Micah and Wyatt stood with their shoulders wide and tense as they glared at the uncouth angel at my side. A smirk lifted one side of Dorian’s mouth up as he brushed off their intimidating stares. The werewolves weren’t to be trifled with. Most people avoided their hair-trigger tempers, but Dorian wasn’t most people.

“This is Dorian Hade,” I said to break the tension. “He’s staying with me to teach me about being a spirit walker. Ignore his rudeness; it’s the only side of him.”

“I resent that.” Dorian looked down at me. “I think we both know I have another side.” He winked and I rolled my eyes, looking back at Micah and Wyatt. Their eyes volleyed between me and Dorian, their assumptions written all over their faces. Why was it men always assumed a man and woman were sleeping together simply because they are friends?

“All right, well, we’ll take these guys back to the morgue,” Wyatt stopped, a thought occurring to him. “Are the demons gone from their bodies?”

“Only three of them,” Dorian responded. “I didn’t have time to extract the rest.”

“What are you, some kind of black magic witch?” Micah questioned, his right eye crinkling in speculation.

A sly smile spread across Dorian’s lips. “I’m much worse.”

Micah and Wyatt looked at each other, and then at me accusingly like I’d stepped over to the dark side and was consorting with the enemy.

“He’s Death,” I said. “And the only thing dangerous about him is his enormous ego.” That wasn’t true; Dorian was a force to be reckoned with, but I wasn’t going to feed his narcissism. And for the most part he was one of the good guys.

“As in the reaper of souls?” Wyatt asked.

“That’d be the one,” Dorian replied.

“Now that the introductions are out of the way, what are you guys going to do with the bodies?” I asked. It was quickly getting colder and the thin jacket I wore wasn’t up to the task of shielding me from it. Plus, I was exhausted from the fight and using my energy to control the spirits.

“Like I said, we’ll take them to the morgue,” Wyatt replied. “We’ll have to find someone to exercise the demons from them.”

“I can do it,” Dorian offered. “It’d be best if we took care of it tonight so that the demons don’t extract themselves and go into one of your officers.”

Micah and Wyatt looked at each other, their heads nodding and their mouths agape. The poor guys were used to dealing with the run-of-the-mill criminals, not demons.

“Where’s Lauren?” Dorian asked.

I turned to see where she had gone but didn’t see her. “I don’t know, probably sinking her fangs into the cute officer she was flirting with.”

“Some bodyguard she’s turning out to be,” Dorian mumbled. “You’ll have to come with me to the morgue.”

“Like hell I will,” I bit out. “It’s late and I’m tired. I’m going home.”

“Not by yourself you’re not,” Dorian replied, his tone final.

“For crying out loud, I’m not helpless and you can’t order me around.”

“We’ll just give you two a moment,” Wyatt interrupted. He and Micah walked over to a couple of their officers and left me alone with Dorian. We glared at each other, both unwilling to bend.

“It’s nice you care about my safety, but I’ve survived twenty-six years without you. I think I’ll manage to stay alive for one more night.” I turned and walked away.

“Meet you at the morgue, boys,” Dorian called behind me as his footsteps headed in my direction. “I have to walk Gwen home.”

I frowned, hugging my arms to my chest and continued up the path. Dorian fell in step beside me and together we exited the cemetery. I felt something heavy fall around my shoulders, and when I looked up, Dorian was no longer wearing his leather jacket.

“You know, if word gets out that you’re a gentleman, it’ll hurt your rep.”

“Luckily there aren’t any witnesses around.” We walked in silence for a few long seconds before Dorian spoke again. “It happened again tonight.”

I had been staring into the trees lining the street. I looked up at him. “What happened again?”

Dorian shook his head slightly, his lips a tight wire as the muscles in his jaw flexed. He was absolutely gorgeous, even when pissed off. His skin, though lined with a five o’clock shadow, was warm porcelain.

“I couldn’t see the danger you were in tonight,” he said, bewildered.

I knew the lack of insight bothered him, and it bothered me too, but I believed everything happened for a reason. I just didn’t know what the reason might be.

“Maybe you’re not seeing it because the rogues weren’t going to kill me. You see death, right? What if the rogues were ordered to just kidnap me or something?” Dorian gave me an ‘are you serious?’ look, I shrugged. Truth was I didn’t have a clue why I was blocked from him. In my experience, it couldn’t be good.

“I cannot pinpoint when you’ll die, Gwen. Do you understand how baffling and dangerous that is?” Dorian’s hands curled into fists beside his thighs. “I have to find answers. Otherwise you may not live through the week. Especially when you don’t take precautions.” He gave me a chiding look.

“How do you plan to find answers?” We’d made it back to the apartment. We climbed up the staircase and I fished my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door. Dorian’s strong hands slid over my shoulders and he turned me around to face him.

“I have to leave, Gwen. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” He moved his hand up my shoulder, to my neck and cupped the side of my face. Brushing the pad of his thumb along my jawline, he leaned down and pressed the softest kiss to my lips.

“Leaving is the last thing I want to do, but finding answers could save you and that’s more important than my need to stay by your side.” He spoke against my mouth, his breath caressing my lips.

The idea of Dorian not being around twisted my heart. I knew he’d come back, but that could be days or months. The Dorian leaving was different than the Dorian who arrived at the castle in Moon a month ago. This man still had hard edges but they were softening, and it pained me to see him go. I may be reluctant to enter into another relationship, but I’d come to think of Dorian as my friend— even if that friend occasionally kissed me.

“When?” I mumbled.

“As soon as I’m done helping the FPD.”

I nodded and looked down at my hands. Turning, I opened the door and stepped inside. Dorian followed, closing the door behind him. A small part of me was angry with the angel of Death for leaving me at such a vulnerable time, but I wouldn’t voice those emotions. Dorian needed to find answers for what he was experiencing and who was I to stand in his way? He’d given up his life to help me out and now I had to let him get back to it.

“Alright,” I said, crossing my arms and staring at him. “Good luck.”

He crossed the room, stopping just in front of me. We watched each other for a few lingering moments until his lips were on my mouth again. There was nothing soft about this kiss. It was urgent, hard and possessive. A delightful tremor ran through my body as his arm snaked around my waist and pulled me tighter to his body. If only all moments could be this delicious.

“Whoa,” Lauren said behind us. The door slamming shut was like the snap of a hypnotizer’s fingers, awakening me from a dream.

Dorian pressed one last kiss on my lips before he turned away and disappeared through the door. I caught Lauren’s smile but wasn’t in the mood to return it. Turning, I headed to my bedroom and prayed sleep would claim me fast.

Chapter Eight

I don’t know why I thought finding information on a secret, underground group of evil rogues would be easy. It wasn’t like there was an evilrogues.com. (Yes, I tried it.) I had woken up at 4 a.m. and spent the morning hunched over my laptop sifting through websites until my eyes burned and I couldn’t see straight anymore. There were a few conspiracy theorist blogs where they mentioned the idea of a group like the Veil, but they also thought there were subliminal messages on children’s televisions shows. After reading it, my brain hurt and my patience was thinning.

I must have drifted off because I woke up on the sofa, my laptop discarded on the floor and infomercials for slimming lotion squawking from the television. The good news was I hadn’t dreamt about assassins or sharp daggers. As I tried to sit up, the throw blanket got tangled around me like some sort of cotton boa constrictor. I fought my way out, yanking and lifting until I was free to stand. Talk about an early morning workout.

Rubbing my blurry eyes, I padded into the kitchen in desperate need of coffee. While I waited for it to brew, I headed down the hall to the restroom, pausing in front of Dorian’s bedroom door. It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t behind it. Turning the knob, I opened the door; half hoping he would be sleeping under Fiona’s frilly comforter. He wasn’t. Lauren was curled into a tight ball, her arms strangling her pillow. Her long blonde hair spilled over her face. She actually looked peaceful when she wasn’t strutting and wielding her body at the closest man.

Lauren would be dead to the world until tonight. Vampires could awaken during the sunlit hours, but they had the strength of a toddler. The two windows had thick blankets duct taped to the wall to keep out even the smallest sliver of light. My eyes adjusted quickly, the light from the hall leaking into the room. Fiona had had movers pack up a lot of her things when she decided to stay in Moon. I knew her father didn’t want her around me when I was the target in so many bad guys’ eyes, but I missed her. Seeing her half-empty room caused a pain in my chest. Deciding it was probably creepy to be watching over a sleeping vampire, I turned and closed the door.

* * *

After three cups of coffee, and more endless internet searches, I reached a dead end. I flipped through the notes I had scribbled down in my journal. There were more doodles than information. Sometime during zoning out, I had drawn a dagger. Its hilt was wide and at the base a gem was set in the metal, just like the tattoo I’d see on my attacker’s neck. As I thought about my assassin, another thought came to mind: What had Dorian done to him? The man stood behind me so I couldn’t see what had happened, but one minute he was holding my life in his hands and the next he was crumbled at my feet—dead. And he hadn’t touched the man at the cemetery either. He simply reached his hand out and black and white smoke rose from the rogue’s body. Bizarre.