Archangel's Blade

21

“Anyone,” he said in a quiet voice after ordering Jewel to shut up, “who wants to come out of this alive, get out and wait at the estate. If you’d like to make me very happy, try to run.”

The guards staggered out and—to their credit—went to check on the other two. They left the one whose neck Dmitri had broken, which meant he was too young to have survived that, but pulled up the driver to drag him away. All of it in absolute silence. Jewel Wan, meanwhile, shoved back her hair and got unsteadily to her feet, her knees bleeding below the hemline of a tight black silk dress, her palms scratched from where she’d broken her fall.

None of it did anything to diminish her haughty elegance. “There you are,” she murmured to Honor. “Such a pretty morsel.”

Honor wanted to shoot her so badly that her entire body trembled, but she didn’t. “I won’t kill you and make this easy,” she said, forcing herself to walk up and take a seat on the hood of the Town Car that no longer had a roof, the headlights blazing below her. “Dmitri?” When he moved to brace his hand against the hood, his body angled toward her, she said, “Not a single piece of your soul.”

Close as she was to him, her cheek brushing the slight roughness of his own, she saw him smile . . . saw, too, the terror that erased Jewel Wan’s tattered elegance. But the vampire was a businesswoman. “I can give you information.”

“You say that as if it’s a bargain worth making.” Dmitri leaned up against the Town Car, his shoulders fluid with muscle, the wicked sin of his scent in her every breath. “We both know you’ll tell me anything I want to know before this is over.”

Jewel flashed her fangs. “I’m a vampire of four hundred and fifty. You intend to sacrifice so much experience for, what, a little mortal amusement? I’ve had her, and she’s not that—”

Dmitri moved to backhand the vampire so fast and hard, she slammed up against a tree, crumpling to the ground with blood pouring out of her nose, a deep cut on her lip. “Now,” Dmitri said in a voice so rational, it raised the hairs on Honor’s nape, “tell me everything. And maybe I won’t order Andreas to give you some extra-special attention.”

A pained plea from the woman who looked unthreatening, fragile. Except Honor knew that was a lie. Jewel would always be a monster. Simply one in a package that had the ability to appear harmless. To offer her any mercy would be to sentence another victim to the horror Honor had barely survived. “Dmitri,” she said, because lethal, dangerous creature that he was, he was still hers and she would fight for him, “what did I tell you?”

“Sorry.” He grinned and it was shocking how very beautiful he looked even surrounded by the acrid scent of fear and blood. “Got caught up in the moment.” Returning his attention to Jewel, he said, “Why aren’t you talking?” in a voice that was only mildly interested—the same way a lion was only mildly interested in the prey it planned to rend when it got hungry.

“I got an invitation,” the vampire said at once, dribbling blood. “It’s in my study at home. On the desk.” She reached up to wipe away the blood trickling from her nose, smearing dark red across the porcelain of her skin. “Tommy was one of them. He insinuated something at a party and I had him followed. Stupid man never took precautions.”

Which was why, Honor thought, Tommy’s invitation had been permanently retracted. “You aren’t giving us anything we don’t already have.”

The vampire’s eyes snapped to her. “Shut up, mortal.”

Walking back to lean against the hood, Dmitri glanced at Honor. “Can’t I touch her a little?” His smile when he looked at Jewel was pure sex—if you liked your sex with a great deal of pain . . . if you liked to scream until your throat was raw. “Your skin, Jewel, so very soft,” he murmured, and while there was nothing overtly threatening about his words, if he’d been speaking to Honor in that tone, she’d have pumped him full of bullets and run like hell.

And then he took out the knife.

Jewel shoved herself back against the tree, began babbling. “Evert had to know. He and Tommy do everything together, but they weren’t part of the center. The one who organized this, he made very sure to keep his identity contained, but there’s a rumor in certain circles that he once worked at the Tower. How else would he know about the appetites of so many?”

“Certain circles,” Honor said, putting her hand on Dmitri’s shoulder, a silent reminder that Jewel wasn’t worth even a fragment of his soul. “Who?”

A single smile from Dmitri and the vampire gave up three names.

Fifteen more minutes of questioning later, it was clear she knew nothing else. While Dmitri hadn’t laid another finger on her, she was so petrified, her teeth were chattering, her eyes darting this way and that.

For an instant, Honor felt pity. “Enough, Dmitri.”

Moving with preternatural speed, he snapped Jewel’s neck before the vampire even had the chance to draw in a breath to scream. “She’s not dead,” he said after it was done. “At this level of strength, she’ll rise again unless I decapitate her. Venom can fly her to Andreas in the chopper.”

Shocked at the brutal swiftness of the punishment, she said, “I thought it would make me feel better, the idea of her being tortured, but it doesn’t.”

“There can be no mercy here.” The words of a man who had seen centuries pass, rivers of blood soak the earth. “The instant word gets out that we’re doing clean executions, the Made will lose the fear that ensures they don’t dare things such as this more often.” He sent a message to Venom as he spoke. “For the old ones, death is no threat. But pain . . . everyone fears pain.”

She understood what he was saying, certainly had no loyalty to Jewel, and yet—“It seems so . . .”

“Inhuman?” A grim smile. “We aren’t mortals, Honor. We never will be.”

She wondered if he was giving her a warning. If so, it was unnecessary. “I’ve always seen you, Dmitri.” No matter if she believed there was more to him, this vein of darkness was also an integral part of his nature, couldn’t be ignored or wished away.

Chopper blades sounded at that instant, and soon Venom was landing the machine. The vampire whistled when he saw the carnage, but said nothing, picking up Jewel Wan’s body and stowing it with all the care you might show to a sack of potatoes. “You want a ride?”

“No, we’ll drive.”

Venom slanted Honor an assessing look, but said nothing as he got into the helicopter and lifted off in a wild rush of air.

Leaving the abandoned Town Cars where they were, she and Dmitri got back into the rental. A couple of calls later, and Dmitri had organized a cleanup crew both for the cars and for the guards.

“What will happen to them?” she asked.

“Nothing to the two who didn’t lift a weapon against me as long as they prove to have had no knowledge of Jewel’s actions. The other one will suffer a punishment.” His eyes met hers for a second. “By disobeying me, he disobeyed Raphael. That can’t be permitted.”

The instant it was, Honor knew, many of the Made would break their bonds, surrender to bloodlust, begin to hunt living prey. “The three names she gave, do you know them?”

“Yes. They’re part of the same social circle as Jewel and the others.”

“She’s enough of a bitch that she might have snuck in a name that doesn’t belong, out of spite.”

“We’ll find out soon enough—I’ve sent instructions that they’re to be watched. They’ll be brought to the Tower for questioning tomorrow morning.”

Releasing a long breath, she said, “I just want to finish this.” Wanted to get on with the life she’d decided to live.

“You will.”

Sitting in the passenger seat with Dmitri tangling her in fur and chocolate and sin, luscious and irresistible, Honor watched the miles pass by, the motion soothing, lulling her into sleep . . . into dreams.

“You are my wife.”

“And you are a jealous man.” Shoving her hands into her hair she blew out a breath. “If anyone has cause to be jealous, it’s me.”

“You know I would never touch another woman.”

“And you think I would touch another man?”

Silence, his face harsh with shadows. “Other men covet you.”

Shaking her head, she reached out to lay her palm against his stubbled jaw. “I’m no great beauty.”

His fingers closed over her wrist, his other hand coming to lie at her waist. “You don’t see it, but I’m a man. I do.”

Sometimes she wondered what she was doing with him, this beautiful creature every woman in the village watched with admiring eyes. It was as if they knew how he moved when inside a woman, how he could play a woman’s body until she would do anything he desired. Except she knew they didn’t. For he had waited for her, though his body had to have demanded satisfaction, offers no doubt coming his way from women who did not honor their husbands.

“You are my heart,” she said, taking his hand and placing it over the beating organ. “It doesn’t matter if another man should give me a thousand promises, it’s to you that I belong.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

“Honor.”

Ignoring the masculine voice that tried to pull her into the waking world, she fought desperately to hold on to the dream—because the woman she was in that hazy place, she was loved, loved so deeply that it was a little terrifying.

“Honor.” A caress of orchids and gold, decadent, luxuriant, enticing.

She jerked upright in her seat to find that they were driving into the parking garage beneath her building. “I fell asleep.” In a car. With a man. With a vampire.

“You were smiling.”

“Just a dream.” One so vivid she could almost feel the stubble of her dream lover’s jaw on her palm. “Do you dream?”

Reaching across after parking the SUV, he stroked a finger over her cheek, where she could feel lines caused by sleep. “In sleep, I remember memories, times long past.”

She caught his hand against her cheek, had a disorienting sense of déjà vu. “Good memories?” she asked, the feeling shimmering out of existence as quickly as it had awakened.

Thick black lashes coming down, rising again. “There are times when even good memories aren’t welcome.” Remote words, but he didn’t break her hold.

Lights cut across the garage behind them an instant later, destroying the intimacy of the moment . . . and yet neither of them moved. “Come upstairs.” It wasn’t an invitation she would have even considered making a bare few weeks ago. But she’d been another woman then.

Dmitri rubbed his thumb across her chin before dropping his hand, but she didn’t need words to read the dark heat in his expression, his lips suddenly softer, erotically tempting. Pulse hammering in her throat, she got out of the car and led him to the elevators, aware of him twining fine tendrils of exotic scent around her. Not susceptible enough to be coerced by it, she allowed herself to luxuriate in the sensation.

He got a call just before they entered the apartment. She wasn’t able to figure out anything from listening to his half of the conversation, but he told her the details after he hung up. “Venom’s confirmed a watch on two of the names Jewel provided, is tracking the third.” Putting his cell phone on her coffee table, he said, “It might be better to keep an eye on them for the time being.”

Satisfying as it would’ve been to rush things, continued surveillance made sense. “I called Sara after we found out about the second hunt. All Guild personnel have been warned.” Honor had personally sent a message to Ashwini and been relieved to learn that her best friend was currently working a case with Demarco. Two hunters would be far, far harder to take.

Dmitri nodded. “I’ll make sure Venom keeps the Guild Director updated.” Sprawling on a sofa, he crooked a finger. “Come here.”

Kicking off her shoes and socks, she arched her back in a languorous stretch—both to loosen up tight muscles and to enjoy Dmitri’s eyes on her, hooded and dark and open in their appreciation. Stretch complete, she returned the favor. There was a delicious amount to admire. Black jeans, a plain belt with a tarnished buckle, a simple black tee—the stark shade threw the raw sensuality of his looks into even cleaner focus.

No woman, she thought, would kick him out of the house, much less the bed.

Padding across the carpet, she stood between his legs. “I’m going to freak out,” she said, and, yeah, it bruised her pride to admit that—but the only other option was to hide and Honor was through with being the rabbit Dmitri had called her.

He pointed at the shoulder holster and the knife sheaths.

“Off.”

She’d had a weapon on her every waking or sleeping moment since the attack—under her pillow, hidden down the side of the nightstand, on the back of the headboard. The idea of deliberately stripping herself of weapons with a vampire as powerful as Dmitri? It made her heart skitter against her ribs, her mouth turn dry as dust, her throat fill with grit.

“Want to keep a knife?” It was a low murmur of a question.

Honor gave the offer serious thought as she removed her gun and harness and stepped back to place them on the coffee table. The thigh sheath and the flashlight tucked into her back, along with a razor-fine blade worked into her belt, went next. She put the whole lot, belt included, beside the gun. Dmitri gave an intrigued look when she reached down her spine and removed a long knife from a hidden sheath, the blade as thin as the width of the nail on her pinkie. The single blade left was in the sheath she wore around her upper arm.

Touching it, she looked at the sensual, dangerous man on her sofa. Thought about cutting him again . . . and was kicked by a sense of rejection so deep, it would’ve shaken her if she hadn’t already been caught off guard by so many inexplicable reactions when it came to Dmitri. “No weapons,” she said as she placed her last knife on the table. “Give me yours.” Vampire or not, Honor knew she was smart enough to turn his own weapons against him.

Dmitri began to hand them over. It was her turn to stare. After they were both done, the pile of knives and guns on the coffee table looked like they’d cleaned out an armory. “I think we have a problem, Dmitri.”

“I’m not finished.” Unbuckling his belt, he began to pull it out.

Her eyes dropped. Maybe it was because she’d been blindfolded while Tommy and the others tortured her, but she had no trouble admiring a beautiful male body. And Dmitri’s . . . oh, yeah. “Same as mine?” she asked, stroking him with her eyes, his T-shirt pulled tight over rock-hard abs.

“Have a look.”

Taking the belt, she saw the thin wire worked into the leather. It could be pulled out with a single tug, used as a fatally efficient garrote. “Clever.”

“Illium gave it to me a couple of years ago.”

“I’d say he doesn’t seem the type”—she ran her thumbs over the leather softened by constant use—“but I’ve known my share of hunters who come across as harmless.”

“Put down the belt, Honor.” A sexy smile. “Unless you plan to use it.”

Stomach clenching, she dropped the belt and stepped back between his spread legs. “I had a feeling you’d be into belts and ropes.”

When she reached forward and pushed up his tee, he remained in his sprawled position, a pasha waiting to be served. His skin was the same dark tan shade on his abdomen as it was on his face. “Is your skin this tone all over?”

“Only one way you’re going to discover the answer to that.”