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“Still”—her gaze swept the area—“there’s something sad about someone your size taking on a lady.”
The demon stepped toward her. He was wearing large aviators and he removed them from his face. Ana kept her cool but the truth was, his freaky eyes were unnerving. Everything about him screamed Hollywood from the thick, dark hair atop his head, the classic cheekbones and cleft chin, but those eyes . . .
He smiled, tilted his head as if they were having a Sunday afternoon conversation over coffee, and spoke. “You’re no lady.”
She opened her mouth to retort, intent on keeping him off his game, but his body moved quickly, so fast she didn’t see it. And then he was there, so close she saw flames flickering in his eyes.
“Can you stop that?” she ground out, surrendering to the anger inside.
He arched an eyebrow and she saw interest. “That?” he mimicked.
“The freaky eye thing. I don’t like it.”
The demon laughed; a throaty chuckle that echoed into the night, bouncing off the walls until it surrounded her in a wall of sound. He leaned forward, sniffed along her neck, and twirled a finger around a long piece of her hair.
“You are delicious. I can see why he lusts for you.”
Ana’s eyes narrowed and she took a step back. And then another until she had some space between them. “Who the hell are you?”
He watched her closely, the smile never leaving his face. “Ana, I’m disappointed you don’t recognize me. Though, sadly, any renderings I’ve seen of myself in the human realm are less than flattering.”
Ana’s eyes widened. She noticed the vibrant tattoo along the side of his neck. It was a dragon. She didn’t need to hear anymore. “Samael.”
“Beauty, brains, and apparently strong enough to break through powerful wards put in place by your boyfriend.” Samael’s smile vanished. “Which, I feel the need to point out, wasn’t a very smart thing to do.”
Ana watched the powerful demon warily as he paced a bit, though his eyes never left her.
“You’ve created a problem for me.” Samael shook his head. “I don’t like problems.”
“I’m not leaving until I find Declan.”
“You should not have come here.” He glared at her, his jaw tight. Shit. He was pissed.
“I shouldn’t do a lot of things.” She shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.” Ana knew she sounded flippant, but her mind was racing, searching for a way out. She decided the direct approach might work best. Declan had indicated Samael had given him a serum, something to help him blend in. It was obvious the demon was helping him in some way.
“What’s your part in all of this?”
His hand was at her throat before she could blink and he lifted her into the air, slammed her back against the wall. She grunted at the force of the hit, ignoring the pain in her side as she struggled to breathe.
Desperately she tried to free herself but ceased her efforts after a few seconds. It was no use. He was much too strong.
“You will leave here or you will die.” He spit the words at her and let her fall to the ground.
She was up in an instant, hissing and baring her fangs. Ana was livid. She was sick of men—be they demon, sorcerer, or fucking Seraph—charting her path. A crackle of energy teased the edges of her fingers.
Did she have enough mojo left? Was there only a limited supply?
Declan’s blood had provided an added boost, a bit of magick she’d not expected. She didn’t know the why or how of it, and didn’t care, but she’d used it to escape the hotel room, successfully blasting through the charmed window.
Samael’s grimace softened. He studied her, an unreadable expression on his face. “You would still challenge me?”
“Time’s running out. I need to get to Declan. Can you help me or not?” Ana threw the question out there. What did she have to lose? “He has a much better chance of getting those kids out with my help.”
She watched his face darken, refused to budge when he took the last few steps toward her.
His nostrils flared once more and he leaned down. “You drank from him.” It was a statement, not a question.
She nodded. “He forced me to. Said his blood would mask my scent.” She glared up at him. “Said you supplied the serum.”
