Touch of the Angel (Demons of Infernum, #3) by Rosalie Lario Page B

killing machine she’d agreed to be. But seeing him interact with his brothers had worn down her defenses. Their love for each other was so obvious, so true. He had family who cared about him. Who worried about him.
    When had she ever truly felt loved or cared about? She couldn’t remember.
    Surely Ronin had fallen asleep by now. If there ever was a time to try to escape, this was it. She’d have to deal with Asmodeus’s anger over her failure to hook Lucio, but that was better than the alternative. The fact that she might not feel loved didn’t mean she couldn’t love in return. Solara needed her. Not only that, but she had to face the truth—staying here, with Ronin, was far too dangerous. She would like to think she could control herself this time, but in her weakened state she might grow ravenous. Might unknowingly attack him like she did that night at Opiate. After all, she hadn’t fed the night before. Less than one more week without sustenance and she’d die.
    Living with the belief she’d killed such a good, decent man had been painful. She couldn’t bear it if she killed Ronin for real this time. Or what if she became crazed with hunger and attacked one of his brothers? With her allure on full blast, she could be very hard to resist.
    No . She couldn’t stay.
    Amara slid off the bed, careful not to make any sound that Ronin could pick up. After grabbing her heels, she held them in her hand and crept toward the door. Thank goodness for his brother’s frantic break-in earlier. Now she didn’t have to worry about turning the doorknob. She tucked her fingers into the hole and held her breath while slowly—very slowly—pulling the door open. When it gave only the slightest creak, she breathed a sigh of relief.
    The low hum of a fan that sounded like it came from the living room cut into the relative silence. The urge to see Ronin one final time was almost overwhelming, considering she might never get to do so again. Sure, he would eventually apprehend Asmodeus, but no telling where she’d be by then. Maybe Asmodeus would kill her for failing this time .
    Amara fought back the longing to seek out Ronin. It would be too risky to step directly into the room he occupied. He might still be half awake, or he might hear her slightest movement and rouse from his sleep. So instead, she tiptoed down the long hall, bypassing the entrance to the living room, and headed into the foyer.
    There it was—the front door. The very object that signaled both her escape...and her return to hell.
    Good-bye, Ronin. Be safe.
    Taking a deep breath, she closed her fingers around the dead bolt.
    §
    An entire flock of sheep could have paraded through Ronin’s living room and he still wouldn’t have slept. Good to see Dagan didn’t have that same problem. He’d volunteered to stay in the living room with Ronin to help “guard” Amara—i.e., babysit his ass as if he were a rebellious child who couldn’t be trusted. Only problem was, Dagan had dozed off first, the byproduct of too many consecutive nights of drinking, sex, and not enough shut-eye. He’d sprawled out on one of the overstuffed chairs next to the couch and had propped his bare feet up on the coffee table. Now, when he shifted his position, his mouth fell open on a snore that Ronin could barely hear over the whirring of the ceiling fan.
    Ronin crossed his arms behind his head and thought about Amara, like he’d done a zillion times in the past hour. What were the odds of finding her in the home of his latest assignment? His feelings were too conflicted to even process. There was anger at what she’d allowed herself to become—nothing more than an object to lure men to their deaths. Sure, some would say she was well-suited to that purpose, but sex demons didn’t have to kill. His incubus friend Cresso was proof of that.
    On top of that, there was something inside her, some sort of light that drew him. And it was more than succubus allure. Something about her