through the crush of dancing bodies. She stood as tall as him so it was easy to spot her in the crowd. She carried her head high and segued into a group that matched the music’s rhythm.
She caught him staring and blew him a kiss, her red lips puckering sexily.
Man, did he love the women.
The guy with the mousse-slicked white hair and silver hoop earrings was definitely not human. Vampire, Pyx decided, and in confirmation, he flashed fang when he leaned in to whisper into a mortal woman’s ear.
While mortals did not believe in those creatures they labeled paranormal, Pyx wasn’t so stupid. If angels and demons trod the earth then so did all the rest of the monsters and freaks.
Her job was to ensure a nephilim did not join the freak ranks.
“Let the games begin.”
It was dark in the bar, save for the frenetic lights flashing violet and red and bouncing off the corrugated steel walls. The atmosphere was disturbing. Frantic, alive and vital. After so much time spent Beneath she craved the activity. Adrenaline coursed through her system. Yet she needed to focus. And wonder upon wonders, the first nightclub she’d chosen had turned up the Fallen she was after. Go, Sinistari!
The Fallen had not said anything to her when she’d stolen his drink. She wasn’t sure how to take that. Not defending his property? A wimp? Or a gentleman who would allow a woman to do as she desired?
Either way, for some reason, said task had suddenly taken on new weight as she watched the pale-haired vampire eye another vamp across the room. That dude wasn’t here for kicks; he was following someone. She knew it because she was doing the same thing.
“Vampires,” she muttered. “I so don’t need this trouble.”
Pyx slapped a palm across the leather sheath she wore strapped under her left arm. The Sinistari had the ability to allow mortals to only see what they wanted them to see; the sheathed dagger was only for her eyes.
And yet her eyes didn’t stray from her two new marks. The bloodsuckers sent some kind of silent signal back and forth through the nightclub. The one farthest away in the balcony had his eye on a man at the rear of the room—the Fallen one. There were so many supernatural vibrations—vampire to vamp, angel to demon—Pyx had a hard time keeping them straight.
So she turned her focus to the prize. The Fallen wore a green-and-blue plaid kilt, of all things, and was currently advertising virility and sex appeal to the woman who slobbered over him. His dark hair was razored short and finger-combed. A white shirt fell open to reveal muscled abs and chest with a tease of dark hair. His legs were striking only because Pyx had never seen a man in a skirt wearing combat boots, and working the look so freaking well.
Seriously? She loved the diverse range of clothing in this day and age, but even she knew the man had daring.
Pyx could understand the attraction the other women were feeling. It was a new feeling, but a good one that centered in her belly and stirred even lower.
Hmm, all that just from observing the Fallen? A bit unsettling, but she marked it off as part of the job.
Even though she hadn’t had the opportunity to dabble in it yet, lust was one of her favorite sins. Sin fed her kind.
She wasn’t about to starve herself.
Pyx kept one eye on the vampires and another on the angel.
“Lucky bastard got himself a nice mortal costume,” she said. Her cowboy boots clomped along the narrow aisle between tables and bar. “Let’s see how much he likes mine.”
Cooper turned toward the redhead, startled he hadn’t noticed her approach. It was the chick from the dance floor. The same chick who’d boldly tossed back his shots and had sauntered away without so much as a thank-you.
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
