King of the Damned: A League of Guardians Novel by Juliana Stone Page A

settled on Rowan, and she felt his anger as clear as day. “Seems to be following you.”
    Rowan bit back the pulse of irritation that throbbed near her temple. “The only thing that’s following me is your bad attitude.” She strode toward him. “And that’s going to change. I won’t work with someone who’s got his head so far up his ass, he can’t see the big picture.”
    The bartender stared at her in shock, then a slow grin spread across his face. “You really are Marie-Noelle’s daughter.”
    She arched a brow. “And?”
    He stroked the beard that hung inches past his chin, his intense eyes never leaving hers. He nodded. “It’s about time you showed up.”

Chapter 8
    A zaiel was on his feet when Rowan pushed back into the bar. The blond woman who’d been eyeing him up was no longer content to display her charms from across the room. She stood inches from Azaiel, her overly large breasts near to bursting from a low-cut cream blouse that barely kept them contained.
    Rowan eyed the long length of trim legs exposed by the short, charcoal-leather skirt she wore. They, of course, were enhanced by six-inch candy red stilettos, and Rowan had to admit, the woman’s curves were enviable. She was attractive—in a dirty, skank, biker kind of way.
    The woman turned, and the edges of a tramp stamp showed along her lower back as well as the top of her scarlet-colored G-string. Rowan made a face—the look was so yesterday.
    Azaiel caught sight of Rowan and turned without another word—brows furled, eyes dark with frustration.
    “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” she asked softly.
    A scowl crossed his features. “Not at all. She’s annoying.”
    Rowan glanced at the woman, who was now shooting daggers her way. “She’s got a great rack, though.”
    She turned back to Azaiel, and her mouth went dry. Slowly he dragged his gaze from Rowan’s chest and gazed directly into her eyes. “I hadn’t noticed.”
    Bartender man cleared his throat and stopped beside them, with Hannah close on his heels. “Hate to break up whatever the hell this is between the two of you, but like I said out there”—he nodded toward the door—“trouble’s on its way and we better come up with a plan or the shit’s gonna hit before we’re ready.”
    “Trouble?” Azaiel barked. He shouldered between them and strode outside.
    Rowan turned to the bartender. “You didn’t introduce yourself, so unless you give me a name, I’ll have to call you bushy bartender guy.”
    “Bushy?” He smiled and ran fingers through the hair on his face. “I’ve been called worse.” He cocked his head. “Frank Talbot.”
    The name suited him. “Nice to meet you, Frank.” Rowan turned to Hannah. “We have any idea what that dark cloud is all about?”
    Hannah shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” She tugged on Frank’s arm. “We need to clear the bar. Get everyone to go home.”
    Frank nodded and turned, cursing under his breath. “This is really gonna hurt our bottom line this month.” He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled long and loud. “Everyone out!”
    A few groans met his command, but nobody jumped to do his bidding. He turned in a circle and grabbed Hannah’s arm. “You want the crazy lady with the gun to ask? ’Cause I don’t think she’ll be as nice as me.”
    Within seconds, the place was hopping with patrons throwing cash onto the tables and leaving.
    Azaiel came in from outside, his face hard as stone and eyes full-fledged black. The power inside him was hard to miss. It rolled off his tall frame in waves, and Rowan realized that for the most part he kept it hidden.
    “Holy crap,” Hannah whispered. “He’s hot as hell, but seriously, he scares me more than anyone we’ve hunted in the past. Are you positive we can trust him?”
    I wish I knew.
    “No. But at the moment, he’s all we’ve got.”
    “Great.” Hannah took a step back. “Good to know.”
    Azaiel stopped a few