Angels' Pawn

Chapter Eight

Ashwini had never been more glad to get out of a place. Leaving at first light, she didn’t draw a clear breath until the taxi was at least ten minutes from the plantation house.

“You sensed things in Nazarach’s home,” Janvier commented from beside her.

“Not just his home.” If she’d had to touch Nazarach . . . . Her soul shrank from the horror. “Then there’s Antoine. Even Simone. She’s done some nasty things in her time.”

“And still you feel sorry for her.” Janvier sighed. “Why am I the only one you never feel sorry for?”

“Because you’re a pain in the ass.”

A masculine laugh as the taxi driver brought them to a stop at the train station. Paying him, she got out and grabbed her duffel as Janvier did the same with his. Callan had returned both early this morning, his eyes holding the promise of future retaliation.

“So,” Janvier said as she found some cash to buy a ticket from the machine, “we are back to being adversaries?”

“I owe you a favor. I won’t forget.”

“Neither will I.” Reaching forward as she took the ticket and turned, he cupped her cheek. “If I asked you to trust me, Ashwini, what would you say?”

“Words mean squat. It’s the doing that counts.” And because he’d bled for her, she raised her hand to his cheek, putting them in perfect harmony. “Thank you.”

His expression shifted, becoming starkly intimate in the hush of the early-morning platform. “Stay with me. I’ll show you things that’ll make you laugh in delight, scream in passion, cry for the sheer joy of it.”

He knew her, she thought. Knew her well enough to offer her the wildest of rides. “You’ve started the doing,” she murmured, “but you’ve got a way to go.”

“Who hurt you, cher?” A gentle question, and yet she saw the chill intent in his eyes.

Unsurprised he’d understood what she’d never told anyone, she shook her head. “No one you can kill.”

A slow blink, lashes sweeping down to cover his eyes. When they swept back up, she expected to see the Cajun charmer again. But what met her was that same simmering darkness, that feeling he was ready to spill heart’s blood. “Do you love him?”

“I did once,” she answered honestly. “Now I feel nothing.”

“Liar.” His fingers moved on her skin, hot and real and mercifully quiet. “If you felt nothing, you wouldn’t run so far and hard.”

Her spine went stiff, but she held his gaze as the train rolled into the station. “Maybe I run because I like it. The freedom, the excitement, why would I give that up?”

“Part of you is the wind,” he murmured. “Oui, that is true. But even the wind sometimes rests.”

Shaking her head, she slid her hand around the back of his neck, soaking in the intrinsically male heat of his skin. “Then consider me an endless storm.”

The Cajun kissed exactly as he looked—raw and earthy and lazy . . . in the best way. The patience of him made her toes curl with the knowledge that he’d kiss her as exquisitely in other, softer, darker places. Agile hands stroking over her back, he held her to him as he explored her as thoroughly as she explored him. Decadent, sharp, wild, the taste of Janvier filled her mouth.

And when she pulled away, he bit her lower lip. “Until next time, Guild Hunter.”

“I’ll be holding a crossbow next time.” It was a certainty, given Janvier’s penchant for pissing off high-level angels.

A slow, so slow smile. “You might be my perfect woman.”

“If I am, you’re in serious trouble.” She stepped back, and up into the train carriage, as the final warning tone sounded. “I don’t date vampires.”

“Who said anything about dating?” He gave her that wicked smile he seemed to save just for her. “I’m talking blood and sex and hunting.”

As the train pulled away, Ashwini knew she was in trouble. Because Janvier didn’t know her, he knew her. “Blood and sex and hunting.” It was one hell of a tempting proposition.

Fishing out her phone, she called the Guild Director. “Sara, I’ve changed my mind.”

“On?”

“The Cajun.”

“You sure?” Sara asked. “Last time you hunted him, you told me to keep you away from him or you’d end up in solitary confinement after throwing him into a lava pit.”

“Solitary confinement might be good for me.”

A pause. “Ash, you do realize you live in the Twilight Zone?”

The affection in the comment made her grin. “Normal is overrated. Just make sure I get any hunts where he’s involved.”

“You got it.” The Guild Director blew out a breath. “But I have to ask one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you two flirting?”

Ashwini felt her lips curve. “If he’s not gator-bait by the next hunt . . . possibly.”