wanted him, and he was no man to deny them.
Kissing. Ah, kissing! Was there anything finer? He’d kissed dozens in his fortnight upon earth, and had no intention of slowing down his quest for sensory exploration and fulfillment. There were so many varieties of kisses that he felt sure he’d never tire of trying new ways to make a woman squirm and giggle with delight.
He liked the blonde ones with the big breasts. But he also preferred the smart ones who could hold a conversation about something beyond the color of their nail polish or which celebrity was screwing whom.
This one shaking her red-spangled skirt before him looked a bit vacuous and maybe … stoned. He couldn’t understand those who chose to dull the sensory experience with drugs or alcohol. Life was meant to be lived fully and with a clear mind.
He turned and dance-walked his way to the center of the dance floor where he paired up with a redhead whose smile touched his innate desire to flirt. With a shake of her head she tossed her loose hair over a shoulder and curved her body against his to give him a hip-bump.
Nice. But not dressed like the others. She wore masculine clothes, jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and boots. Yet her sinuous movements told Cooper she was all woman.
And she smelled, hmm … like lunch. He’d noticed the same scent wafting from street vendors parked along the main tourist streets edging the river.
Cooper had eaten little since coming to earth. His interest swayed more toward the sensual delights than the succulent. Though the two experiences combined did have their appeal. This woman’s allure and savory scent captivated his desire. Cooper danced as close as he could get to her.
She tipped a smile over her shoulder at him. Wide blue eyes were surrounded by deep ruby hair that glittered under the flashing club lights.
Man, he loved seeing in color now. When he’d served the angelic dominions, earth and all its inhabitants and elements had appeared to him in black and white.
And the woman’s mouth. More rubies there, but he didn’t detect cosmetics on her pale, flawless skin. Her lips were naturally red, as if they’d been kissed soundly.
Tonight, he’d take this one home with him and learn exactly what style of kissing would have her begging him to do more than simply kiss.
“You’re lovely,” he said over the raucous music and shouts to “Rock it!”
She merely smiled and dipped a hip against his, while drawing her fingers down his bare chest.
Cooper could feel her touch all the way through to his spine. Sparkles of energy radiated through him. Life. Damn, it was so good!
With a flirtatious wink, the woman slipped away. Now she danced between two women, their breasts brushing and fingers teasing across exposed skin. Now there was a fascinating touch. Mmm …
Cooper let out a wanting moan, and dipped his head to maintain sight on the redhead until a couple danced before him. He scanned the crowd, but couldn’t spy her lustrous hair or those pouting lips.
Lost her. But he’d find her again. Women liked to tease. The night was young and he was in no hurry. The world was his and he wanted to hug it, suck it all in, and keep it forever.
And drink it. Time for a whiskey break.
Easing his way off the dance floor, Cooper strutted up the nightclub’s open staircase. Each step flashed red as his boot tripped the motion sensors. Twisting a glance over the dance floor below, he slapped a palm to his sweaty abs and nodded, satisfied.
Oh, yes, he’d find the redhead later.
“Whiskey?” the bartender prompted, recognizing Cooper from the last three nights.
“Three shots,” he said. “Line ‘em up.”
When he found a place he liked he returned. But most important, Cooper didn’t feel compelled to be in this particular city. That was a key point. Because the one annoying aspect about the Fallen was that once their feet had touched earth, they were compelled to find their muse.
A muse was a human female, descended from the Merovingian bloodline, whom the Fallen one sought to mate with to then produce a nephilim child, a hideous monster, that once unleashed, would spread chaos across the earth.
Cooper wasn’t into chaos or becoming some baby’s daddy right now. He just wanted to enjoy this exciting and intriguing realm.
How he’d come to earth from his imprisonment in the Ninth Void he had no clue. Someone had summoned him from his many millennia of seclusion.
He appreciated the summons. But he knew only danger waited for him.
Millennia ago, he had agreed to a pact, along with dozens more angels, to fall to earth and mate with its human females. After unfathomable time serving Puriel, the war master of the Power ranks, Cooper had been so ready to fall. Actually, it had been the angel Kadesch who had opened his eyes to humanity.
Juphiel (his angelic name, which he had no intention of using on earth) had fallen from the heavens, but had never seen Kadesch again. He’d only begun to teach mortals on earth his craft—a manner of creating beauty that Cooper still retained, thank the heavens—a short time before a great flood had swept him to the Ninth Void, a silent, cold prison where he’d existed in utter darkness awaiting final judgment for betraying Him.
“No more imprisonment or warring,” he said with a tilt of the shot glass. The whiskey burned down his throat. “I’ll never go back.” He slammed the glass on the bar and gripped the next shot glass. “All I have to do is find my halo and I’ll be home free.”
During an angel’s fall to earth, their halo fell away. Cooper knew if he could find the thing, he could cease this ridiculous quest he’d originally agreed to—a quest to find a muse.
So not going to happen. Because it had all been a lie.
And if what he’d learned the first time he’d walked earth were true, what usually happened to a Fallen immediately following mating with a muse was death. Death delivered by the one creature forged specifically to track the Fallen and slay them—the Sinistari demon.
He’d encountered a Sinistari since arriving on earth. The demons were a difficult kill, but not impossible. Now, Cooper kept one eye over his shoulder.
He would not go out without a fight.
“Not on my watch,” Cooper said, and tilted back the second round.
He growled with satisfaction at the drink’s toffee-malt bite, and eyed the back of the bar where the pool tables queued along the wall. He was familiar with the rules and techniques, but hadn’t attempted the game. He’d win. No sense in trying when he knew the outcome.
Just as he reached for the third shot a feminine hand grabbed the glass and tipped it back in a quick swallow. “Another!” she called, and the bartender appeared with the whiskey bottle. “Man, that stuff is good.”
It was the redhead who wore men’s clothing. She slapped the bar in thanks as the bartender topped off her shot, then tilted it back with more gusto than Cooper had performed.
She winked at him, then sauntered off into the crowd.
