Darklove Read Free Page A

in. He swaggers toward me, his gaze lowering to the quivering pile of used-to-be vampire. Mercury eyes flash so angrily, they almost glow in the dark. Ever since Edinburgh, he’s smothered the hell out of me. Edgy, watchful, and overly mother hennish. He gets on my fucking nerves. Everybody does, actually.
    â€œI liked you better when you were just a horny, whimsical old vampire,” I say under my breath, and then sigh with frustration. “I’m fine.”
    â€œRiley. You left me, like, ten seconds ago.”
    I look at my WUP partner. “I was just . . . walking by. Heading inside.” I incline my head to the heap on the ground. “He grabbed me.” I shrug. “I let him.”
    Noah mutters under his breath, something annoyed and unintelligible, and stares at me. “Come on, let’s make like a tree and get out of here.” He grabs the bags I dropped and shakes his head.
    I watch Noah Miles’s broad back as he retreats to our guesthouse’s back entrance. The way he moves tells me he’s waiting on me to follow. Slow, careful, on full alert. One thing I can say about him: When he makes a vow, he damn well means every solemn word of it. A vow to protect me, keep me safe, no matter the cost. This he made to Eli, back in Edinburgh when the very real threat of the Black Fallen killing all of us lingered.
    â€œHe knew my name,” I say to Noah’s back as we stand at the door.
    Noah’s shoulders rise and fall, as though he’s taking in a long, exaggerated breath. “That really doesn’t surprise me, Poe.” He glances back at me. One eyebrow lifts. “At all.”
    I move ahead of him and through the door. “Just saying.”
    Inside, I find the switch on the wall and flip it on. The light illuminates a small kitchen area. I move to the hallway and flip another switch. It shines on a staircase, and I head up. At the top, I find a corridor with doors. I throw open the first one and hit the light. Big bed. Fireplace. Terrace overlooking Montague Row. I throw my pack onto the fluffy pink duvet and open it, withdrawing a leather case. I open it and stare down at my cache of pointy little weapons.
    â€œI’ll stay on the first floor,” Noah yells up.
    â€œYeah, okay,” I answer absentmindedly. I pull off my leather jacket and toss it on the bed, too, leaving just my black leather vest on. I truly prefer nice soft cotton, but it can’t hold my blades like leather can. Swiftly, I remove and secure on my person multiple silver daggers, knives, dirks. In my vest, the waist of my jeans, front and back. Grasping the lightweight leather holster, I push my shoulder through and secure the strap around my waist. I snug it tight. Then I eye the one remaining weapon I have.
    Right now the most important.
    My scatha.
    What’s that? you ask. Well, in the wise words of the great Inigo Montoya, let me s’plain. From the beginning.
    When I think of who I used to be, it seems as though I’m looking at someone else in an old high school yearbook or old photo album. I barely recognize myself. The line separating my old life and this one is hazy, muddled, and most of the time I don’t know if I want either one of them anymore, if given the choice. I feel icy cold inside now. Ever since Eli’s death.
    In my full-blown human days, I used to be a juvenile delinquent. Then I found my mom murdered, and it set me right. With the help of loving surrogate grandparents, albeit root doctors, I became a successful tattoo artist and businesswoman. I raised my baby brother, Seth, to near adulthood. My business thrived.
    Then the vampires descended upon first my brother, then me. Some vampires good. Some very, very bad.
    One . . .
perfect
. But he’s gone now. Eli. My fiancé. He was killed by a Black Fallen—a fallen angel whose soul is darkened by the most evil of magic. My friend Victorian Arcos, a powerful Strigoi