Archangel's Blade (Guild Hunter #4)(43)

The sound was huge in the enclosed space, Sorrow’s scream a reverberating echo. Venom went down, clutching at his thigh. Tucking her gun back into the holster, Honor picked up her coffee again, surprised at her own calm. “No touching. Ever.”

The vampire grimaced, pulled himself into a sitting position against the wall, his hand clamped over a thigh pumping blood at a speed that would’ve promised death for a mortal. “Do you know how much this suit f*cking cost?”

On the other side of the counter, Sorrow leaned against the sink, wild color in her cheeks. “I want to learn to do that,” she said, staring at Honor. “To defend myself.”

A snort from the vampire, who was already beginning to heal. “I hear you did a mighty fine job of defending yourself today, kitty.” Sorrow’s snarl filled the air. “You should’ve ripped his nuts off before you killed him, you know,” Venom said in a considering tone. “Would’ve hurt like a bitch.”

Honor’s lips twitched. “Good advice.” Putting down her coffee, she watched as Sorrow went to clean up the mess she’d made, glaring at Venom when he picked up a broken piece to give to her.

“It wasn’t conscious,” the young woman said after a while. “I don’t know how I did it—I’m just a stupid kid on my own.”

No woman should ever be helpless.

The thought came from deep, deep within her. “I’ll teach you,” she said, and it was a decision that took no thought.

Venom pushed himself upright, though he continued to favor one leg. “You sure you want to invest the time? Sorrow here might have a very short life span.”

Dumping the broken shards she’d collected into the trash, Sorrow gave Venom a look that was eerie in its own way, a thin line of green glowing around the dark brown of her irises. “Someday,” she said in a voice as serene as a high mountain lake, “I’m going to break your neck. Then I’m going to saw it off with a hacksaw so I can take my time.”

Venom’s grin creased his cheeks. “I knew you had it in you, kitty.”





Dmitri had dealt with the Hernandez situation and was in his office by the time Honor drove the Ferrari into the Tower garage. Watching her enter the room, all feminine power and intriguing strength, he couldn’t imagine the terror-crippled woman he’d first met. Yet that terror lived inside of her—he’d tasted the ugliness of it in the air as he stroked his thumb over her skin that morning. “Sorrow?”

“Doing better than I expected.” An incisive look. “Venom is highly intelligent.”

“He’s one of the Seven for a reason.” Spreading a number of colored printouts on his desk, he motioned her over. “I just received an e-mail from the man I sent to investigate Tommy’s cabin.” The images were self-explanatory.

Honor’s body brushed against his own as she came to stand beside him. He wondered if she would dare remain so close if she knew how much control it was taking for him not to bend his head and kiss the delicate skin of her nape. She’d taste of salt and wildflowers, intermingled with an earthy femininity that sang a siren song to the man beneath the civilized surface.

“His attacker,” she said, her attention on the photo of Tommy’s head nailed up like a hunting trophy on his front door, “really wanted to shut him up.”

“Literally.” Satisfying himself with the thought that he would have her, he moved his gaze off the vulnerable skin so close and tapped the image. “They cut out his tongue.”

Her body pressed a fraction into him as she leaned over to pick up another photograph. “The place is a bloodbath.”

Weaving a curl of sin, rich as brandy and just as heady, around her was as natural to him as breathing. “I’ve got a team examining it.”

“Dmitri.” Husky censure, but no anger. “I’ll get ready to head—”

“You’re exhausted.” He took in the black circles under her eyes, the pallor, felt the ice of ruthless anger. “If you came up against one of them today you’d end up their blood pet all over again.”

Streaks of color high on her cheekbones. “You might order your people around, but don’t even try it with me.”

Some men liked women who knew how to submit; others, women who fought back. Dmitri didn’t have a preference either way. To do so would be to care for a female beyond a fleeting sexual connection. Yet when it came to Honor, he wanted to strip her bare in more ways than one, unravel the mystery of who she was to him. “A single phone call,” he murmured, gaze lingering on the full curves of her mouth in conscious provocation, “and Sara will deem you unfit for duty.”

That mouth flattened. “You think that’ll stop me?”

“No. But the fact that you have no idea of the location of Tommy’s cabin will.” His lips curved when he caught the calculation in her. Such an expressive face, had Honor, one that would never be able to hide anything from a man who knew how to read her. “Don’t bother to ask Vivek to dig it out for you unless you want him to become a permanent guest of the Tower.”

“Threats now, Dmitri?” It was somehow an intimate question, his name pronounced with an accent so perfect, it was a caress.

“You always knew I wasn’t a nice man,” he said, wanting to hear that voice in bed, in the warm hush of a pleasure-drenched night. “Go home. Sleep. Be a good girl”—he leaned close enough that their breath mingled, close enough that kissing her would take only the dip of his head—“and I’ll let you come on the chopper tomorrow morning.”