figured out why she was important enough for Gabriel to put out a hit on her and why Lucifer himself had tasked her with killing him.
“There’s no such thing as coincidence,” he told her.
“I know.” Her voice was soft and accepting. “So, where does that leave us?”
He gripped her chin in his hand and tilted her head back. She didn’t fight him. A part of him wished she would.
“Together.” Frustration and longing burned inside him. Needing a release for the volatile emotions churning inside him, he slammed his mouth down on hers. She didn’t flinch, taking all he gave her and demanding more.
It both pleased and infuriated him.
If he could, he’d go back twenty-four hours, become the cold, unfeeling assassin he’d been for thousands of years, the man both Heaven and Hell had made him.
Something about Morrigan and her situation touched the tiny sliver of decency that still existed inside him. Maybe that was it. Maybe killing her would push him over the edge, make him truly a monster.
But why her? Why was she the catalyst?
What am I missing?
When he raised his head, her lips were moist, her skin warm, and her eyes held the look of a woman well loved.
“Let’s go out for breakfast.” If they stayed here, they’d end up in bed. He was close to grabbing her and carrying her back there. But he had questions that needed answers, possibilities to ponder and consider. And he couldn’t do any of it on an empty stomach.
That shook her back to her normal state in a hurry. “Out?” She pointed toward the window. “Out there?” She jabbed a finger at the bloody symbols on the wall. “What was the point of that if we’re just going to hunt up trouble?”
“That was to keep them out of my home. I hate visitors.” When she winced, he wished he could call back his words. A first for him. “But until we know more, we’re in the dark about why two of the most powerful supernatural beings have set us up to kill each other.”
She slowly nodded. “I don’t have to like it, but you’re right. Can I trust you?”
With some reluctance that he shook his head. “No more than I can trust you. We both want to survive. That means one of us has to die.” He hoped it didn’t come down to that. Normally, he had no problems killing. The creatures he’d slain over the span of his life had deserved to die. He didn’t think Morrigan fit into that category.
But what did he really know about her?
She had a story, a good one, but how much of it was real? He’d have to do some digging to find out more about her and her sister. They could be working together.
She was his lover and potential executioner. Best to keep her as close as possible.
…
Less than an hour later, Morrigan stepped out onto the sidewalk with Maccus by her side. She didn’t want to think about him as Hunter. That guy was the bogeyman and used to scare even the strongest of demons.
Maccus was the sexy hot lover who’d blown her mind with pleasure.
He was once again dressed all in black—jeans that clung to his thighs, a T-shirt so tight it might as well have been painted on, and the same leather jacket he’d worn last night. Sexy and dangerous were the best way to describe him.
She, on the other hand, was clean but grungy. She’d scrubbed the blood from her pants and jacket, but her top had been a write-off. She wore one of Maccus’s shirts, which swallowed her smaller frame and hung below her jacket.
Clothes were secondary to her. She never left home without her edged weapons and gun. A girl had to have her priorities straight.
“Where are we going?” It bothered her that she had no idea. In her experience, life worked better with a plan.
Kayley’s face popped into her head. Nope. She couldn’t let her mind go there. She had to focus.