A woman shouldn’t die with that much terror in her eyes. Tanner reached for the bartender, ignored the blood and the growing scent of flowers in the air.

Flowers and f**king angels. You could always smell ’em. No wonder he’d caught that scent mixed with the blood. An angel of death was coming to take the redhead away.

And she didn’t want to go. “Go inside!” Tanner snapped out to Marna as he tried to put pressure on the woman’s wounds. So many wounds. Too many. “Get an ambulance out here! Tell them we need help!”

“Tanner, you know it’s—”

Too late.

He turned his head. Met Marna’s eyes. Saw the glimmer of tears that she couldn’t hide. “She’s not dead yet, so it’s not too late.” He’d fought death before.

Fought, lost.

But still fought.

Marna scrambled to her feet and rushed back inside.

That floral scent deepened. The angel was coming, but now, hell, at least he’d gotten Marna away from the scene.

I don’t want the angel near her.

A tear leaked from the redhead’s eye. “You just have to hold on,” he told her. “Just fight a little longer and—”

Her gaze slid to the left. Widened.

Tanner followed her gaze. While he saw nothing, Tanner felt the distinct chill in the air. They weren’t alone.

He couldn’t see the angel of death walking in that alley, but she could, and the redhead was terrified.

Her hands dug into him as she tried to speak. But with most of her throat gone, there was no way he could understand the grunts and gurgles she made.

More tears fell. Her nails scratched into his skin.

“Stay away from her!” Tanner yelled at the darkness.

Her body was so cold. There was so much blood. Who’d done this to her? Why?

Because of what she knew? What she’d been minutes away from telling them?

Tanner felt the whisper of wind against his skin, and then—

Then she stopped groaning. Stopped crying. Stopped living.

The angel of death had taken her away.

Sonofabitch.

Marna rushed back through the bar. She’d grabbed a waitress and snatched her cell phone to make the nine-one-one call. Telling the dispatcher to come to Hell? Yeah, that had gone over real well. She’d wasted moments arguing with the dispatcher and trying to get her to understand that this wasn’t some prank.

A woman was dying.

Marna threw open the door to the back room, hurried forward, and—

Not alone.

“Why would an angel of death . . .” The voice—that freaking voice that she knew belonged to the blond vampire who’d wanted to drink her before—rose from the shadows as he stepped into the light. “Why would someone like you smell so strongly of fear?”

He glided forward in a movement that was way too fast, putting him between her and that back door.

“You need to get out of my way,” she told him, heart pounding fast from her frantic race through Hell and from her growing fear. “Someone’s dying out there.”

“Someone’s already dead out there.” He inhaled. “That much blood . . . not even a demon like Cadence could survive an attack like that.”

Cadence? Had that been the woman’s name? And he already knew that she was dead? But—

In a blink, he was in front of her. Smiling. Flashing those sharp fangs. “Why would you smell like such sweet fear?” he asked again, eyes narrowing. “Unless you had a reason to be afraid.” His hand lifted toward her neck. “Do you have a reason, angel?”

“I-I don’t want to hurt you.”

He laughed darkly at that. “I don’t think you can.” His tongue slid over the edge of one fang. “If you could, your heart wouldn’t be racing so fast right now.”

Over the centuries, she’d seen firsthand just what sort of violence vampires could unleash. She’d seen the empty shells left of angels—shells discarded after vampires had drained them dry.

Not me.

She shoved out at him as hard as she could. The vamp flew through the air and slammed into the back door. Marna scrambled a few steps away, and her fingers curled around a knife that had been tossed to the floor. She put her hand behind her back, hiding the weapon.

But then he rose too quickly, pretended to brush himself off, and he said, “Interesting. You’re stronger than you look.” One blond brow rose. “But is that all you’ve got?”

No, she had a knife she could drive into his heart. A knife won’t keep a vamp down. “I—”