A soft whistle carried over the line as Cole made the connection. “The drug dealer?” Even though he was human, Moorecroft had been able to make some of the Other nervous. “What’d she do to piss him off?”

She killed his best friend and turned Moorecroft over to the cops. Set him up and walked away. If her story was true, Seline didn’t play nice. Fair enough. Neither did he. Nice didn’t usually enter his vocabulary. “Find out, and see if any hits have been put on her.” In this city, a strong demon could make anyone talk. Cole was strong and very good at his job. “Pass the word that I’m the one looking for the information.” The Other world was all about exchanging favors, and a lot of people owed him.

I’ll collect from them all. He always did, sooner or later. “Write this down,” Sam ordered, and he rattled off the license plate number of the black van he’d spotted. “I want to know who owns this van, and I want to know before the sun comes up.”

“Boss, just what the hell is happening?”

His gaze was still on the staircase. “I’m trying to decide if I’ve got a victim in my house.” Victim or . . .

Predator.

“I’ll call you back by dawn.” Cole’s voice was abrupt, and Sam didn’t doubt the demon’s word. Cole was still busting ass as he tried to prove just how useful he could be.

Demons. Always out to prove themselves. When would they get it? It didn’t matter how “good” they pretended to be, they’d always be hated. Always.

Monsters were always feared.

And they were sure as hell not trusted.

Sam ended the call and slowly climbed the stairs. He had another room ready across the hall from Seline’s. The better to keep an eye on her. She wouldn’t move without him hearing. If she decided to pay him a little late-night visit, he’d be ready—whether that visit was for sex or something far less pleasurable and far more sinister.

Don’t trust her.

He knew better than to trust any demon, especially an unknown quantity like her. Maybe he should have just let her die in that alley, but—

Not her.

He’d seen enough women on the ground, with blood spreading like wings beneath them. When he’d heard her scream, the rage had burst inside of him, and he’d been at Seline’s side before he even realized what he was doing.

He’d taken the knife for her. Bled for her. What would she do for him? He’d find out.

Sam hesitated near her door. He could hear no sounds from inside her room. She hadn’t balked at being brought into the middle of nowhere, but then, if her story was true, she was hiding from a killer. Maybe being tucked away in the middle of a swamp was just where she wanted to be.

Maybe not.

His fingers curled around the doorknob. He twisted lightly. Locked. Sam almost smiled. Like a locked door would keep him out. If he wanted in her bed, nothing would keep him away.

But though he did want Seline, now wasn’t the time for f**king. Screwing a demon with unknown powers would be a great way for him to get killed. No, better wait until he knew more.

Just a few hours until dawn. He went into his room, stripped, and hit the bed. Maybe he’d get lucky and catch two hours of sleep. Maybe three. Then a new day would start, and the hunting would begin—hunting for the man after Seline and—more important—for his brother.

Because Sam knew Az was close. After centuries, Az had finally gotten his lily-white ass kicked out of heaven. How does it feel to fall? Payback was going to be hell. He’d make sure of that.

Sam closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and tried to shove the past away. For once, he’d like to dream of something other than death and fire. Was that so much to ask? Just one time.

His breath eased out. As he drifted into sleep, the fire came.

As always, it burned, searing his wings away and charring his flesh as he fell from the sky.

With her eyes still closed, Seline smiled as she felt Sam drift into sleep.

Time to take a walk into his dreams. Unlike others of her kind, proximity mattered to her. The closer her prey, the easier it was for her to slip into his dreams.

Her heartbeat slowed. Her being centered completely on him. Sam. Then, slowly, he came into focus in her mind.

Sweat dotted his skin—naked, strong flesh—and he twisted against the dark covers on his bed. Faint lines appeared between his brows and a growl broke from his lips.

It looked like he was in pain. Poor killer. Not having a nice dream, huh, Sam?

“I can make the pain stop,” she whispered.

His eyes opened. Flames danced around her for a moment. She could actually feel the heat on her flesh. Her kind always had such powerful, incredibly vivid dreams. This time, the dream wasn’t really hers. Not really his, either.