“Looking for someone, angel?”
    That honey-blood voice quivered Japheth’s feathers taut.
    She grinned, mocking. Leaning against the redbrick wall beneath a rusted fire escape, steeped in magical shadow and hot vampire stink.
    He stared, dumb. Tall for a girl, only a head shorter than he. Long legs, encased in blue jeans and black army boots. Her short black t-shirt stretched over full breasts, flashing that tempting skin above a silver belt buckle. Her bare arms shone, muscular but womanly. Sexy dimples in her cheeks, perfectly shaped for cupping in his palms.
    The bloody feathers of slain angels, gold and white and red, stuck through the thick dark braid she tossed over her shoulder. A few wisps escaped to play around her face in the summer-night breeze. He wanted to trace their path with his fingertips, cheekbone to chin to cherry-ripe lips . . .
    “Matter of fact, I am,” he said tightly. “Your sniveling master. Fluvium, is it? Prince of Thirst? Tell me where he is and I might kill you quickly.”
    She laughed, fangs glinting. Sharp, lethal like a tigress’s. “You’ve come to kill Fluvium? Good luck with that.” She lolled on one foot, eyeing him speculatively, sizing up her prey. “Japheth, right? Of the Tainted Host? Cute name, for a hamster.”
    Sweet lord, his name in her mouth sounded . . . dirty. He swallowed, rough. “How’d you know that?”
    “I know my enemy.” She licked ripe lips.
    “Yeah?” he said coldly. “Well, I don’t want to know you, whore. I don’t care what your name is—”  
    “Rose Harley,” she cut in swiftly, with a wicked grin. “Whoops. Too late. Sorry about that. You like it anonymous, don’t you? So you can pretend they’re not people when you damn them to eternal torment?”
     His grip spasmed around his sword. Sweet heaven, he wanted to stab her. Fill her with burning steel. Twist it, thrust it deeper, make her moan . . . “You don’t need me to damn you. You made your choice. Tell me where Fluvium’s hiding, and I’ll put you out of your misery.”
     She laughed again, and strolled towards him, hands in pockets. “You sure could learn a thing or two from demons about making deals. Like, I dunno. Offering me something I actually want?”
     Her knife still lay sheathed, in her thigh holster. Unafraid, was she? Grudging admiration tingled under his skin, and he crackled it off. Nothing admirable about a demon minion’s attitude. “So you do know where he’s hiding, then.”
     “And what if I do?” She draped her sultry gaze over his silver-clad chest, his bare arms, his glowing blue sword . . . Her scrutiny flushed treacherous heat right to the top of his head. He could smell her, blood and corruption, yes, but underneath, the hot salty musk of female flesh . . .
     Surely, she was his nemesis. Sent to tempt him into falling. Well, he wouldn’t give in. Not when he was so close to redemption.
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