Angel Blood

7- Even Angels Sin (18+)

((Mild spice - 18+))

"Not a chance." I nearly sigh in relief at his words. "You know I don't share."

He shoots Sinclair a crooked grin. "It was worth a try." He examines how I scowl sullenly at both of them, interested at my clear distaste. He's probably used to watching women fall over each other at the chance to fit in Sinclair's arms. "Where'd you find her?"

I hold my tongue. Telling him that I'd mercilessly killed his scumbag crony and tried to do the same to Sinclair would be stupid, even if it would be amusing to see the look of shock on his face.

Instead of answering, Sinclair holds my other arm up like a trophy. It's the same one that's pressed against his chest, hiding the ink that marks me as an angel blood.

Arlo stiffens. "She's one of them?"

Sinclair doesn't seem to share his discomfort. He quirks an easy grin, tracing the detailed cross over my skin with gentle fingers that make goosebumps rise in their wake. "She is."

I'm surprised that he doesn't ask me to take my contacts off to show the golden irises that lay beneath them. He seems to bask in the discomfort that radiates from Arlo.

Arlo reaches out a hesitant hand, smoothing his olive fingers over my skin. I have to grit my teeth to resist leaning forward and biting at them, my gun in my hand again the only thought holding me back.

A shiver works its way over my skin. He looks at me like he wants to steal and display me on the shelf like a shiny gold medal. Like he'd only take me down to use me. Judging from the blend of disgust and lust raging in his gaze, it wouldn't for anything good.

For once, I'm glad to be trapped in Sinclair's grasp.

"How much would you take for her?" He holds my gaze even as he directs his words to my captor.

I tense, stomach sloshing. Here's to hoping Sinclair's reputation of being a greedy bastard is true.

"She's not for sale."

My stomach settles a bit as I relax a notch against Sinclair's chest. Distantly I realize I shouldn't be so relieved, nor should I be leaning into this monster's body as a method of comfort.

"Two million?" He smiles, eyes flickering back to Sinclair. "Three? Name your price, Black."

"This isn't the business we'd agreed on discussing." Sinclair's features darken, his jaw ticking with barely concealed anger. "Don't overstep."

Arlo clears his throat, even as his eyes mirror the same rage festering in Sinclair's. I nearly choke on the thick air between them. "My apologies. Let's start then."

"Goodbye, Arlo."

He stiffens, something murderous flashing across his face. "Excuse me?"

"Fetch yourself a drink. A hot girl. As a matter of fact," he juts his chin toward a familiar head of red hair who watches us enviously from behind the bar. "That one happens to be ready for the taking tonight."

I don't know whether or laugh or gag. I hate the bitch but a part of me wants to vomit in sympathy at the thought of laying with this heinous man.

A look of betrayal flashes across her face, then one of realization as she gathers that this is her punishment. She pushes away the glass of liquor in front of her and sways over, looking as predatory and graceful as a cat before it sinks its claws into its prey.

Amber trails a perfectly manicured hand over his shoulder. "Hi, Mr. Capponi."

After ogling her chest, he shoot us a glance filled with bloodlust. I know what it is, and so does Sinclair—a threat. But unlike me, he seems painfully unconcerned.