Very, very scary.

He offered his hand to her.

She was afraid of him. Sam could all but see her fear. Seline climbed onto Sam’s motorcycle, and she tentatively put her arms around his waist. Slow motions, every move so very hesitant, as if she were worried that touching him would be lethal to her.

“Tighter,” he ordered as he kicked away from the curb. They had to clear out of there as quickly as they could. Even the human cops wouldn’t overlook the thunder of gunshots.

Or the dead body that they’d left behind.

But the moment that the human Seline called Alex had risen with his knife and gone for her throat, the guy had been a dead man.

Alex just had to wait a few precious seconds for Sam’s touch to make his heart stop.

Death could be slow. Death could be fast. And when he wanted, Sam could make those last moments hurt. Alex hadn’t been given an easy death. The proof had been in the torment that twisted his face.

Seline’s hands tightened a bit around Sam. The motorcycle raced forward, and the heavy metal body vibrated beneath him.

Seline still wasn’t close enough.

Because of the f**king fear.

Why? She’d known what he was before. He’d told her. She worked for Rogziel. She had to know how dangerous his kind was.

But her eyes had gone so wide when Alex dropped to the ground. Her lips had trembled, and when Sam had reached for her, Seline had pulled back.

She’d begged for his touch just hours before. Now she pulled away from him. Too scared to touch.

His hands tightened around the handlebars.

The wind pushed against them as he swept through the streets.

Were more of Rogziel’s goons following them? Why did the punisher suddenly have such a hard-on for him?

All these years, and now Rogziel decided to focus on him? Right after Az’s fall? No way could that be a coincidence. But if Rogziel wanted to play . . .

Come and get me.

He’d love to rip those wings away for old ’Ziel.

Sam took Seline away from the city. He raced across old railroad tracks and slid beneath sagging bridges that looked like time had forgotten them. When they went off the road, Seline gasped and clutched him tighter.

Finally.

He didn’t stop until the sounds of the city were no more. Then, when he was sure he could see any hunter coming after him, he killed the engine.

The swamp surrounded him again. Twisting trees, heavy heat.

She immediately pulled away and jumped off the bike. Jaw clenching, he followed her.

Seline put a good five feet between them. “You . . . you . . .” Her hand gestured in the air, and she seemed to struggle for words. He didn’t help her. He just watched and waited while the anger grew inside of him.

Afraid to touch me.

“It’s true,” she finally said, a faint furrow between her brows. “You can really—”

“You’re a succubus. You use your body as a lure to drain power from men.” He made the words deliberately harsh, and she flinched.

“Dammit, that’s not—”

“You work for a punisher who spends his days doling out vengeance. You knew I was a Fallen.” He stalked toward her. She backed up a step.

His eyes narrowed. Was she trying to piss him off even more? “Everything you know, everything you’ve seen . . .” he grated. “And what? You thought I was lying?”

She swallowed and shook her head slowly. “N-no.” The sun spilled behind her, lighting her hair, making her skin shine and making her look even more gorgeous. “I’ve never seen . . .” Her voice was husky and stroked right over his groin. “You killed him with just a touch.”

And he knew demons who were strong enough to kill with a thought. Evolution had made the Other stronger, and for some, too hard to kill. Death could be a challenge some days.

Her chin rose. “Why haven’t you killed me?”

He lunged forward, knowing the move would look like a blur to her eyes. A handy Fallen side effect—near super speed. Not that it made up for having his wings burned away as he plummeted, but . . .

Sam caught her arm and pulled her close. Tension held her body taut. More fear. He hated fear in a woman’s eyes. “I didn’t fall yesterday.” No, so many centuries before. “I’ve learned how to”—he brought his face close to hers—“control myself,” Sam finished with his lips inches from hers.

The Fall had been brutal. He’d woken, naked, broken with his mind torn open. It had taken weeks for him to remember who—what—he was.

No control. Not then. At first, he’d been like a wounded animal. More than ready to turn on anyone or anything who came too close.