Samael by Heather Killough-Walden Page A

food court area of the faire across a clearing and beside an archery range. A cold beer would go down nice right now. It couldn’t get her drunk, as angels had to drink a hell of a lot of alcohol to feel any effect. But over the years, she had developed a taste for the liquid. A good, extremely cold beer was smooth, not sweet, and more refreshing than anything else she could think of.
    She took off in that direction. What could be the harm in just staying for an hour or so? There was no way Sam could have detected her transport from the concert, much less her various transports after that. He had no idea where she was, which was back in Texas, just outside of Austin. This was probably the last place he would expect her to return to after just recently having left the same state. She’d put some thought into her destination, after all.
    As she walked, she passed a variety of actors and actresses in ren faire garb. There was a fortune teller in more silk than most pirates managed to steal on the open seas. There was a group of teenagers dressed as League of Legends characters. There were knights and princesses and ladies in waiting. There were children dressed as fairies or wearing masks like dragons. There was a Skyrim group wearing silver Skyrim pendants. There were men in black leather armor, very tall and graceful, with well-built physiques and piercing, vividly colored eyes.
    Wait.
    Angel stopped in her tracks just short of reaching the beer stand. She recognized those men in black at once, especially since they were all staring at her. And smiling.
    They had such beautiful, promising smiles.
    Angel’s breath quickened. She turned in a slow circle, feeling them watching her from all angles now. There was one beside the corset tent. He nodded politely at her. There was another by a shop selling dragon jewelry. He, too, acknowledged her with a nod. Another stood beside a booth that sold leather armor. He smiled rapaciously and winked. And another two were waiting on either side of the astrolabe entrance, as if they’d known good and well she would eventually make her way there.
    They were all around her.
    How could she not have noticed them before? Was she really that out of it? All the other women at the faire had certainly noticed. They stared covertly at the men from under lowered lashes or from behind their friends’ shoulders. She could hear them giggling and talking amongst themselves.
    The men were beautiful. They would be. They were incubi, otherwise known as Nightmares.
    Slowly, as if in a dream, Angel again faced the beer stand. In front of her, another man in black armor had his back to her. He said “thank you” to the sales person at the stand and then turned around, a frosty mug of beer in each hand. His inhuman eyes sparkled with sexy amusement and even sexier secrets.
    “Hello Angel,” said the Nightmare King.
     

Chapter Seventeen
    “Hesperos.”
    Hesperos’s green-gray eyes glittered. He handed her one of the beers, and not knowing what else to do, she took it. “You look ravishing,” he said softly.
    Angel was surprised to see him there. But then again – she also wasn’t.
    “Thank you,” she said softly, glancing down at her beer longingly before taking a big drink. She knew, as she always did with Hesperos, that when he gave such a complement, he meant it thoroughly. He meant that she was not only ravishing on the outside, but on the inside as well. In fact, the inside was what mattered most to the incubi. This was especially true for their king.
    He frowned, gazing steadily at her over the lip of his commemorative mug. “You also look ravaged.” He slowly lowered his drink. “I’m guessing you have something to do with that, Fallen One.”
    Angel’s eyes popped, and she spun, sloshing a little beer.
    “Well,” said Sam casually, as he took the drink from her hands, and she did absolutely nothing to stop him. “The thing about running is that no one can do it forever.” He took