Deliverance from Sin by Rosalie Stanton EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Rosalie Stanton
- Language: English
- Genre:Paranormal Angel Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5 MB
- Price: Free
A DEMON HAD JUST WALKED INTO THE BAR. HIS BAR.
Fuck.
With any luck, it was one of the rarer breeds that knew what was good
for it.
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Campbell clenched his jaw and sucked in a breath as the signature’s
owner approached. By the time the asshole was close enough to smell, he’d
nearly convinced himself to find a dark corner and do his disappearing act.
But dammit, Rat Trap was his haven. It was perfect, obscure, and
planted some twelve miles from the nearest interstate in a remote area that
was one death away from being a ghost town. There was a cemetery, a gas
station, and a gun shop within walking distance, but more substantial signs
of civilization required wheels. Campbell loved it here. No one knew his
name, and thank fuck for that.
The last thing he needed was some goddamned demon fucking things
up.
Demons, however, were not the obliging sort. This one released a small
sigh and drew up on the barstool beside him. Of course it did. Campbell
held his breath and braced himself.
Fine. Fucking fine.
“Look,” he began, turning to stare the asshole in the eye. “I’m really—”
The words died the second their gazes clashed. For an asshole demon,
she sure had pretty eyes.
Pretty…confused eyes.
“Huh?” The owner of the eyes—which were pale green—wrinkled her
nose and furrowed her brow. “Were you talking to me?”
For the first time in as long as he could remember, Campbell felt a stab
of something beyond self-loathing. If he didn’t know better, he’d call it
embarrassment. “Ahh, sorry,” he said. “I thought you were someone else.”
The girl didn’t look convinced. She looked…well, Campbell couldn’t
really say how she looked, but it wasn’t as he would have expected. As
though she were trying to locate a memory, which led to a dejected frown
whenever she found it. Every part of her seemed to deflate, resigned and
beaten. She tugged on a loose tendril of her rust-colored hair, then tossed it
behind her shoulder. He thought she might say something more—something
about pitying whoever he’d mistaken her for, that he needed to get a grip,
that he was fucking jumpy—but instead, she deflected and turned to the
bartender, who Campbell realized had been watching the scene with a sort
of dull interest.
“Rum and coke, Carl,” the girl said.
Carl nodded and went about filling the order.
Again, Campbell waited. The hum of the girl’s energy signature had yet
to fizzle, but the more he analyzed it, the less convinced he became that she
had any demon in her. It was too faint—a tug to let him know there was a
story behind it, but nothing substantial enough to warrant an investigation.
By the time Carl had placed the rum and coke before her, Campbell had
it figured.
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