CHAPTER 14
The hunt had been fruitless. Either the vampires hid themselves well, or they were tracking him while staying cleverly hidden and snickering behind cupped hands.
He couldn’t pick up their vibrations, as Pyx was capable of doing. Nor could he sniff them out. He’d returned to the rooftop and watched the church for most of the day. Just outside the doors a painting crew had begun setting up ladders and scaffolding, obviously to work on the building next door where thick strips of gray paint were peeling off.
Cooper had not felt so ineffective in a long time.
When he’d served the angelic ranks he had done his job well. Too well. But at least he’d accomplished something.
Weird how he could consider murder and smiting an accomplishment. Truly, he was so far from humane, he might never deserve a soul.
Striding toward the one spot in this entire city that gave him comfort, Cooper walked through the white iron gate and seated himself before at a small table outside the café.
Sophia brought him a coffee and a hot cinnamon roll dripping with honey butter. She wore a ruffle-sleeved white shirt today that revealed her slender arms. But though the sigil on his abdomen was humming, it wasn’t the sigil on Sophia’s forearm that caught Cooper’s eyes.
No, much as he tried to keep his eyes from her face and remain unconnected, Sophia’s deep red lipstick beckoned his attention.
She smiled at him, then rubbed a palm along her arm, the one she’d tied a pretty black bow around right about where he’d seen the sigil. “You like our coffee, monsieur?”
“Coffee? Oh, yes.” And leave it at that. It was a good thing he’d not told her his name. The less personal, the better.
Why’d he come here? He knew it was wrong.
Because you were compelled.
No. Really? Damn, he should leave. Right now.
He was thinking about moving. He wasn’t going to stare at those red lips. He would not. Red lips made him think of kissing. Kissing made him think of touching. Touching made him think—
He grabbed the cream pitcher and poured some in his coffee. Pyx. Pyx, Pyx, Pyx. Yes, put the demon into your thoughts to keep from more dangerous wiles.
“You work here every day, Sophia?”
“Oui, except Saturdays. That’s my day to study at the Louvre.”
“Ah? What are you studying?”
“Renaissance art.”
“You a painter?”
“No, just a fan. But I do some sketching.”
“I love the paintings, myself. I’ve been to the museum a few times since arriving in Paris. Could stare at the Mona Lisa for hours.”
“La Joconde was so sad.”
“You think?” He knew differently. An angel could read a painting as if he were tapping in to the artist’s mind. “I suspect the painter was more angry with his subject that day over her secret happiness.”
“Really?” She sat on the chair across from him. Her dark eyes glittered.
Cooper’s eyes went to the black ribbon. Her fingers absently moved over it, scratching lightly. She seemed unaware of the move.
“The Mona Lisa was secretly happy about something?” she asked. “There is her enigmatic smile, but that she was happy is such a common device. What is your theory? Did they have an affair, she and da Vinci?”
Wrong move, Cooper. Avoid the muse, remember? Don’t engage with her. It can only end badly. Where had gone thoughts of the demon?
“Well, or so I suppose. It’s a guess.” The truth, but he didn’t want to explain that he could read the artist’s thoughts from the art they’d created.
She ran her tongue along her upper lip. How’s a man supposed to look away from that? All his blue angel blood rushed to Cooper’s crotch. He was thankful for the linen tablecloth hanging over his lap.
Sophia’s perfume caressed his skin, skimming his lips, cheeks and eyelids. Something floral with a taint of alcohol. He didn’t mind it at all. Could lap it up and suck it in…
Control yourself. You will not attempt to have sex with this woman. You. Will. Not.
“Was that your girlfriend you were with the other day?”
Her out-of-the-blue question startled him from the sensual ocean currently drowning him. He gripped the imaginary life preserver, relieved for the rescue.
“I don’t have girlfriends,” he muttered. A charming smile curved before he could curb his flirtatious nature.
He thought it wiser to take a sip of coffee than to look up again, because he’d noticed that tiny second button was undone on her shirt. And wow, did she seem to stand out from the entire world. It was as if she were in hi-definition and the rest of the café, the sky and the street, faded into a blurry background.
The black ribbon at her forearm, tied in a perfect bow, stole his attention. What lay beneath marked her sure death. “New fashion?”
“I wear it sometimes.” She blushed. Actually blushed.
Oh, those rosy cheeks warmed his heart and hands, and—Blood flow alert! Soon you won’t be able to think, man.
The muse stroked the black moiré ribbon with a delicate finger Cooper could very well imagine stroking his—oh, mercy. Time to leave.
“It’s my birthmark and it’s so odd, so sometimes it’s easier to cover it than answer questions.”
“I see.” Stop gritting your teeth. Act normal. Just stand up and walk away. “I can’t imagine anything appearing odd on you, Sophia.”
Where was his focus? He glanced aside but the world remained blurred. He wanted to look only at the muse. He had to…inhale her.
Cooper closed his eyes and inhaled the lush soft scent of Sophia.
“What is that cologne?” she asked.
He opened an eye and saw Sophia doing much the same as he, inhaling…something. Him? “Er.”
“It’s very sexy.” Throaty, her tone. So…alluring. “I’ve never smelled anything quite like it.”
Did he turn her on, too? He wasn’t quite sure how it worked for the muse.
“You buy that cologne in one of the boutiques on the Champs Elysees?”
“No, it’s um…just me.” Cedar. Pyx liked it. He winced. “Do you live close by?”
“Now why would you wonder something like that? And I don’t even know your name.”
He didn’t have to be on the earth a lifetime to recognize the flirtatious lilt in her voice. It rang like church bells in his belly. He liked church bells.
“Er, sorry, that came out the wrong way. Name’s Cooper Truhart. I just wondered if it was easy for you to get to work. If you lived close by.”
And please buy that stupid excuse.
“I get off in half an hour, Cooper Truhart.” The tip of her tongue dashed out to trace her ruby lip. Diamonds glinted in her dark eyes. “Perhaps you’d like to walk me home? I’ve a wonderful picture book from the Louvre. You can show me why you think the Mona Lisa was so happy the day she sat for da Vinci.”
He clutched the coffee mug handle, and felt the porcelain crack. The handle came off in his grip, but he didn’t react, didn’t want her to notice.
“A half an hour, eh?”
Say no, say no, say no.
He smiled. “It’s a date.”
* * *
Pyx intercepted Michael Donovan on the front steps before Cooper’s building. She charged up the steps and insinuated herself before the lobby door, her chest colliding with the halo hunter’s chest.
“Whoa.” He stepped back, raising his arms, but in a mocking manner. “Ladies first, I guess. You here to see the Fallen?”
“He’s not home. And I am a lady.”
“Didn’t say you weren’t.”
“You implied differently.”
Donovan gave her a frustrated twist of lip.
“What are you doing here? I thought Cooper said he would go to you?”
“My girlfriend found the vampire lair.”
“So what’s new? We found it, too. It’s in an old church.” Pyx huffed. “Where is she? Your girlfriend?”
“She’s a vampire,” Donovan offered matter-of-factly. He glanced toward the setting sun.
“Right. So you’re going to stick your nose into the vampires’ business, and end up getting killed?” Pyx leaned in the doorway, crossing her arms. “Yeah, that’ll work. At least it’ll keep you out of my hair.”
“I have yet to meet a Sinistari who’s mastered the art of subtlety.”
“Yeah, but you’ve only met the two, so give us time, buddy.”
He had not come to deal with her, she guessed. Too bad for him. She was first on the list when it came to contact with Cooper. Everyone else could take a number and stand in line.
“So when’s the Fallen return home?”
“Does it matter?” She eyed the man’s posture, straight and not at all weak. The scar beside his eye made her briefly wonder how he’d gotten it. Probably walked into a door. “He’s not going to get you what you want. You want dead vamps? I’m the one with the warrior training.”
“Is that so?” Donovan shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Don’t get me wrong, but I think angels have warrior mode mastered.”
“Cooper’s not like most angels. He’s not like most Fallen. He’s…too soft.”
Although he had been in the war angel’s ranks. And she still pictured him holding that dripping vampire’s heart after tearing it out from its chest. So maybe Cooper had been a reckonable force—at one time. But since falling he’d sacrificed that warrior status.
Though the angel had rescued her last night.
No, not soft, but humane. Protecting what he’d felt belonged to him. And how weird was that?
“Maybe around you he’s soft,” Donovan said. “Any man would go all soft and senseless around you.”
Pyx straightened and twisted a strand of hair around her finger. She snapped her gum and looked down through her lashes at the man, who was looking more appealing now he’d dropped the sarcasm. “Why’s that?”
Donovan’s smile melted Pyx’s last defensive muscle. “Because you’re gorgeous. But I suspect while you’ve mastered the warrior stuff, as well, you haven’t quite mastered self-awareness. Stay fierce, Pyx. Someone’s gotta slay the Fallen.”
“Right. I’m here to slay the Fallen.” Not kiss him. Even if his kisses were better than banana and chocolate crepes. “But if vamps get in my way—” She punched a fist into her palm.
“You give it to them, sister. Go, Sinistari!”
“You know it.”
“I brought a couple halos.” Donovan patted the messenger bag at his hip. “Thought they would serve as an olive branch to Cooper. Prove to him I’ll do what I’ve promised. I suspect the vampires have a bunch of these, as well. Not sure how they intend to use them.”
“A lure for the Fallen,” Pyx guessed.
“But most Fallen could care little for the soul contained within their halo,” Donovan said.
“That’s true.” Unless the angel’s name was Cooper Truhart. That was information Donavan didn’t need to have. “The halo serves as a supernatural weapon when in the Fallen’s hands.”
“Yes, I’ve seen that. You could take off a head with one of these things if it’s yours.”
“Let me see them.”
“Nope.” Donovan hugged the bag against his hip. “These are mine. You get your own. So I take it you’re the guard dog here? No entrance to see the angel unless I can get past his pet demon?”
Pyx lunged a fist up into Donovan’s gut. He made a gasping “buh” sound and slammed against the door.
Snapping her gum once, Pyx said, “You got it.”
* * *
Cooper clasped Sophia’s hand, because she held it out and waggled her fingers as if she expected him to take it. They strolled the dark street toward her apartment building. Moonlight twinkled on the windows and the silver trim on parked cars. He liked the older neighborhoods; less modernity. The air of ancient times was appealing to him.
This wasn’t a date. Nor was it simply a man walking a woman safely home. He wasn’t sure what he was doing.
Yes, he was. Taking the woman home to have sex with her.
It was his destiny. And hers.
Everything about her, smell, sight, taste and sound, was magnified to a delicious come-on Cooper sucked in through his pores as if air.
She smelled sweeter than anything he’d known—honey and fresh cream—more desirable even than Pyx. And her voice absolutely dripped with come-and-get-me when she purred her words.
The color of her eyes was deep and molten, like glistening dark chocolate. The shine in her voice shimmied against his glass heart. The softness of her skin defied categorization.
And she could give him pleasure. Something Cooper wanted more than anything.
More than claiming his soul?
No. Not going to do it. You don’t need sex. You’d like it, but you don’t need it. Besides, you can have sex. With anyone! What makes this woman so special?
He knew the answer to that one.
He could resist the compulsion. No problem. He was…curious. Yeah, that was it. He wanted to keep tabs on Sophia, know everything he could know so he could prevent the inevitable horror. He was being smart about this.
Right. That’s his story and he was sticking to it.
* * *
The Smart Car crept along the street, a good distance behind the walking couple. The Fallen was leaving with the same woman who had scribbled the angelic sigils in the journal Bruce had turned over to Antonio.
“Most definitely the muse. And the Fallen has finally tapped in to his muse mojo.”
Bruce settled into the seat and turned the radio down low.
“Wonder if there’ll be fireworks?”