Death's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels (8 page)

Sophie slowly turned toward the owner of the voice she knew far too well. Azrael stood on the stone steps of the aisle at the end of the row, two seats away. His immensely tall, broad form effectively blocked out the rest of the world. Sophie’s breath caught, her lips parted, and though her mind was screaming, not a single sound escaped her lips.

Chapter Six

A
zrael smiled, flashing perfect white teeth that sported incisors slightly longer than the norm. Some people naturally looked like that, he knew, but on him it looked different enough that he didn’t smile often. On him, it seemed to fit too perfectly and served only to reinforce the otherworldly impressions people often had when looking at him.

He was a starkly charismatic individual. He was taller than anyone he knew, save perhaps Samael. His voice could literally mesmerize. He was also uncommonly, almost painfully handsome. He wasn’t certain why the Old Man had seen fit to bother with such a thing while simultaneously making him a vampire. It was like the curse of Beethoven, who created the most beautiful music in the world and couldn’t hear it. What good was a beautiful face when placed on a monster?

But Sophie didn’t seem to mind the hint of fang he exposed. In fact, as he brushed her mind, unable to keep himself from drawing nearer to her in any way possible, he was surprised to find that she found it attractive.
My God
,
she thought,
he really does look like a vampire.

This was the second time she had thought such a thing. If he’d been capable of choking, he would have done so the first time her mind had muttered the impression. Hearing it now had nearly as strong an effect on him. Sophie wasn’t repulsed by vampires. And the idea that he resembled one was appealing to her.

Of course, Azrael was no fool. A lot of girls believed they would enjoy the company of a vampire—if vampires existed. In reality, he knew they would cower or scream or run, or most likely all three. Still . . . he found himself hoping.

“Sophie Bryce, right? The maid of honor?” he asked, his smile utterly disarming. He’d had millennia to practice it.

Sophie blinked and he read her thoughts. She was desperately trying to find her head in the wake of his sudden presence. She’d been torturing herself over the last few days, and he knew it. He’d watched her every night. Listened to her. He knew damn well that she was drawn to him—and that she hated herself for it.

He sensed it when a slight pain twinged up her arm and Sophie realized that her friend was holding her tight. Taylor’s fingers curled into Sophie’s forearm in utter distraction, her hazel eyes glued to Azrael. He knew she couldn’t help it and wasn’t aware of what she was doing, but the fact that she’d brought his archess even the slightest discomfort was difficult for Az to ignore. It upset him.

And with practiced control, he tamped down the anger.

Sophie, on the other hand, appeared to be glad for the pain. It shot through the dazed fog that Az’s appearance had caused. It also cleared her senses enough to allow her to pull her arm out of Taylor’s grip, clear her throat, and say, “Yes.” He tried not to smile when her voice cracked halfway through the single syllable. She cleared her throat some more and forced a smile to her lips. “That’s me.” She was so fucking cute with half of her glorious golden locks tucked up underneath that Penguins cap. Wisps of hair fell about her face, framing it and caressing it the way he wanted to.

He chuckled softly, watching her carefully to gauge the effect his laugh had on her. Sophie’s gold eyes brightened, her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed ever so slightly. Az’s monster reared its head and he felt his vision begin to heat up. If he wasn’t careful, his eyes would begin to glow. “We never got the chance to actually meet the other night,” he told her, forcing himself to continue with the charade.

“No,” she agreed, relieved that she was finally finding her voice. “We didn’t.”

He tilted his head to one side and slid his gaze from hers to regard her friends. He needed to look away—just for a moment. Long enough to get himself under control once more. He slowly scanned the faces of her companions—and then stopped on the pair of men who sat behind them.

A quick scan of their minds told him they were recent graduates of Carnegie Mellon University. The one on the right was the son of a wealthy factory owner here in the city. His name was Richard. And he’d been thinking all sorts of biblical things about Sophie that night.

Azrael grew very still and something dark flickered across his face. He knew it was there; he knew he was failing to hide his sudden fury. But he barely cared.

Richard fell back into the curve of his seat and swallowed hard as the blood drained from his face. Below him, Sophie cleared her throat, at once drawing Azrael’s attention. She slowly stood and turned to face him. “Az, these are my friends, Taylor and Emily.” She gestured toward them and they smiled nervously but politely, nodding in his direction.

Emily’s and Taylor’s eyes were still a little glazed at his presence, so Az allowed some of his vampiric influence to snake around and through the girls, easing them into a more comfortable state of relaxation.

It worked like a charm. Within seconds, Taylor was smiling easily and standing to greet him properly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, extending her hand.

“Likewise,” Az agreed, and with a slight bow, accepted the offered hand of Taylor and then Emily, who quickly followed suit.

While he shook hands, Sophie’s thoughts echoed through Az’s mind.

She couldn’t believe that her friends weren’t guessing he was the Masked One. It seemed so obvious to her now that she knew his secret. Everything about him screamed the kind of rock star charisma that it took to hold millions of fans rapt.

Meanwhile, Sophie’s gaze traveled over Azrael’s form, and he tried not to visibly crow with the triumph he felt when she shamelessly took in the way the black button-up shirt under his sport coat and trench coat stretched taut across the muscles of his chest. She was particularly fond of the curve of his neck where it met his shoulder.

Azrael released Emily’s hand, straightened again, and heard Sophie’s heart rate speed up.

He looked up to see that her sunshine eyes were glassy with unabashed desire. And, as if it would hide the way her mouth watered for him, she had pressed her bottom lip between two perfect white teeth. Azrael’s gaze locked on the plump lip. He quickly slipped his hands into the pockets of his trench coat as they tightened into fists at his sides, and his nails began to cut into his palms. He imagined her pressing hard enough with her teeth to draw blood.

If she did . . . it would all be over.

“Juliette mentioned you live in Pittsburgh,” he said, trying to break through not only his tension but hers. “I’d forgotten.” His tone was gentle, personal. He knew that to her, it was as if they were the only two in the arena.

“For now,” she told him. She didn’t want to bore him with the fact that she would be there for only two more days, but he was well aware.

“But what are you doing here?” she asked, honestly curious. It seemed quite a coincidence that she had never seen him before in her life—and then, suddenly, she’d seen him twice, on two different continents, and within the space of a week. She wasn’t stupid; she was wary.

That was okay with him. He had a story and he would use it, but even it was too much of a secret for him to share with her friends. Az glanced at Taylor and Emily and smiled an easy, even somewhat shy smile. “It’s a personal matter, actually,” he said. “However . . .” He paused, turned, and glanced up toward the private suites above them. His band awaited him in one of them; they had a bird’s-eye view of the entire arena from their vantage point. He knew because he’d been watching Sophie from it all night.

He also knew that Sophie had never been in one of those suites herself, and he was hoping she’d be tempted enough by what he was about to offer that he could pull her away from her companions, at least for a little while. “Second period will begin in a few minutes,” he said, looking back down at her and scorching her once more with a smoldering look. “And there’s plenty of room in our suite for another guest.” He chanced another glance at the men seated behind Sophie—especially Richard—and was smugly satisfied when the young man looked as though he wanted to piss himself. “Perhaps you would care to join me?” he asked, turning his gaze back on his archess.

He could hear her blood rushing through her veins. He was scaring her and thrilling her at the same time. She was finding it hard to think.

He wasn’t opposed to working with that; he had no desire to stand here and play the good guy much longer, anyway.

A gentle push of his power, and it surrounded Sophie. In a few moments, she not only found it difficult to think, she found it impossible. Seconds ago, she’d had a thousand reasons why she should stay away from Azrael. But just then, all of those reasons—and in fact, reason
itself
—fled from her consciousness and she found herself saying, “Yes.” She’d barely whispered it, but it was enough.

Azrael’s smile broadened.

Taylor, still under Azrael’s calming influence, turned to Sophie with her own beaming smile. “Way to go, Soph! You get to watch your last game at this arena from a
suite
! There’s no better view of the ice, girl!” She got up at once and stepped out into the aisle beside Azrael so that Sophie could get out.

Sophie stood slowly, nervously, and stepped into the aisle beside him. Az closed in on her, barely managing to rein in his power so that it didn’t instantly overwhelm her. If he’d wanted to, he could have made everyone but the vampires in the arena pass out with it. It was roiling beneath his surface, begging to be released. He could have subjugated Sophie’s mind. With effort, that is. She was an archess and therefore would be more difficult to control than a human. But if he’d really wanted to, he could have done it. And then he could have taken her into his arms and shot through the roof of the arena. He could have used a door in the arena to transport them to any other location on Earth. Or he could have simply forced her to pull back her hair and expose her throat to him so that he could sink his fangs into her and drink her in once and for all.

He could have done a thousand powerful things with the supernatural forces that raged through him in that moment, but they would all be overkill, and by some fortuitous twist of fate, he managed not to do any of them.

Instead, he calmly gestured to the stairs that led back into the communal part of the arena and the elevators that would take them to the suites. “Shall we?”

Sophie nodded and made her way up the aisle ahead of him. He followed so close behind her that he knew she could still feel him there, eating up her personal space with his big, bad darkness. Again, he brushed her mind. She was confused by him, and he wasn’t sure he didn’t like that. It was a delicious feeling to be wreaking havoc on a mind like hers. A body like hers.

It was also frightening, because he realized that he wanted to do it more. She was awakening a dangerous part of him. It was an aspect he didn’t recognize. It was a touch cruel. Decidedly wicked. Wholly selfish and hungry.

As he followed her through the archway that led to the elevators beyond, Azrael nodded almost imperceptibly to a vampire who was dressed in the uniform of an usher and politely helping a couple with children to their seats. The vampire nodded back, just as imperceptibly, his starkly colored eyes flashing a respectful glow for a fraction of an instant. The vampire had acknowledged his king.

There were several more like him spaced throughout the arena. They were there by order of Lord Azrael—to protect one very special woman.

Azrael came up beside Sophie then and gently took her by the arm to lead her toward the elevators. She wouldn’t know the way from there on in, and he longed for any excuse to touch her. “This way,” he said as they approached the elevator and the doors automatically opened.

Two floors up, his fellow band members were enjoying the hockey game from suite one, which provided what was possibly the best view of the arena in the entire house. Sophie wouldn’t be expecting to walk into a room with all of Valley of Shadow present. It was sure to throw her and probably overwhelm her if he didn’t warn her first.

He had to smile at that thought because it might be a shocking revelation, but it was nothing compared to the fact that each member of Valley of Shadow was a vampire. Not that he planned to tell Sophie that. At least, not anytime soon.

Az had turned all of his band mates at one time or another, and again, each for their own special reason. They hadn’t been his band mates at the time, of course. Uro, the guitarist, was from Egypt. Az had met him there only a few years after Azrael had first arrived on the planet. Uro had been a prince among his people, chosen for his incredible height and beauty. He was Azrael’s first and oldest turned vampire. Mikhail, the keyboardist, was turned in Russia in the year 1570. Rurik, the bass guitarist, was of Viking descent and Az had pulled him from the jaws of mortality at the turn of the millennium, in the year 918. The drummer, Devran, was Turkish. He’d become a vampire in 1687, during one of many Russo-Turkish wars that took place over the centuries.

Az had never positioned himself as their king. Rather it was something about a created vampire’s makeup that demanded he give his respect to the one who had turned him. And because all vampire blood in existence could be traced back to Azrael, they thought of him as their sovereign and treated him accordingly. They were all well aware of who Sophie Bryce was and what she meant, not only to Azrael, but to them, too.

A king needed a queen. As far as most of them were concerned, it was about time.

They also knew that Azrael was the Angel of Death—and that Sophie was his archess. This made her more precious than any human could possibly comprehend. As a vampire, each member of Azrael’s undead empire was forced to live in darkness and hide a very big secret. Should any of them ever be lucky enough to be presented with a being capable of both lifting the weight of that secret off their shoulders and figuratively bringing them out of that eternal darkness, they would fight to the death to keep that being. They understood all too well.

“So why are you here?” she asked, just as he’d been about to warn her about his band mates. It gave him just the opening he needed.