with a lead on the bounty’s location. She’d stumbled onto Clem’s path. Another coincidence?
“I probably won’t have another recovery for you for a couple of days at the earliest.” Then Emmett was gone and the demon with him. Morrigan was glad she no longer had to personally return the prisoners, as she’d had to for the first five years until she’d passed her probationary period. Now, they preferred her topside rather than languishing below for an undetermined time while the bounty was processed. The red tape and processing procedures were… Well, they were hell.
She rubbed her hands over her face and rolled her shoulders. Even though she needed little sleep, she was tired, but it was more a weariness of the soul rather than the body.
A siren blared in the distance, getting closer with each passing second. The guy upstairs must have called for help. She was sorry about his finger, but he shouldn’t have tried to stab her.
Blood stained her clothes and caked under her fingernails. The stench of sulfur was pungent. Humans tended to notice such things. A shower and a change of clothes were a priority.
She could wipe the blood from her leather pants and jacket, but the tank top was done for. She wasn’t even going to try to get it clean. Easier to toss it and buy a new one.
Morrigan straightened her shoulders and walked away from the sirens and light, letting the darkness swallow her whole.
She’d barely made it around the back of the building when the hairs on her arms stirred. The weight of the gun in her hand offered reassurance and steadied her.
“Who the hell is there?” She wasn’t in the mood for this. Not tonight. She’d meet her target and lost him.
Lucifer won’t be pleased.
“Is your bounty taken care of?” Maccus slipped from the darkness like he was a part of it. She’d swear it reached out to caress his skin as he stepped forward.
And maybe she needed a nap, some food, and a few days away from hunting.
“Yeah, he’s taken care of.”
Before she could blink, he was in front of her, moving faster than the eye could see. “Good,” he said.
Then he kissed her.
Chapter Three
She tasted sweet, like a sugary candy he’d had once from a small shop outside of Paris. Addictive.
He’d told her his real name.
Why the hell had he done that? Maccus was the name he used on his human identification, which was so necessary these days. For some reason, when he’d created this particular identity, he’d used his real name. And he never told anyone his real name. Sure, Gabriel and the other angels knew it. So did Lucifer.
Last name Fury—chosen because it suited him. For so long, his fury had been all that had kept him alive.
Among demons, paranormals, and a select group of humans, he was known as the Hunter. A name that was feared.
Hunter was an assassin for hire. There was a slight risk she would recognize his name, realize who he was, and run. Then he’d have to chase her. That would only waste time.
She yanked her head back. “What the hell are you doing?” The muzzle of her gun pressed against his stomach. Would she shoot him? It was worth the risk.
He dipped his head back down for another taste of her. Lust surged through his veins. Excitement warred with caution. He was tasting life. That’s what he was doing.
Her weapon slid away from his midsection, and she gripped his jacket with her free hand. A groan escaped her throat.
Touch was something he avoided at all costs. But he’d do damn near anything to stroke every inch of Morrigan, to have her hands on his body.
She’d bewitched him with her strength and courage, her calm nature, and her long, lean body.
Cupping the back of her head with one of his hands, he held her steady as he mapped out the shape and texture of her lips. They were soft and warm, everything it seemed the woman herself wasn’t. She was a warrior, a fighter,