Archangel's Blade (Guild Hunter #4)(26)

Dmitri seemed to sense the instant she steadied, because he straightened and said, “I’ve brought you a visitor.”

“Oh?” A curious question as Dmitri shifted aside to allow Honor to step into the opening.

Valeria was reclining on a cream-colored chaise lounge set in front of a window, dressed in a crimson satin robe that stopped midthigh—the belt tied loosely enough at her waist that the inside curve of one perfect breast was artfully exposed. She’d angled her head to ensure the early morning light hit it at the ideal angle to heighten her already stunning features. Long golden brown hair curled over her shoulders to bounce against nipples gone hard and ready where they touched the satin.

As an invitation, it couldn’t have been clearer.

Until that deep blue gaze turned from its appreciation of Dmitri’s body to fall on Honor. Suddenly Valeria was limbs in motion, fury a red flush across the creamy skin of her face as she rose to her feet—but Honor glimpsed a split second of the most vicious hunger beneath the rage. Valeria was recalling how she’d used Honor, debased her. And she wanted only to do it again.

“Well . . .” Calculation in those stunning eyes that spoke of immortal beauty. “You brought me a snack. You always were a sweetheart.”

Honor saw Dmitri tense and—without thinking—reached out to touch him on his back out of sight of Valeria. Not yet. Coiled tension, taut muscle, but he didn’t strike, this beautiful predator with death in his eyes. “This is a nice room,” he murmured instead in that silken voice Honor never, ever wanted to hear in the dark.

Lines marred the smoothness of Valeria’s forehead. “What?”

“Small windows, though,” Dmitri continued, his back flexing slightly under Honor’s spread hand. Startled to realize she was still touching him, she dropped it. “Means,” he added, “there’s only one exit.”

Honor had always known Dmitri was ruthless, but it was when she glimpsed the dull haze of fear creep over the lake blue of Valeria’s gaze that she understood exactly where he stood in the food chain. The female vampire glanced around, her eyes wild when she faced them again. “It was just a bit of fun, Dmitri. You know how it is.”

“Hmm. Tell me.”

Valeria seemed to take the slow purr as encouragement. “Life can get so tedious after centuries of excess. It was a naughty little thrill to have the hunter at our disposal.” Walking forward, sleek thighs exposed in teasing glimpses through the crimson satin, she ignored Honor to stroke her hand down Dmitri’s chest, slow and with unhidden pleasure.

Honor’s fingers clenched on the gun. It took teeth-gritting control not to put a bullet right between those blue eyes so wide and alluring.

Dmitri simply raised his hand, closed it over the vampire’s. “An intriguing game,” he said, his voice dropping as he tugged Valeria ever closer, until he was speaking with his lips brushing her ear, her breasts flush against his chest. “I wouldn’t have thought you that creative.” He fisted his free hand in the brunette’s hair.

Valeria’s eyes closed, her body shuddering from the contact with his muscled body. “I would take the credit”—a husky whisper—“but you’d find me out.”

Dmitri’s laugh would’ve made Honor thrust a blade in his gut and run as far as humanly possible. But Valeria smiled, opened her eyes. “I got an invitation.” A greedy look over at Honor. “Her fear was so potent by the time I got there, but she wouldn’t scream or beg. Not for weeks.”

Dmitri jerked Valeria’s face back toward him, the act ungentle. “You kept the invitation, didn’t you?”

“Yes. It was a memento.” Lips trailing over his jaw. “Did you bring her for me, Dmitri? Can I have her all to myself?”

Honor touched her hand to Dmitri’s back again, not knowing why she believed that would do any good, not even knowing why she thought she could possibly read this vampire so old and powerful it made her bones ache to think about it.

“First tell me who you shared her with,” he whispered, ignoring the fact that Valeria had tugged open the tie of her robe to expose creamy skin framed in crimson. “I want to know who else has your tastes.”

“But I want her to myself.” Petulance.

“Valeria.”

The woman all but orgasmed at the command in that voice full of knife blades and midnight screams. “They say you make it hurt, Dmitri.”

In response, he used his grip on her hair to pull her head back so hard it made tears form in her eyes. She licked her lips, made no effort to cover the dark pink nipple exposed by the shift of satin over skin. “Tommy. I saw Tommy there once when I ran late during my turn with her.”

Honor remembered that day, remembered the elegant female voice arguing with the deeper male one as Valeria cajoled the man into allowing her to stay.

“We’ll play together.” The sound of clothes brushing up against each other, the wetness of a slow kiss. “You know you like the way I play.”

The man—Tommy—had eventually folded. Together the two of them had . . . they’d made Honor scream. Her hand clenched on Dmitri’s T-shirt as he moved the hand not in Valeria’s hair to close around her throat. “Just Tommy?”

“There were others, but I never saw. We had our own times.” Breasts rising and falling, lips parting.