Archangel's Blade (Guild Hunter #4)(32)

“Your metabolism’s altered.” Along with so many other things.

A bitter laugh. “Yeah, and I can make men whip out their cocks and jerk off in front of me. Great superpower, huh?”

In point of fact, it was. Along with that ring of hypnotic green around her eyes and perhaps a murderous insanity, Sorrow had gained the ability to mesmerize people for short periods. Right now, she could only get them to commit acts they were already predisposed to engage in, but Dmitri didn’t think it would stay that way for long. In the time since Uram had bitten her, infected her, the changes in Sorrow had progressed at phenomenal speed.

Aware of her frustration at his lack of overt anger, he watched as she uncurled from her seat, graceful as a cat, and walked over to press herself against him. “Why haven’t you ever bled or f*cked me, Dmitri?” Glittering eyes. Hard words. “Not good enough for you?”

“I don’t sleep with little girls.”

Her head snapped back, eyes heavy with makeup slamming into his. “I’m no child.”

Dmitri didn’t bother to argue the point. Instead, taking her hand, he opened the door.

She resisted. “I—”

“Enough,” he said in a quiet tone that sliced through the pulsating music as if it didn’t exist. “I cut small, precise pieces out of a vampire today.” Honor hadn’t realized that Valeria was missing most of her heart beneath her robe by the time Honor walked back into the room. “I’m planning to do a lot worse to another. So I wouldn’t mess with me.”

Sorrow sucked in a breath, but didn’t speak again until they were out on the street, the late spring air brisk enough to raise goose bumps on her arms. “How long did it take?” she asked in a voice that trembled.

“What?”

“To become . . . inhuman?”

“Three months after my Making was complete.” That was how long Misha had screamed and sobbed in the chains across from him, how long Caterina’s ashes had lain exposed to the elements beside those of her mother.

“I’m sorry, Ingrede.” Standing beside the burned-out shell of the cottage, his dead son’s body cradled in his arms, the most precious of burdens. “Forgive me.”

Striding to the Ferrari, he wrenched open the passengerside door. “Get in.”

Sorrow obeyed, her defiance crushed by the brutality of his mood. Suddenly she looked heartbreakingly young, but Dmitri wasn’t about to cut her any slack. She’d had over a year of it. “Using vampiric abilities on mortals without approval can get you sentenced to the earth.” The punishment involved being buried alive in a coffin, given only enough blood to survive.

Her lower lip quivered.

“My coat’s in the back.”

Twisting, she pulled it over herself, shrinking down in the seat. “Are you going to put me in the earth?”

“No. That particular penalty’s been taken off the books.” Raphael had done it for Elena, a gift from an archangel to his consort. “I’ve been tasked to come up with a replacement.”

Sorrow tugged his coat tighter around herself. “I’m sorry.” The hesitant, scared words of the child he’d called her.

Sighing, he drove them over the Harlem River and cut across Manhattan to traverse the George Washington Bridge, before bringing the car to a stop on a clifftop outlook that faced Manhattan. The cityscape was a spread of gemstones against the black of the sky, the angels sweeping across it cast in silhouette. “I’m putting you under Contract, Sorrow.” It was the only way to teach her control. “Doesn’t matter if you were Made without your consent, you won’t be free until I decide you’re not a risk.”

Having unzipped and pulled off her boots during the drive, she curled her legs under her on the seat. Tiny as she was, it didn’t take much effort. “Will you teach me what I need to know?” A plea.

“No. Venom will take care of it.” The girl was becoming dependent on him.

“I’m cold.”

“I know, Misha. You’re being a very brave boy.”

“They hurt Mama and Rina.” Valiant attempts to fight his sobs. “They hurt Mama and Rina, Papa.”

The sound of Misha’s cries still haunted him. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, add another voice to that. “Venom will also start teaching you how to control your talent.” Though Sorrow didn’t know it, Venom’s ability to mesmerize put hers in the shade. “I expect you to follow his commands.”

“I will.” A pause filled with things unsaid after that quiet acknowledgment. “What am I becoming?” she asked at last.

He could’ve lied to her, given her false hope, but that would only get her dead. Turning, he reached forward to tuck a wing of slick raven hair, streaked with color stolen by the night, behind her ear. She flinched and he knew she’d felt the cold blade of his anger. “No one knows. But the one thing I will not allow you to become is a problem. Do you understand?”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Yes.” A whisper before she turned her face into the hand he still had brushing her cheek. “I’m scared, Dmitri.”

“Papa, I’m scared.”

Sorrow wasn’t Misha, small and defenseless, but she might as well have been. And so, in spite of his vow to maintain his distance, he didn’t tell her that she should be afraid, that almost everyone believed her chances of surviving this were beyond limited. Instead, he caressed the dark silk of her hair and thought of the soft black curls he’d once felt under his palm as his son’s body lay wracked with convulsions in his arms.