Angel Blood

2- Welcome to Sin City

"Do you like whiskey?"

I've never had any alcohol aside from wine and cheap vodka but I nod my head and smile anyway. A few sips might help with the nerves of being surrounded by demons.

I pull my purse into my lap for easy access as I glance around the room they'd pulled me into. It's large, accommodated with an entire bar and several fine velvet couches the color of night. Neon signs decorate the dark walls, varying from cartoonish women with devil horns and a blinking tail to the largest of them all, a vibrant purple with the club's title, 'SIN CITY,' in swirling lettering.

I shift in the barstool, glancing at where Sinclair continues the make-out session I'd interrupted minutes prior on one of the plush loveseats, his hand tangling in her wild red strands. The emptiness of the room astounds me considering how crowded it is outside.

"Where are we?" I ask finally, looking away from their tangled bodies as the blond demon slides me a glass of amber liquid.

"One of Sin's private rooms," he answers easily, taking a seat on the stool next to me. I stiffen, hand clenching around the glass so tightly that I'm surprised it doesn't explode within my grasp. My pulse quickens, the nervous tingle on my neck growing stronger as Sinclair glances at us at the mention of his name.

Surely I've heard him wrong. He raises an eyebrow at the sudden tension radiating throughout my body so I force my muscles to relax and tug an easy-going grin upon my face.

"What, like some kind of VIP room for being a regular?"

The ice cubes in his glass clink noisily as he tips the short glass back and gulps a large swig of liquor. "No, one of his personal rooms. He owns the place."

I'd heard Sin City was a popular place for the supernatural, but I'd no idea it was because it was owned by a demon. I swallow back the curse on my tongue and force myself to take a sip of the burning liquid, keeping my face neutral even as it stings the back of my throat.

They had to have known about this—known and sent me on this godforsaken mission anyway. Almost like they wanted me to be in over my head.

"Oh wow," I push a laugh from my throat, the sound strained to even my own ears. "I didn't realize."

He hums, icy eyes grazing down my body as if they can see through the thin dress that clings to my skin. My smile nearly stretches into a grimace.

"You're beautiful," he says, swirling the alcohol in his hands as he gazes at me. His voice is flat, detached, the only emotion showing on his face the deep hunger swirling in his eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles out of my throat as I glance away from him. It's the most real reaction I've shown him yet. So is the blush that crawls over my cheeks. I've never been good at taking compliments, especially at the expense of attractive men.

I tense as his finger creeps up to brush my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My skin crawls as his hand moves to cup my jaw, turning my face into his approaching mouth.

I've shot down bloodthirsty beasts before. Wrestled creatures trying to tear out my jugular, but somehow this is harder than even that.

It takes every bit of willpower to let my lips meet his, reminding myself I knew this would happen. That I knew I would have to sacrifice a part of myself in order to complete this mission.

His mouth slides against mine. He's cold and robotic as compared to Sinclair, like making out with a marble statue, but I force myself to sink into him anyway. Leaning forward so my hand creeps up to cradle the nape of his neck, I allow his arm to settle around my waist.