Still, he couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Do you think he’s handsome?”
She frowned as though she didn’t understand the question. “I suppose,” she said slowly. “He’s pretty enough.”
Maccus growled. He hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t help himself. The urge to go back and rip the head off one of the few men in the history of existence he might even remotely call a friend was almost too tempting to deny.
She stepped up to him and placed her hands on his chest. “He’s too pretty. I prefer a more rugged man myself.”
“You do?” Keep your damn mouth shut, you idiot.
“I do,” she assured him. “I’ll show you just how much more when we get back to your place.” There was laughter in her eyes, but he didn’t care.
She could be lying, a voice in the back of his head cautioned. How better to kill him than to get him to care and then plunge one of his own daggers into his heart? Even if it wouldn’t physically kill him, her betrayal would end up pushing him firmly into the realm of the dark where he would become a true monster, sentenced to death by both Heaven and Hell.
And if he killed her, the result would be the same.
He was totally fucked with no way out. And considering some of the situations he’d found himself in, it was almost laughable how easily he’d been caught in this trap. Being betrayed by a friend, losing his wings, and being pushed from Heaven—those he’d survived. He’d battled his way out of Hell, fighting demons and Lucifer with a ferocity that had never been witnessed before.
But a female bounty hunter, a former human, would be the one to bring him to his knees.
Only she was as trapped as he was.
There had to be a way out, but damned if he could see it.
“Maccus?” They were standing in the middle of the sidewalk during a power outage. Thankfully it was only a grid and not citywide, and there were lights up ahead.
“Let’s go home.” His apartment had always been a place to live and store his belongings. For the first time, it seemed like a real home and all because he was sharing it with someone. With her.
Morrigan smiled and nodded. “Let’s go home.”
…
So that was his friend, of sorts. She hated the qualifier. Not being able to trust anyone sucked, but she got it. It was how she’d lived since she’d become a hunter. How much worse was it for someone who’d lived as long as Maccus?
And he hadn’t answered her earlier question.
Rather than think about dying, she gave thanks for still being alive. It even gave her a boost that he’d protected her. Not that she’d needed it against the human males. The angel was a different story.
She shivered in spite of the balmy evening.
Asher wasn’t a stereotypical vampire with his long blond hair. He wasn’t pale, either. But he was powerful. It had all but bled from his pores, in spite of his seeming good humor.
And Maccus had been jealous. Of the vampire. It had confused her at first. Then a sense of wonder had settled over her. That had to mean he had some feelings for her, beyond just the sexual chemistry between them. Didn’t it?
Maybe she was spinning dreams that could never manifest, but so what? What was the alternative? Sit and fret? Cry and scream at the universe? Cower? None of those were options.
No matter what went down, she’d slug it out to the very end. But now she was fighting for someone else, too—Maccus. They wanted to hurt him, and they were using her to do it.
When she glanced up, he was watching her. “What?” he asked. It was amazing how quickly she’d gotten used to his abruptness. Where she’d found it off-putting at first, now it was simply part of who he was.
“Do you think—” She broke off, not quite sure how to phrase this.