Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 131708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“I’m kind of partial to one of his brothers,” Mia went on, idly fussing with her tight braid. She and Ella were similar in many ways. Same eye color. Same hair. Same tall build. But Mia had enviable curves, longer lashes, and her eyes were slanted rather than wide like Ella’s.
Knowing her sister’s type, Ella guessed, “The blond who happens to be the club’s VP?”
Mia smiled. “It’s his eyes, mostly—they grab hold.”
Unlike his president’s, Dice’s eyes were a very pale blue that were no less striking.
Ella tipped back her bottle and gulped down some beer. “All the Black Saints are pretty to look at.”
They sure got around, because she often spied a couple of them hovering here or there—including in the Underground. Which was surprising, since the subterranean location was generally exclusive to demons. It seemed that Viper had managed to form an alliance with Knox Thorne, the demon who founded and owned it—the billionaire was exceptionally powerful, but no one seemed to know just what breed of demon he was.
Another thing that surprised her was Viper purchasing the pool hall. This place wasn’t exactly a money maker, though it had become more popular since the club took it over. Hence why it was currently on the rowdy side. The sounds of the tournament playing on the TV blended with the chatter, laughter, cursing, cheering, balls smacking balls, beer bottles clinking, and gaming machines bleeping and blooping.
Leaning forward, Mia planted her lower arms on the table. “I’d give you shit for sneaking looks at Viper—don’t think I haven’t noticed you do it—but I figure it would be criminal to not admire someone that hot, even if they are an angel.” She paused. “Do you think he could really be an archangel like the rumors say?” she asked, lowering her voice. “Maybe even one of the Seven?”
Pulling a face, Ella set down her bottle. “I do think he may be an archangel, what with how much power he oozes. But one of the Seven? Surely none who’d risen so high in the ranks would want to fall.”
“Maybe he was kicked out of the Seven and, ultimately, out of heaven itself. His brothers could have followed him in a show of support, or maybe they were kicked out, too.”
“It’s possible, I guess.”
“Considering how often he glances your way, I think we can safely conclude that he seriously wants to nail you.”
“So aptly put.” Ella probably shouldn’t like that she might have caught his attention. Since almost the beginning of time, angels and demons had been foes. There was a lot of ugly history there. More, there had been instances where angels who’d regretted falling had subsequently killed random demons in a bid to please those in the upper realm and, thus, earn their way back up there.
A few of her ancestors had been victims of such crimes, so incantors generally weren’t among the demons who flapped a dismissive hand about it all. But Ella personally saw no sense in holding crimes against people who didn’t commit them. She certainly wouldn’t let it stop her from admiring Viper from afar. He was such a visual wonder …
“But even if you’d be willing to look past the fact that he’s one of the Fallen, Luka would never let such a person near you,” Mia went on. “He’s hyper protective of you.”
That was because he and Ella were anchors. Demons came in pairs, meaning they all had a psychic mate who would anchor them and their inner entity, ensuring said entity never turned rogue. A demon gone rogue was no joke, and they were always hunted down to be executed.
“Is Luka any closer to identifying the mugger who flattened you with a psychic punch?” asked Mia.
“Nope, and it’s making him crazy.” Ella couldn’t be of any real help, because she hadn’t seen her attacker’s face—he’d worn a mask.
“What did Luka make of the note you received?”
Ah, yes, the little note that someone had stuck under her windscreen wiper: Let sleeping dogs lie.
Such a silly, innocuous phrase. But there’d been power embedded in the ink. She hadn’t noticed it at first. When she’d absently gone to read the note aloud, her magick had leaped up to spark the air like an alarm.
On taking a closer look at the note, Ella had spotted the glimmer of power in the black ink. A snare. Saying the words aloud would have activated it—she knew that much. But she had no clue what would have happened.
Its purpose could have been anything. To make her sleep. Make her hungry. Make her sad. Make her smell bad.
The possibilities were endless, so she had no idea whether the author of the note meant her real harm or was just playing some weird prank on her.
If the snare had been a work of magick, she could have read its intent. But it was infused with power—one she didn’t recognize and couldn’t seem to unravel.