Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) Read Online Free PDF Page A

gang’s all here.”
    “With that rotten excuse for music? You’re kidding.”
    “Dude, this is genuine nineties retro. Better than that wailing opera-house crap you listen to. C’mon, just one drink. Ariel’s buying.”
    Japheth sighed. He knew how this would go. The smell of unaccustomed alcohol sickening him, kids offering him drugs, losers picking fights, those gushing social-media girls…
    But his skin still glittered, his body still warm with shock and ugly desire. Maybe, it’d take his mind off her .
    He snapped his blood-crusted feathers tight, willing the sparks to fade. “One drink, Dash. Five minutes, no more. And if you spike my tonic water again? I’ll kick your brown-feathered ass to purgatory.”
    “There’s no such thing as purgatory, kid. People made that up.”
    “Don’t think that’ll stop me.”
    *   *   *
    Rose banged her skull into the broken sidewalk and strangled a scream.
    Screw that wiseass angel. He’d provoked her into weakness. Seen the despair flash over her face. And then he’d had the nerve to take pity on her.
    She leapt up, raking her hair back. Her hell-spelled knife lay in the dust. Red demonflame flickered sullenly over the bronzed blade. She slammed it back into its sheath, so hard it nearly tore the buckles from her thigh.
    She’d thought him beautiful. For one hormone-drunk moment, she’d wanted him to touch her in something other than fighting rage.
    Sweet Satan, how humiliating.
    Frantically, she scrubbed bloodstained hands on her jeans. But his innocent scent lingered, maddening. Why couldn’t she get it off? Angels were just monsters in pretty packages. She’d entertained their lies once, and look where it had gotten her. Even her demon prince had the class to admit he was a treacherous asshole when you called him on it. That angel had consigned her to hell—and had the arrogance to act like he felt sorry for her.
    She kicked the pavement, raising furious dust. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work. To be the Angel Slayer—to satisfy her demon master—she had to be sure. Confident she was right. Not flirting on the edge of doubt. I’m one filthy bloodsucker you’ll regret leaving alive, godscum. Because I’m gonna hunt you down …
    “Rose.”
    She whirled, her hand flashing to her knife. Too late, hell’s stormy scent curled in her nostrils. Her blood groaned, slithering with shared hunger, and inside her, like a hot slug, the curse stretched and sighed in contentment.
    Her demon prince smiled.
    Rose cursed under her breath, and forced her hand to relax.That ethereal whisper, so cold yet warm on her shoulder. Slick rosy lips, dark eyes flashing with unholy fire. Fluvium, Prince of Thirst. Creator and master of the Babylon vampire covens.
    And she was totally, helplessly, irrevocably his slave.
    Sick fever crawled up her spine. Her voice trembled. “Damn it, Fluvium, you scared the shit out of me. Why can’t you just walk up and say ‘hi’ like a normal person?”
    “Sweet Rose, I’m disappointed you’d say such a thing.” Fluvium shoved hands in pockets, his embroidered black coat flaring around his knees. Freakish face, ethereal, his bones impossibly sharp and fine. Tonight, his perfect chin was artfully unshaven, and a shiny golden ring pierced one earlobe. He wore a ruffled white shirt, black trousers and tall boots, a glistening violet scarf, and his deliciously dark hair—just a midnight purple shadow belying his inhuman nature—tousled at his collar beneath a raven-feathered, three-cornered hat.
    Fluvium liked outlandish costumes. He even wore a cutlass, hooked into his belt, the bare curved steel glittering. Where the hell had he gotten a cutlass? He looked like a lunatic pirate, complete with fucked-up grin and that out-of-focus possessed gleam in his eyes.
    Still as lethally, disgustingly attractive as the night they’d met.
    Thinking about it still made her want to vomit. She’d just danced her first ever opening night on