Table of Contents

Title Page
Copyright
Praise for Charlotte Copper
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Story
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

Silver Blade
by
Charlotte Copper

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the
authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Silver Blade
COPYRIGHT 2013 by Charlotte Copper
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever
without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Black Rose Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-847-9
Published in the United States of America

Praise for Charlotte Copper

SILVER BLADE is a book to tell your friends about.
~Sarah Hoss, author of Heaven Sent

Dedication
To DKLV, without you I would just be W.

Acknowledgements
Thank you to the people at
the Writers Community of Durham Region,
especially Sue Reynolds.
Your experience, enthusiasm, and encouragement
helped make this possible!

Dusk was settling in. A solitary headlight approached in her rearview mirror. With a whoosh, a
motorcycle passed, the single red taillight ascending the next hill. A second pair of headlights came
over the rise behind Angela, advancing quickly and illuminating her mirrors. Her hands tightened on
the steering wheel as a massive black SUV shot out around her, its size and speed shaking the little
car.
What the? she exclaimed to the empty passenger seat. She witnessed the speeding monster
climb the long low hill, gaining on the motorcycle. Although night was approaching fast, she could
see the larger vehicle pull alongside the motorcycle, entering into the opposite lane. The two vehicles
neared the top of the hill, the SUV hidden by the rise to oncoming traffic. The black mammoth
swerved and sent the much smaller vehicle off the road into the grass and trees.
Holy crap! she cried out, removing her foot from the gas. Surely there must have been another
vehicle approaching to cause the SUV to make such a drastic move. She watched the top of the hill,
but no other traffic came, nor did the huge vehicle come back to check on the ill-fated bike and rider.
She returned pressure to the accelerator and followed the deserted country hill to the
approximate spot where the motorcycle left the road. The pounding of her heart echoed against her
temples. She closed her eyes. Deep breath. Relax.
She grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and climbed out of the car. She rooted around in
the large satchel and found the rough cut of keys at the bottom. She hurried around to the back of the
car and popped the trunk, then stared at its contents. A few boxes and two suitcases, one his and one
hers.
Her brother, Bobby, a park ranger, had come across his share of bears and wild animals, but
instead his life had been taken by a drunk driver. She was on her way back from burying him, his few
items worth keeping packed away in the flimsy cardboard. She shook off the memories and yanked
forward a small metal box.
Thank you, Bobby, she whispered as she unlocked the safety box and removed the revolver,
carefully putting it in her purse.
She slammed the trunk and hurried down the incline, the soft ground sucking at her high heels
while she tried to maintain her balance on the steep slope.
Hello, she called out, the motorcycles engine her only reply.
The cacophonous engine did nothing to calm her nerves. She turned off the bike and wedged the
key into the pocket of her jeans. She tilted her head to the silence. There. Movement.
The rider was trying to get up, hidden by the brush about ten feet from the downed Harley.
Hey, are you okay? she asked seconds before the motorcyclist collapsed into the long grass.
The rider was covered head to toe in jeans, a black leather jacket, riding gloves, and a full
helmet, but sheer size suggested a man.
She dug her cell phone from her purse. Crap. A no-service signal flashed on her phone. Hey,
buddy, can you hear me?
A long, low moan was the only response.
Angela knelt next to the man. Im not getting any cell service out here, but I passed a hospital
sign about ten minutes back. If we can get you to my car, we can drive there. She reached out a hand
and pressed against the cool leather. Hey, buddy, can you move?
Another moan and the man forced himself up into a crawling position, and then back on his
knees. His left arm hung useless at his side. Shed bet five dollars his arm was broken.
Using his right hand, the man tried to lift the visor on his helmet, but it would only go up a crack.

Angela eyed the bent plastic. Another five that was broken, too.
Lets go, he uttered hoarsely.
Between the slight slope of the ground, the odd-hanging arm, and whatever other injuries were
hidden beneath the leather jacket, the man had to struggle to stand. Once upright, Angela maneuvered
herself under his good arm and staggered with him up the incline.
At almost five feet nine inches tall, Angela was not a small woman, but this guy was huge, a
good six and a half feet, and packed solid beneath the jacket he wore. She stumbled under his weight,
and the two practically fell the last couple of feet to land against the car. Thank you, God, for
keeping him conscious.
Fug, came a muffled curse from behind the helmets visor.
Sorry.
The injured man leaned against the car while Angela opened the door, and then began to slide
down the side.
Buddy, she said as she gave him a gentle shake, dont pass out yet. Come on, you need to get
into the car.
With a grunt and a long moan, the man shoved himself away from the vehicle, turned his body,
and fell into the passenger seat, ducking his head just in time. The stranger let loose a string of
profanities as he tried to fold his legs into the tiny car. By the time she closed the door and climbed in
the drivers side, her passenger was silent. The mans heavy breathing inside the helmet assured her
that he was at least still alive.
Oz slumped against the door. Shitty small car. Probably Japanese.
The bright light of the speeding SUV reflected in his mirror. Red eyes of the demon staring
from inside the menacing vehicle.
The smell of perfume. Did she say something?
Airborne. Ground. Pain. A voice. Angel in tight jeans. Long hair. Longer legs.
Finally the car moved.
Darkness.
****
The drive back to the town seemed longer than she remembered. As Angela drove up to the
doors marked EMERGENCY, a tall, thickset man in crisp, light green hospital attire came jogging
from the parking lot. Nurse or janitor, she didnt care which.
What happened? he asked. His name tag announced him as Tracy. Did he have the right tag on?
There was a motorcycle accident, outside of town. She got out of the car. The rider is in the
other side. Hes hurt. I think his left arm may be broken. He could walk when I got there, but Im not
sure hes conscious anymore. He hasnt said anything else since I got him in the car.
Tracy scooted around the vehicle and peered in the window. Be right back, he said and
hurried into the hospital.
He returned a minute later with a gurney and another, female, nurse. Angela met them at the
passenger side door.
Ready? Angela opened the door on their nod. The male nurse leaned in and caught the
unconscious passenger as he fell out.
Together, the female nurse and Angela lifted the riders legs and helped transfer the deadweight
body onto the gurney. Angela followed them through the hissing doors into the cool, antiseptic air of
the hospital. She stopped short as the nurses pushed their patient through a second set of doors, those
ones marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Angela vacillated in the waiting area, unsure what to do next, until the female nurse came back.
Luckily, one of the doctors is here. He just finished stitching up a kid. Sometimes theyre on
call at night. Why dont you park your car and then come back in? Weve got a fresh pot of coffee.
The nurse, whose name tag read Jackie, glanced toward the coffeemaker. Well need you to fill out
some paperwork.
Paperwork? repeated Angela. I dont even know his name. He was in a motorcycle accident.
My cell phone wasnt working, so I brought him in.
Well, well need you to stick around. Well have to call the police when we get a minute.
Theyll want to ask you some questions.
Yeah. Sure, said Angela, as the nurse slipped back through the doors.
Angela stepped into the cooling night air. The burden of the gun weighed heavily in her purse
and she eyed the trunk. With her luck, the police would arrive while she had the gun in hand. Leaving
the weapon in her bag, she moved the car to a proper spot and returned to the hospital.
The waiting area and the nurses desks were empty. She spied the coffee pot and several mugs
behind the desk, and helped herself to a cup as Jackie suggested. It was going to be a long night.
Thirty minutes after she sat down, the front doors slid open and a man wearing a police uniform
walked in. He surveyed the waiting room, and then behind the desk. When his scan proved fruitless,
the officer let himself through the AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY doors. A few minutes later h
came back out with Jackie.
Officer Pettiworth, this isIm sorry, I dont think I got your name, said the nurse.
Im Angela. Angela Knight.
Angela is the one that brought Mr. McAvoy in, Jackie told the police officer.
Do you mind if I ask you some questions, maam? The officer sat down in one of the chairs
without waiting for Angelas answer.
She spent the next half hour explaining what she had seen to the police officer. He went over
everything, sometimes repeating the question a few minutes later. How often did peoples stories
change when asked the same question twice?
When he was done with his questions, the officer asked if she would mind driving with him out
to the accident scene. Once there, he asked more questions, repeating some of the evenings earlier
questions yet again. The sun had long since set, and they walked and talked in the bright beams of the
cruisers headlights. Angela was beyond the point of exhaustion when Officer Pettiworth advised he
would come back the next day with some more police and a tow truck to finish the work.
****
Antiseptic air prickled her nose, and her eyelids shot open. She was in a hospital! No, wait, it
hadnt been her car. She had stopped to help. Yes! Thats what happened.
Officer Pettiworth hadnt finished his questioning until late in the evening. She had gone into Mr.
McAvoys room to make sure the stranger was settled. She sat in the chair to rest her eyes for a few
minutes. Yeah, right. She frowned at the bright morning sun as it shone through the crack in the
curtains. Just a few minutes! At some point, someone had even come in and covered her with a
blanket.
Quietly, so as not to wake the rooms other occupant, Angela stood and stretched her stiff back.
She peeked over to the bed. Mr. McAvoy was gone.
The bathroom door opened and Angela jumped. Out stepped her mystery man.
Good morning, he said, his voice deep and powerful. The strangers gaze moved up and down
her body.

Go ahead, buddy. I get that at least ten times a day back in Vegas. Good morning, she
replied, and took her turn to check him out.
When she brought him in, Mr. McAvoy had been a mystery, covered head to toe; the only thing
she knew for sure was that he was large and male. This morning, however, was a different situation
entirely. The huge man in front of her wore a tight pair of black boxer briefs and his ribs were
wrapped in white bandages. Other than that, he wore nothing. Shed guessed he was a solid muscular
man from the fit of his jacket and jeans, but this mornings attire left little to the imagination.
Definitely male. And large. Wow!
Sorry, I had to ditch the hospital gown. I was getting all tangled in it. Dont know how you
women sleep in those things.
Angela realized she was staring, and forced her eyes up from his body to his face. A small V of
golden brown hair sat below his bottom lip; this and his eyebrows gave the only hint to what his hair
color might be. Handsome, bald, and undeniably strong, the man was built like a mixed martial arts
champion. Better in fact.
But his eyesso much like Bobbys. Pale blue eyes surrounded by long dark lashes studied her.
Eyes she suspected often reflected the ferocity of their owner, but also hid a depth of love and loss.
Im not a nurse, she managed to say.
No, youre my angel, he said and continued to approach, stopping just close enough to be on
the edge of what she considered her private space.
Its Angela actually, she replied, taking a small step backward.
But you are my angel, too, right? he asked. The woman that brought me here? No easy feat,
Im sure, getting me up the hill and into your car.
Well, you walked most of the way on your own. With a little help.
Now that he stood in front of her, she concluded her estimate of his height at six and a half feet
had been pretty close. On a heavy chain around his neck hung an ornamental silver dagger. Was it
meant to scare or intimidate? Had someone who cared given it to him?
Really? I dont remember anything except your face. Oh, and my name is Oz, not Buddy.
Pardon? She wished he would put some clothes on so that she could concentrate on what he
said.
I also remember you calling me Buddy. My name is Oz.
Like the wizard?
Oscar actually, but everyone calls me Oz.
Well, its nice to see you up and around, Oz. How are you feeling?
Like a man that wiped out on a motorcycle doing eighty miles an hour. He warily twisted his
stiff body left and right.
Eighty, eh? I told the police I thought you were going pretty fast. Angela averted her eyes from
Ozs bandaged torso, and began to pick at an artificial nail.
They were here, huh?
Yes. And they said theyd be back this morning to talk to you.
What did you tell them?
I couldnt tell them much. I said you passed me and I thought you were going pretty fast. And
then the SUV passed, and it was going even faster. I said that at first I thought maybe it was a race, but
when I saw them swerve and force you off the road I figured they must have been chasing you. I told
them it was a massive black SUV; I didnt see who was in the vehicle and I didnt get the license
number. Other than that, there wasnt anything else. Do you know who it was?

No, Oz replied. Really though, he had a suspicion.

If she had asked ten days ago, no would have been true. Demons rarely hunted the hunter. Last
week, however, one had managed to escape him. That had only happened to him one time before. This
time he had been surprised and outnumbered five to one, and although none of his brothers blamed
him, Oz blamed himself for the demons escape.
So why do you think they were chasing you?
I dont know, he lied.
He scanned the lengthy scar on his forearm. A magic poultice had neutralized the poison while
his accelerated healing had quickly mended the ragged gash. The demon that got away had managed to
cut him with a long and jagged talon before fleeing, and therefore the fiend now had his scent. Who
else would have dared last nights chase? He needed to get home. Once he was there he would be
safe, protected by spells and wards. Until the escaped demon was caught, Oz would have to be on his
guard.
So, what are you still doing here? Did the police make you stay? Normally he would not have
minded the company of this beautiful and sexy woman.
Im headed to Nevada. By the time the police finished asking me the same questions for the
third or fourth time, it was late and dark. I came in here and I must have fallen asleep. The night nurse,
Tracy, he must have come in and
He? The night nurse is a guy named Tracy? Oz let out a deep throaty laugh.
You dont remember Tracy?
I dont remember anything.
It was Angelas turn to laugh. Yes, the night nurse is a big guy named Tracy. Anyway, I came in
the room to see if you were okay. I guess I fell asleep and Tracy must have covered me with the
blanket.
Shit. You really are an angel, you know that?
Thank you, but Im sure anyone would have done what I did.
Except the guys in the SUV.
Yes, except the guys in the SUV, she agreed with a small laugh. Look, I was going to go see if
there was any coffee. Would you like some?
See, there you go doing that angel thing again, he said with a wink. Id love some. Black.
Thanks.
Ozs cock twitched as he admired Angelas ass in her tight jeans. Down, boy! Now was not the
time for him to be thinking about a woman. The only thing that should be on his mind was catching and
killing the demon.
He searched the closet and drawer for his stuff. He found some of his clothes and headed into the
small bathroom. He was just coming back out as Angela returned to the room.
What do you think? he asked.
He was still in his boxer briefs, but now he wore his motorcycle boots, a leather jacket, and a
belt. No shirt, no jeans. Angela started to laugh.
They had to cut off the shirt and pants, said the nurse as he walked into the room behind
Angela. Im sure they would have cut off the jacket too, if I hadnt stopped them. Great jacket by the
way. Here. He handed a pair of green scrub pants to Oz. I had an extra pair of pants in the car.
Thanks. You must be Tracy.
And you must be Oscar.
Just Oz.

Okay, Just Oz, how are you feeling this morning?

Well, Id be lying if I didnt say my ribs were a little stiff. And my shoulder hurts like shit.
Your ribs are bruised up pretty good. Your shoulder was dislocated, but the doctor managed to
pop it back in. No broken bones. Youll probably want to go see your doctor in a few days. By the
way, nice collection of scars. Does your job involve acting as a human knife block?
Thats a new one. He would remember that one to tell his brothers.
Seriously, do you get that many scars winning or losing?
Winning mostly. You should see the other guys. Im sorta what you would call a bounty hunter.
The answer wasnt a complete lie. He and many of the other demon hunters acted as bounty hunters,
not only for the money but to help explain injuries, and to account for their unusual and well-stocked
collection of weapons.
Sort of, eh? It would appear that its a rather dangerous line of work. You must meet some
really mean dudes.
The chicks are just as bad. I started shaving my head after a young lady ofshall we saylow
moral standards got a good chunk of my scalp along with a handful of hair she pulled out. Oz turned
his head and showed them both a ragged scar above his ear. That situation had earned him a good
deal of teasing from his brothers.
Angela didnt see the humor in guys getting beaten and bloodied. She never understood the
appeal of Fight Club; even Brad Pitt could not hold her attention for long in that movie.
The two men continued to banter back and forth. She studied Ozs broad shoulders and tapered
waist, and the promise that the tight boxer briefs hinted lay beneath. What deep and secret desires
could this big scarred man awaken in her? A sudden heat spread through her body. Although the offers
came regularly, she hadnt had sex in almost a year. For some reason, the guys she dated thought,
because she wore a skimpy costume, her morals were also small and sparse. Usually that was not the
case. This man, however, was making her think otherwise. Once again, she forced her eyes back up to
his face.
Im assuming there is no medical reason I need to stay? Oz asked.
No, but sorry, Im not allowed to let you leave. Police should be here shortly. They want to talk
to you about the accident, Tracy said.
Of course they do. There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Ozs voice. Is there any place we
can get some breakfast first?
Weve got cereal and juice and milk. Ill go bring you guys a tray.
Thanks, said Oz.
You should be prepared for the cops to ask you about the scars, too. The doctor had to make a
note in your file about them, and Pettiworth was in the room.
Of course. Thanks for the warning.
No problem, replied Tracy. Ill go find you some cereal.
Thanks, Tracy, added Angela as the nurse left the room.
No rest for the wicked, Oz said.
I think the expression is no rest for the weary, she corrected.
Thats because you dont know me very well.
Oz kicked off his boots and stepped into the pants that Tracy had left with him. They hung short,
a couple of inches above his ankles. I thought you said Tracy was big! remarked Oz, and Angela
laughed.
****

Almost an hour had passed, and Angela sat in the waiting room reading a magazine. The fashion
rag, full of lots of ads and very few articles, was only two months oldmuch fresher than she would
have given the medical center credit for. She reached for the cup of cold coffee and then changed her
mind.
Hey, Oz said as he came around the corner with the sheriff. The officer continued on his way
to the nurses desk.
The big biker was a comical sighttoo-short medical pants, motorcycle boots, bandaged ribs,
and a leather jacket.
She bit her lip to hide her laughter.
Thanks for the sympathy, he said as he looked down at himself. Its either these or back to my
briefs. I dont think the sheriff would like me to walk around in those. How about you?
Angela felt her cheeks grow warm. She dropped the magazine back on the table and stood up.
You look fine. No one else will laugh. The bandages will make people feel sorry for you, even if the
pants dont. She bit back another laugh.
So, what are you still doing here?
She had asked herself that same question half a dozen times in the last hour. She knew nothing of
the giant man whose body suggested a rough and dangerous life, but she had always found it unfair
that people misjudged her brother Bobby. She was not about to do the same. Yes, Oz might look
dangerous, and his job might be dangerous, but that didnt mean the man himself was a threat. And
something about him intrigued her.
I didnt know if you needed a lift back to your motorcycle, or home, or whatever.
ThatsThanks. The sheriff said my bike is in worse shape than me, and that it was towed to a
local mechanic. Said I wont be able to drive it til its fixed. Maybe you could take me over there?
Sure. Oh, and here are your keys, she said digging into her pocket and handing the set of keys
and chain to Oz. Do you have someonea wife or friendwho can pick you up, or will you need a
lift to your home?
No wife. And Im not sure how many friends are available right now. But you dont even know
where I live.
Well, I assumed it wouldnt be too far. Is it?
Oz gave a deep chuckle. Its about twenty minutes or so from here, and its toward Nevada
where I believe you said you were headed. That okay?
Sure. No problem. Angela picked up her purse. So, do you know where we can find that
mechanic?
****
Oz went inside to talk to the mechanic while Angela sat in the car and waited.
Why hadnt she left last night? There must be a hotel somewhere nearby. Her brother always
teased her about taking in strays, cats and dogs as a kid, men as she got older. There was something
different about Oz though, something about this man that called to her.
She chewed her bottom lip as she studied Oz. Even in his too-short hospital pants and leather
jacket, he was a sexy and attractive man. A flashback of him in his boxers and the sudden heat
returned to her core. She didnt view his powerful build as a sign of danger; no, it suggested instead a
haven of strength. He was a lot like her brother, and yet Bobby certainly never made her feel as sexy
or as wanting as this giant man did. How would it feel to be held in the safety and strength of his
arms?
She shook her head. What would be the point? A full days drive separated their lives, and

except for the fact he was a bounty hunter and rode a motorcycle, what else did she know of this
imposing man?
Despite the unseen fog of conflict that swirled around her, Angela took a peek in the rearview
mirror, grabbed her eyeliner, and quickly touched up her makeup. She was just putting the stuff back
in her purse when Oz leaned in the car window.
Would you mind a bit of a detour? he asked, arms resting on the open window. My bag must
have gotten thrown loose from the bike. Maybe we could go take a quick look for it.
You dont think maybe the sheriff has it?
No. I think he would have said something if he did. Im damn sure he would have said
something if he had found it and looked inside. Oz climbed in next to Angela. Tiny, shitty Japanese
car.
They drove about ten minutes before Angela pulled over to the side of the road. Although police
cars and the tow truck had added to the crumpled grass, he could still see where the motorcycle had
gone off the road and where it had come to rest in the long grass.
He walked behind, appreciating the way Angelas ass moved as she maneuvered down the hill.
When they reached the indentation of where the bike landed, he crouched down and surveyed around
in all directions, trying to recall exactly what had occurred the previous night. He scratched his leg
where the grass tickled the skin between pant and boot. The trees!
Would you mind looking over there? He pointed in the opposite direction. Ill search that
way. He nodded toward the trees, certain that was where he would find the bag.
Angela did as asked and headed toward the long grass while Oz went the other way. Last night, a
car had stopped at the top of the hill. Not knowing if it was friend or foe and unable to fight in his
condition, the cold sweat of discovery had prompted him to throw the bag toward the trees and away
from the road.
Keeping an eye on Angela, he located the leather satchel. He opened the bag, checked the
contents, and then did up the leather ties. The ancient blades were still safe. Found it, he called.
****
Oz sat in the passenger seat, and inhaled the floral smell of Angelas perfume. She even smelled
sexy. What did she taste like? Stop it! She shouldnt even be here. He should have called Jaredor
anyone elseto come pick him up.
He tried to get comfortable in the too-small seat as he provided directions.
So youre a bounty hunter? she asked.
No, actually Im a demon hunter. Yep. It pays the bills.
How did you get into that?
I always wanted to be in law enforcement, but things dont always work out as we plan
Like when a bunch of demons shoot up your town, your wife, and yourself. so I ended up
becoming a bounty hunter.
Well, you are still getting some of the more unsavory elements off the street.
Yeah, although its a little less glamorous. Turn left, he said pointing ahead.
You dont strike me as someone who is in it for the glamour. My brother wanted to be a cop.
He was in a car fire, though, his third year of high school. It ruined his chances at a football
scholarship and his future as a policeman. But he did well. Went on to be a park ranger and loved it.
He still got a uniform, and a chance to serve and protect.
You and your brother close?
We were. Im actually on my way back from burying him.

Oh, shit. Im sorry. How did he die? If it even sounds like demon work, I promise you Ill
advance the fiend to the top of my to-do list.
Wrong place, wrong time. He survived fire, and grizzlies, and all sorts of crap. He was out
running one day and got hit by a car. Drunk driverhit and runin the middle of the afternoon. The
guy just left him there. There is some justice in the world, I guess, because the driver ended up
crashing his car into a tree about ten miles further. He was dead when they found him. The driver, that
is. They say it was about two hours before someone noticed Bobby and stopped.
Fuck. I really am sorry, Angel. Another time, another place and he could see himself spending
time to comfort this beautiful lady.
Thanks. Anyway, as I said, I was on my way back home when I saw the accident, and well, you
know the rest.
So, where is home? he asked.
Vegas. Ever been?
No. Id like to visit some day though. Did you and your brother grow up there?
We moved around quite a bit. I was actually heading to California to be a dancer, but I never
made it past the bright lights of Vegas.
What kind of dancing do you do?
What kind of dancing do most girls do when they end up in Vegas?
Youre a stripper? Oz sounded surprised. Hot. Very hot.
Yes, it certainly was. Why did he have this effect on her? She opened her window a little more.
I was, for all of about three days. I mean, I didnt go to Vegas planning to be a stripper, but it was
easy work and paid well. At least I thought so until I found out the extra things my boss wanted me to
do. So I quit. I worked here and there for a year or so, and then I was auditioning for one of the casino
shows when an opportunity came up. The casino wanted attractive girls who were smart enough to
deal blackjack while wearing a bra and chaps, and who could still concentrate while being hit on a
hundred times a night. Pays good; tips are great.
Hot and smart. Nice combination. Pull in up there.
Angela turned at the nameless gray mailbox and began the short trip down the dirt drive. The tiny
farmhouse sat lonely, surrounded by an empty expanse of grass and then forest. She pulled to a stop in
front of the small two-story structure.
Look, Angel, I would love to invite you in right now for lunch, but after that stripper story and
watching you walk around in those jeans and boots all morning, I have to be honestfood is the last
thing on my mind.
Angelas gaze fell to Ozs lap. His obvious erection fought against the green hospital pants. She
chewed her lip as she glanced back up to meet unabashed lust in his eyes. Forget being held in his
arms, she ached to feel his powerful hands all over her body. Desire warmed between her legs.
She turned off the engine and opened her door. Luckily, I think lunch is the most overrated meal
of the day.
She followed him the short distance from the car to the house, and then waited while he opened
the door. What had she gotten herself into? Alone at a strangers house out in the middle of nowhere.
No, he wasnt like that. She was certain.
Oz preceded her into a small kitchen, and she jumped as the screen door slammed closed behind
her. Her hands shook as Oz took her coat and purse from her. He dropped them along with his own
coat into a nearby chair.
He shucked off his boots and kicked them into the corner, then scooped her up in his arms before

she had a chance to look at the house.

Oz, be careful, she began, but her warning went unheeded. Oblivious to the injured shoulder
or the tape around his ribs, he carried her up the stairs to the bedroom.
Dropping her on the bed, he pulled the tie on the medical pants, and stepped out of the scrubs
and his briefs in one swift motion. His cock stood huge, perfectly proportioned to the titanic man.
Maybe she should be concerned. She drank in the sight of him as she unzipped her boots and
shimmied out of her jeans.
She just finished taking off her panties, when he was over her, crushing his mouth down on hers,
trapping her breasts with the weight of his chest. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, and she
moaned a welcoming response as her hungry hands took inventory of the muscles on his back.
Oz shifted, moving his mouth from Angelas bruised lips to her swollen breasts. She arched her
back, pressing herself into his mouth, and he sucked at the hardened nipples.
She shivered as Ozs fingers lightly brushed her bare mons on their way to her hot, moist sex,
and she shuddered when his two fingers smoothly slipped inside. Her muscles tightened around his
fingers, and she moaned again as she struggled against the building pleasure.
He left her on the bed, breathless, while he plucked a condom from a nearby drawer and
sheathed his swollen manhood. Using his legs, Oz parted her thighs, and penetrated her in one quick
thrust. She gasped and cried out at the exquisite pain, amazed that she surrendered to his size with
such ease.
He put his hands under her bottom, and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist as he lifted
her from the bed. Still inside of her, Oz sandwiched Angela against the wall. The rough texture
scratched intimately at her back as she rode him faster and faster.
Ozs tongue explored deep in her mouth. God, she couldnt hold out much longer. The strength in
his arms continued to lift her up and down, his shaft buried deep within her, and her fingers dug into
the muscles of his back. Sparks ignited in her brain as the fire exploded in her core. She leaned her
head back against the wall as the waves washed through her, and she could feel her lover jerk and
shudder with his own spasms of release.
On shaky legs, he carried her back to the bed.
Angel, you feel like heaven when you come, he said and then collapsed them both onto the
crumpled bedspread.
****
You cant stay.
I know. Is she still sleeping?
Who? Oz feigned innocence.
Jared didnt answer; instead, he raised an all-knowing eyebrow.
Yes. She offered me a ride home, and
Shes very beautiful.
How do you know?
Another raised eyebrow. We keep an eye on our ownyou know that. I felt your danger and
stopped by the hospital. She was asleep in the chair. Tell me what happened.
Oz recounted what he could remember from the accident.
Was it the same demon that scored you?
I cant be sure. I didnt see either of them. It was getting dark and the windows were tinted. I
saw red eyes though in the passenger seat. I think its safe to assume at least one of the occupants was
him.

Nothing is safe until he is dead. He has your blood and he will not give up until one of you is
dead. Try to stay inside for a bit. Youre protected as long as youre here. The spells are on, yes?
Yes, Oz confirmed. Somewhere far off in the trees, birds chirped; even they could not come
close to the house unless he wanted them near.
Sometimes, like now, Jareds parental concern struck Oz as funny since they were both about the
same age in physical yearsmid thirties. Jared, however, had died many years before and was
therefore much older. Add to that the fact the great hunter had brought Oz back from the dead. Jared
was his mentor and therefore in many ways like a father.
Ill gather some more of our brothers, and when I return we can go on a search for the monster.
Perhaps a littlerelaxationwith this new woman will do you good.
She deserves better, Oz said. He stared at the worn floorboards, and kicked at a curl of
peeling paint. She was beautiful, and funny, and sexy. Why would she want to involve herself with a
man like him?
Youre a good man, Oz. I wouldnt have chosen you otherwise.
Im a murderer.
Jared placed his hand on Ozs arm. Youre a man of honor and duty. We kill to keep evil away
and make the world a better and safer place, even if most people dont know it. We are not
murderers, and you need to cut yourself some slack. Relax and have some fun with your woman, the
elder hunter whispered. Here she comes now.
Angela padded down the stairs in bare feet. The voices on the front porch stopped as she got
closer.
Its okay, Angel. Come on out, called Ozs deep timbre.
She pushed open the screen door and stepped out into the warm afternoon air. She inhaled the
smell of pine needles and fresh country air, not something often experienced living in Vegas.
Oz stood with another man, slightly shorter and of leaner build. He was dressed in worn leather
and black jeans, similar to the outfit Oz had been wearing. Even the dagger-like pendant around his
neck was similar, although the strangers held a red stone. Like Oz, the man had an air of confidence
and authority. She wondered if perhaps the two were brothers.
Angela, this is my good friend, Jared.
A pleasure to meet you, Angela. He extended a hand.
Likewise, she said, and offered her hand in return. She couldnt place the accent.
Jared heard about the accident and dropped by to make sure I was okay.
Yes, and since my job here is done, Id best be on my way.
I was just about to make lunch. Would you care to stay?
Not this time, my friend. Duty calls. I will return soon, however, as we discussed. We can talk
more at that time.
I didnt mean to interrupt. I can go back inside.
No, my dear, I really must be going. Besides, Im sure your beauty is more soothing to Oz than
the ramblings of an oldfriend.
Angela stood on the front porch as Jared got into his car. Not until his visitor turned out of the
driveway did Oz open the door to go back in to the house. He waited for her to enter first.
I hope youre okay with eggs and toast. I didnt have much else available on short notice. He
walked over to the counter where everything was already laid out.
Eggs are fine, she replied, sitting on one of the cracked vinyl chairs. She smiled sadly as she
ran her hand along the cool Formica table. Mom, and Bobby, and blueberry pancakes. Childhood.

Everything okay? he asked.

Fine, she replied as the sound of Elviss voice sang out in the distance.
Oz looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
My phone, she explained. My purse is?
Over there on the chair. He directed with a spatula.
She tugged the purse out from under her coat, and spilled the contents of the bag all over the
floor. Lipstick and eyeliner rolled toward the fridge, while Bobbys gun fell and landed with a heavy
thunk on the floor. They both stared at the weapon while Elvis sang the last bar of the song and then
the phone went quiet.
Ah, whats that? asked Oz, arms folded, and spatula in hand.
A gun.
I know its a gun. But why do you have it hidden in your purse?
It belonged to Bobby. Its one of the few things I decided to keep. I figured I would get a
license for it when I got back to Nevada. I took it out of the trunk when I stopped to help you. In case
the guys in the SUV came back.
Is it loaded? asked Oz.
I dont know.
Do you even know how to use it?
Not really. I figured I would take lessons when I got back home.
Well, then, Ive just figured out what well do after we eat.
****
They stood in the warm sunlight behind the house. Oz had nailed a paper plate to an old picnic
table that he had turned on its end. A football field of empty grass stood between them and the dense
forest surrounding his home.
She tried to ignore the spicy scent of Ozs cologne and the pressure of his powerful chest against
her back. She tried not to think of his well-defined arms as they encircled her, or the strong, calloused
hands that covered her own. Focus on the gun. Smooth. And hard. And deadly.
Now aim at the center of the plate, Oz directed. Nearby, an old door sat across the arms of
two ancient lawn chairs forming a table. The empty revolver case sat open on it. Oz walked over and
retrieved a sweating bottle of water.
Angela squinted along the barrel of the revolver as he had shown her and fired.
The deafening echo of the first shot rang loudly. Now she understood why police on television
wore ear protection at the firing range. Maybe she could ask Oz. Yeah, right. Did he look like the sort
who wore ear muffs to fire a gun?
Not bad, Angel. Try again.
She lifted the revolver and shot three more times at the paper plate. Two of the bullets found
their target.
Wont your neighbors call the sheriff? she asked, turning to her teacher.
Angel, baby, lower the gun. Remember?
She regarded the revolver pointed at Ozs flat, yet scarred, stomach. Sorry.
No problem. Now, what were you asking?
Wont your neighbors be concerned about the gunfire?
Well, there arent really too many neighbors around to worry, but out here the country folk only
worry when a single shot is fired. Shots like ours and folks know were practicing or hunting. Only
one, and people wonder if someone got caught with someone elses wife or if some idiot accidently

shot themselves.
No neighbors. She scanned around again at the empty solitude. Isnt that kind of
Lonely? he finished.
Actually, I was thinking scary.
Oz raised an eyebrow, and she started to laugh. I guess there isnt much that scares you.
Not much. What about you?
Men with beards and things that go bump in the night.
Sounds like a bad run-in with Santa.
Stepfather, actually.
A muscle twitched at the corner of Ozs mouth and his hands balled into fists. What happened?
To me? Nothing. Bobby was my protection. Vince seemed like a nice guy until he married my
mom. Then he started drinking more and hitting my mom. Bobby and I were still just kids, maybe eight
and ten. We just hid in my bedroom and Bobby would hold me while I cried. One night Vince came
home, and I guess he was looking for a little variety, so he came into my room. I dont think he was
going to rape me or anything like that. I was too afraid to move, when suddenly Vince goes flying
across the room, Bobby clinging to his back like a bat outta hell. Bobby started hitting him and
punching him, and yelling at him to get out and never come back.
And did he?
Well, it was his house actually, but I guess either Vince coming after me or Bobby standing up
to him was a wake-up call for my mom. We packed up and moved across three states the next day.
Angela didnt realize she was crying until she felt a tear tickle the side of her nose.
Oz took the gun from her dangling arm and put it on the makeshift table. He pulled her tight
against his chest. You wont need to worry about anything like that again after were done today.
She relaxed into the resolute strength of his embrace.
****
Angela woke with one of Ozs arms hidden under her pillow while the other rested heavily over
her hip. She was snuggled back into him, his morning hard-on pressed steadfast against her bottom.
She had promised herself that she would leave after lunch, but lunch turned into shooting
lessons, then into late night steak and beans for dinner, and then to more sex.
Yes, he reminded her of Bobby. His eyes. His build. But the man curled up behind her walked
with confidence and an air of experience beyond his years. Bobby never had that! Would a sister even
notice that about her brother?
Maybe she should slow down. She had no family left. Everyone she loved had been torn away
from her. There was a hole in her lifeand her heart. Maybe she was rushing to fill the latest void.
And yet, Oz seemed to belong in that void.
His hand began to explore from her hip to her breast; he gently twisted the nipple between his
fingers. Angela arched in response, and pressed herself harder against his erection.
Nice tattoo for a blackjack dealer, he said, as he kissed the black and red inked picture of the
two playing cards.
Actually, I got the tattoo before I landed the job, so I guess becoming a dealer was kind of
fated. Ace and KingAKthose are my initials. Its Angela Knight, by the way.
Oscar McAvoy. Pleasure to meet you, he said as his mouth moved to her neck. His hand traced
the curves of her body down over her hips, and his teeth nipped at the sensitive lobe of her ear. His
fingers eased into her growing wetness, first one and then a second.
All was silent but for the sucking moistness of her, when he suddenly stopped what he was

doing. Shhhh, he whispered into her ear.

Oz got out of bed, and kept low as he made his way to the window, turning his head from left to
right. What had he heard? She strained to listen.
Get dressed quickly. And stay here, no matter what, he whispered. Im sorry. I should never
have brought you here, but I thought we would be safe.
The large man slipped on a pair of jeans that had been lying on the chair. From the satchel they
had retrieved from the accident site he pulled a long double shoulder holster. He slipped both arms
into the battered leather, took one last glance at her, and ran out the bedroom door.
The front door slammed. What was that noise? Was that the sound of metal clashing? She went to
the window and lifted the corner of the curtain to peer out. Oz stood in the middle of his yard. He held
a short, thick sword in each hand and was fighting off three guys in ugly monster masks. Two of the
masked attackers wore gloves with short knives attached like fingers, while the third man held what
appeared to be a two-headed scythe.
The handgun she had practiced with yesterday was locked in her trunk, but she had seen a
shotgun in the kitchen corner. She had not actually agreed to stay in the room when he asked. She
slipped on her jeans and grabbed a denim shirt from the back of the bedroom door, buttoning the
garment up as she made her way down the stairs.
Angela opened the door and stood rooted to the spot. Oz defended himself against the
trespassers with undeniable skill. Barefoot, in only his jeans and the holster, he wielded the two
weapons with obvious experience. The newly risen sun reflected ribbons of yellow and orange off
the silver blades as he battled one of his attackers. The second man was on the ground. Where had the
third guy gone?
Angela stepped forward and the porch door swung closed with a bang. Damn, she said
between clenched teeth as Oz and the two men looked over. So much for the element of surprise.
Taking two more steps, she approached the corner of the porch. Oz continued to duel with both
weapons against the gloved man. The intruder was backing away, leading Oz to Angelas right. The
other man with the scythe-like weapon was now behind Oz. He rose to his feet and raised the deadly
blades over his head, ready to strike. Angela lifted the shotgun. Stance. Aim. Fire.
Her shot missed, but the surprise allotted Oz the time he needed. He brought his blade up and
across the throat of the man he had been fighting, and then turning quickly he arced the other sword up
and over, beheading the second man.
Her mouth fell open, and she slowly crumpled to the porch floor.
Covered in blooda mixture of his own and the intrudersOz strode toward the deck. He
wiped the blood off the two small swords onto his jeans, and returned them to the holster on his back.
Angela sat silently. What had she just seen? Had he killed those men?
Oz ignored the stairs and jumped up on the deck. He crouched down next to her. Angel, baby, I
told you to stay inside. Are you okay?
Im fine. I think. But...where are the bodies? Her eyes scanned the empty expanse of field. Oz
turned. Piles of gray ash and loose clothing were all that were left of the bodies. Even as they
watched, the ash started to disappear, carried off by the cool morning breeze.
Gone, he replied.
Gone where?
Hell, I guess.
Had she imagined the monstrous faces? Was it possible she was dreaming? They werent
human, were they?

No.
And you?
Yes. Well, I was.
And now? After all she had witnessed, she felt surprisingly calm.
****
He had been a sheriff, married but a short time, no children. He had been smaller then. Not
shorter, of course, but thinner. His mother had always called him a long, tall glass of water. It didnt
make sense to him fifty years ago, and it didnt make any more sense now.
He and his wife had lived on a small farm on the outskirts of town. Her idea, not his.
He remembered being tied to a horse and dragged through town. He remembered the dust and
dirt in his eyes, and nose, and mouth. He remembered the people coming out to see what all the ruckus
was, but they could not do anything for fear of their own lives. He didnt blame them.
He remembered being tied upside down to a tree. He remembered that the first bullet hurt the
most, and he remembered the sound of their laughter. He remembered the metallic taste of the blood
as it ran into his mouth, and the sharp sting as it went into his eyes. He remembered opening his eyes
and thinking that angels were supposed to wear white, not dark jeans and a Stetson.
The stranger took out a sword and cut him down. The stranger saved him, and helped him mend.
And then the stranger asked Ozs permission to kill him.
It didnt hurt as much that time. The sword was quicker than being used for target practice.
The stranger was Jared, wasnt it?
Oz stared at her.
His pendant. Its the same as yours, she explained.
Oz reached up to the small dagger he wore. Yes, the man was Jared. Jared, myself, and our
brethren, were demon hunters. We hunt down and kill demons. Rapists. Murderers. Worse. Men who
feed upon the evil they commit to the point where they arent even recognizable as human anymore.
One managed to cut me with his claws a few days ago before escaping, and with my blood scent he
was able to track me here.
Was it himthe demonthat ran you off the road the other night?
I cant be sure, but I think it is a safe guess. I saw red eyes as the SUV pulled beside me. My
house offers protection. They must have followed my scent to the yard, but they wouldnt have been
able to come in. That is why I told you to stay inside.
Was hewas he one of them? Angela asked inclining her head to the empty field.
I think so. I wont know for sure for awhile. Demons arent very smart. Theyre consumed by
their need for pain and destruction. Jared and my brothers are coming soon and then well make sure.
I think for now, however, it is best that you leave.
****
Oz paced back and forth, the cue still in his hand but the game of pool forgotten.
What has your sword in a knot? Youre more restless than normal, and your game sucks.
Nothing, he said as he drained the last of the scotch from his glass. The cool burn of the liquid
felt like heaven to his throat. He walked to the cabinet mounted on the wall and returned the cue.
Dont lie to me, McAvoy. Ive known you for years. Something has you troubled. Ive never
seen you like thisthis preoccupied before. The demon who had your blood is dead. Jared took
aim, and sank the last ball. It cant be love, can it?
You know its not, replied Oz to the elder hunter. He stared at Jareds pendant, its miniature
hilt encrusted with a tiny ruby which spoke of the other mans seniority.

And why not?

We're demon hunters, Jared. We cant fall in love. What would the point be?
We can fall in love and you know it. Some hunters manage to fall in love and nurture
relationships. I have loved and lost. Just because I have no one now does not mean I will stay without
a mate forever. Love chooses us; we do not choose who we will love or who will love us.
Everything that happens today was written by the Fates long ago, and you cannot change that, young
Oz.
Oz walked to the bar and poured himself another scotch, the smell as heady as the nectar itself.
What was Angela doing right now? Did she think of him? I cant endanger her life again.
You are making excuses. In all these many years, you have only let two demons escape, and
they were both dead soon after. That is a number to be proud of. With the right spells and wards, you
and the woman you chose could be safe. It was the wrong place at the wrong time. That is all. A
demon attack like that at your house is unlikely to happen again.
Jared put down his cue and walked over to the bar. He sat on a scarred wooden stool beside his
friend.
So, what are you going to do? asked Jared.
Theres nothing to do. Theyre dead. They wont be back.
I dont mean about the demons. I mean about the woman.
****
Angela stopped at the corner sign and counted silently to three. As she turned onto her street, a
motorcycle pulled to a stop behind her. It had been two weeks, and yet every time she saw a
motorcycle, her mind jumped to thoughts of Oz. He had been dangerous and charming, and although
she tried, he remained unforgettable.
In shockfrom all she had witnessed and from the story which Oz toldwhen he suggested she
should leave, Angela simply walked back in the house, picked up her belongings, and drove away.
She still had his shirt, and she wore it often.
She had spent the last two weeks working, or at least trying to concentrate on work, but her mind
kept returning to Oz. Not about the fight or his story about being a demon hunter. As incredible as that
all was, she believed everything he said. Even more than the story, her thoughts kept returning to the
man.
She hadnt thought to ask for Ozs phone number before she left and his number, as suspected,
was not listed.
Why did it matter? His life, crazy as it was, was a days drive away. It was not as if they would
go out on dates. He wasnt the sort of guy that would be interested in internet dating.
Besides, he had probably forgotten about her the moment she left. Did he feel the same way?
Unlikely.
What would a demon hunter want with someone as ordinary as herself?
Angela parked her car in the narrow driveway and got out.
The motorcycle pulled up to the curb behind her, and the rider, leaning the bike over on its stand,
swung his leg over the bike. He lifted off his helmet and set it on the bike. It hadnt been her
imagination. It really was Oz.
She was once again awed at the impression he made, leather jacket taut across his broad
shoulders, faded jeans that hugged his thick thighs and emphasized the size of his manhood.
Hey, Oz said coming to stand next to her. He had a habit of standing close enough to be in her
space, and she wondered again if this were an intentional move on his part to intimidate and influence

people. The heat she had felt two weeks ago began to burn through her once again.
What are you doing here? Act casual.
Thought a drive to Nevada might be nice.
Its a bit out of the way for just a drive, isnt it?
Yeah, but I always wanted to visit Sin City. I thought a change of pace might put a little
excitement in my otherwise boring life. Oz reached up and brushed a piece of hair off her face. She
shivered as his fingers caressed her cheek.
Are you planning on staying for long?
Ill have to wait and see, Oz replied. For now I thought maybe you might invite me in for
dinner.
Angela smiled and, turning her back to Oz, unlocked the front door. Well, Id invite you in, but
to be honest, it isnt food that I have on my mind right now.
Thats okay, he said as he followed her through the open door. I think dinner is the most
overrated meal of the day.
A word about the author...
Charlotte Copper lives in Stouffville, Ontariothats in Canada, ehwith her husband,
daughter, and two part-time stepdaughters. When she isnt working at her full-time job or driving her
daughter around for volleyball, Charlotte likes to craft, read, go to movies, and, of course, write.
Charlotte admittedly tries to juggle far too many balls at once while working on a series of
(mostly paranormal) romance stories. Charlotte hopes to have all of these stories published some day
because, as a romance writer, she believes in happy endings!
You can visit her website at:
http://charlottecopperauthor.wordpress.com
or contact her at:
charlottecopper.author@gmail.com.

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