here—”
Mateo rose and closed the distance between them. “I’m going to take a few drops of your blood. Then I’m going to get a little glimpse of the future.” Said flatly and with only the faintest hint of his Spanish accent. The guy sounded like he cut women all the time and peered into their futures—because that was exactly what he did.
Just another ordinary night for him.
“One glimpse will show us just where your allegiance lies,” Sam said because that part was what mattered. The body count was rising. Az and Rogziel would be closing in soon. Not just one threat—two. When the end came, could he trust her to have his back? Or would she serve him up to his enemies so that she could save herself?
Been there, done that.
“You expect me to bleed for you?” she demanded, voice sharp.
Yes.