Page 39 of Paramour of Sin

Eve straightened over the low-slung sedan and strode around the hood of the car to the sidewalk. I sensed the silver on her, burning through the air, despite her distance. She passed beneath a streetlight, and something shiny flashed at her neck, and again at her hip. The angel never went anywhere without her weapons.

Three more figures appeared from inside the vehicle—Xai, Gleason, and Creek.

I grumbled low under my breath and caught Lord Zebulon’s glittering gaze. “Dark Provenance has arrived.” I liked Xai. Gleason was all right. But I didn’t care much for Creek. He was new and obnoxious and a little too flirty with Guinevere, at least in my brief unfortunate meetings with the wiry redhead.

“Behave,” Zebulon replied.

“When do I ever behave?” I taunted back.

He smirked. “When I have my cock shoved down your throat.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, then slid my hands into my pockets as the team of angels and Nephilim descended upon us.

Xai halted next to Lord Zebulon with a polite nod of greeting, while Eve, Gleason, and Creek went straight to scrutinizing the body.

Creek grunted. “Yep. He’s dead, all right,” he said in his thick southern drawl before flashing a grin beneath his bushy auburn beard.

I raised an eyebrow at the tall man, and beside me, Eve chuckled.

Gleason sighed. “Creek. We’ve talked about this.”

Creek’s grin widened. “What? He’s dead. Not like he can be offended.”

Eve choked on another laugh, and Gleason rolled his eyes to the sky as if begging for salvation.

Sure, the Nephilim-in-training had a boisterous, happy attitude and an inappropriate humor that wasn’t fit for a crime scene, but at least he added comedic value to an otherwise dark moment.

I glanced between them, noting a very obvious absence. “Who is with Guinevere?”

Eve pinched her lips to the side. “She said she wanted to be alone.”

Fuck.“Because she’s blaming herself.”

Eve didn’t need to nod to confirm my guess. I already knew it was true.

Damn it.I knew damn well that Guinevere didn’t really want to be alone. She was likely hunched over a pan of coffee cake with an entire bottle of wine in her hand, beating herself up for this death… since she chose the bait.

Creek grinned. “Good ol’ Gwenie. How is she? Gleason never lets me come ‘round. Afraid I’ll lose my pants.”

Gleason’s arm lashed out, and his palm connected with the back of Creek’s head with a dullthwack.

Eve planted her hands on her hips and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulders as she stared at Gleason. “What’s crawled up your ass?”

His stoic expression didn’t change as he looked at her and said, “Just trying to keep my charge alive. Yet he keeps trying to slip into bed with my roommate. And if she doesn’t kill him, I will.”

Creek chuckled. “Spoilsport,” he said good-naturedly, still grinning like an imbecile.

I fought the urge to add my own voice to the discussion, but contented myself with thinking,She’s way out of your league, buddy.

Except, no, that wasn’t true.

Creek wasexactlythe kind of guy Guinevere would go for because he’d be easier for her to feed from. The Nephilim wasn’t overly sexual or too intensely good-looking, just a simple guy, who happened to be modestly attractive, and funny. Guinevere would choose him because he was safe. Which meant she was less likely to get carried away and kill him.

No wonder Gleason keeps him away. Smart man.

But still, I don’t like this guy.

No. I didn’tknowthe guy.