Demon Angel

another."
    His voice had deepened over the years. Lower, with a rough timbre. Pleasure rushed through her, tinged with delicious irony. "I can't."
    The human form that she'd hidden from him for years was now the only one Hugh would see. It wouldn't be long before he deduced that she wasn't everything she had once been.
    She sobered quickly. "No demon would take on this appearance, Hugh. Mine is not a popular visage Below."
    He remained silent, returning her comment with a flat stare. Finally he looked away from her, and turned toward the macabre arrangement on the ground.
    "Two nosferatu," she said. "Last night."
    "No blood," he murmured, then glanced at her sharply. "Two?"
    She nodded, thinking about the blood. If the ritual she knew had been performed, it would have been everywhere: coating the remains, soaked into the ground, congealed into puddles. "Together, in the northern end of the park." A grin flashed over her lips. "I killed them both."
    "Good," he said softly.
    She shrugged. "'It was fun." Hearing a pair of bicycles along the path, she eased into a crouch.
    His gaze slid down to her neck, and she knew he wouldn't miss the faint pink of healing skin at the front of her throat. His fingers clenched again. "You were hurt."
    The concern and anger in his tone that he tried to hide, but couldn't, sent a thrill down her spine. She grinned. "I knew you still cared."
    Humor lit his eyes, but it quickly faded and he stood in silence, watching her. He used the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, revealing a tight, rippling abdomen and smooth golden skin above the low-slung waistband of his sweats.
    "I thought you'd be fat," Lilith said, her gaze fixed on his stomach.
    The corners of his lips twitched. "I thought I had slain you."
    "You did. My father brought me back."
    He frowned, his brows drawing together. He swallowed before he said, "I cut through your heart."
    And it would have killed any other demon—Lilith had thought it would kill her, too. "Imagine my surprise as well. Perhaps it is one of the benefits of being Lucifer's creation, rather than one of his brethren—you ought to have removed my head." No amount of blood would have revived her if she couldn't drink it.
    "I should have," he agreed.
    Had he not bothered, assuming that the injury through her heart had been enough—or had he not been able to mutilate her form in that way? But she had no time to ask.
    "There are two bicyclists coming. Get down or they'll see you."
    He turned toward the path. "I need to ask them if they have a cell phone, and call the police."
    Growling low in her throat to capture his attention, she darkened her skin to crimson, and curving horns sprouted from her head. She licked her lips with a forked tongue. "Get down, or I'll let them see me."
    He barely spared her a glance. "You told me the same thing in Paris, after the revolution. You were bluffing then, and you are now."
    If her skin hadn't been red, he might have seen the blush spreading across her cheeks. She hated recycling her tricks; being caught doing it was worse. Not that it was exactly the same—her threat in Paris had been intended to blackmail him into bed—but it had been a ruse he'd easily foiled by calling her on it.
    But circumstances were different.
    She stood. The bicyclists were still out of sight, past a deep curve in the path.
    Hugh eyed her with amusement. Apparently, he thought she would drop to the ground at the penultimate moment. "Your wings will add authenticity."
    "My suit is real." She grimaced, thinking of the holes her wings would tear in the fabric. Her charcoal three-piece pantsuit had been tailored to hide the bulge of her gun, and lay immaculately over her lanky form. "And my salary is pathetic. I don't want to buy another."
    "Your salary?" He shook his head, as if to clear sudden cobwebs. "You have a job?"
    "Everything has changed since you've Fallen." She took a deep breath. "Give me five minutes, Hugh. Then you can call the police. There's more going on here than just two nosferatu killing a human."
    His brows rose. "No attempt to bargain? My time for yours?"
    "Bargains don't have the same allure as they used to," she said. Feeling him waver, she added, "Please."
    He'd become soft, Hugh thought as he sank down onto his heels. A murder had been committed, he'd found a demon hovering over the kill, and he was letting her convince him to wait because she'd said "please."
    That word alone should have shaken him out of the