Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter #7)(48)

Not every vampire, however, was careful with his donor. It led to the formation of scar tissue beneath the skin at the most utilized sites. Not only was that bad for the donor but, over time, it made it more difficult for the vampire to feed. The Little Italy victim’s major fang sites had been so deeply scarred that the pathologist had noted it was possible she’d become useless as a donor. That could be the reason she’d been killed and thrown out with the garbage, but it still didn’t explain the desiccation.

“Ash and I,” he told Raphael, “are heading to the Quarter clubs after dinner to see if we can pin down the victim’s identity.” While there was no guarantee she’d patronized the clubs, it was a good starting point, given how many vamps first met their long-term donors in the Quarter. “It’ll also give me a chance to connect with those Made who prefer the night hours.”

“Stay in regular contact with Dmitri.” An order. “If Lijuan did leave a taint in our city, I don’t want either of you falling victim to it.”

Ash looked up then, the mysterious dark of her eyes going straight to Janvier. Her laughter faded, but the connection between them . . . it continued to pulse unabated.

“No,” Janvier said. “I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”





18


It took Elena a half hour into the dinner to realize that some of the wine at the table was blood red—as in real blood red, and that the shish kebabs Naasir was snacking on beside her were made up of cubes of seasoned but raw meat.

She could live with that. Feral as he was, there was something both innocent and wildly charming about Naasir. He truly was like a wild tiger; he might bite her hand, but only if she threatened him. At least now that he’d decided not to make a meal of her.

At that instant, he nudged his plate toward Ash, who was seated on his other side. Elena watched, wondering what the other hunter would do. Not blinking, Ash reached out and took a piece of cooked meat Naasir had ignored in favor of the raw cubes. Naasir smiled and continued to eat.

Ash clearly knew the vampire’s ways better than Elena did. Unsurprising, given that the team of three “shadows” had spent days behind enemy lines with only one another for company.

“Give me a clue,” she said when Naasir glanced at her.

“To what?” He bit off a chunk of meat, chewed with relish.

“To what you are,” she said, her curiosity as acute now as it had been the first instant she recognized he wasn’t a normal vampire in any sense. She had trouble thinking of him as a vampire at all; he might drink blood but, as his diet showed, it was hardly enough to sustain him.

Naasir grinned and took a sip of the rich red liquid in his wineglass. “You can ask me seven questions.”

Catching Ash’s grin on his other side, Elena considered how strongly he made her think of a big cat—an amused one right now—and decided to tie him down. “Will you answer?”

“Yes.”

She wasn’t about to fall for that. “Will you answer truthfully?”

Naasir flashed his fangs at her. “I’ll give you at least two truthful answers.”

Elena decided that was better than nothing. “Are you the only one of your kind?” she asked, conscious of not only Ash but others around them listening in.

“Yes.”

She examined his extraordinary eyes, his sly half smile, his body posture—and had absolutely no idea if he was lying or not. Damn it. “Were you born or Made?”

“Both.”

Angling her shoulders to face him as Illium’s shook with laughter across the table, she said, “Are you part of the tiger family?” His scent, it was so wild she could almost taste the jungle, almost see the long grasses where a striped predator might hide.

Naasir leaned in so close his nose brushed hers. “No,” he said with a playful snap of his teeth.

Elena wanted to strangle him. It was impossible to gauge his expression, separate truth from lie, but she wasn’t about to give up. “Are you a vampire?”

He drank deeply of the blood in his glass, the dark ruby of it swirling with secrets. “No.”

“I think I could be driven to bite you,” she muttered. “Hard.”

Naasir growled, but his eyes were laughing. “Enough?”

“No. I have three questions left.” Shooting a death glare at Dmitri when he asked her if she needed assistance, all false solicitousness, she turned her attention back to Naasir. “Do you truly eat people?”

“Only if I dislike them, or if I’m very hungry.” A solemn statement.

Remembering what he’d once told her about the angel who’d Made him—though she was certain he hadn’t been Made in any ordinary way—as well as what he’d said about Lijuan smelling like bad meat, she figured that was a truth.

“Do you have claws?” All vampires could extend their nails, some more than others. It was part of what allowed them to climb so well. But during the battle, when she’d bandaged up Naasir’s wounds, she’d thought she glimpsed a more dangerous ability out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t mean normal vampire claws. Actual claws.”

Putting down his glass, Naasir spread his hand between them. His fingers were long and strong, his skin that lush, rich brown with an undertone of gold . . . and where his nails had been, she suddenly saw wickedly curved claws as might appear on the paws of a tiger. They disappeared a heartbeat later, and she could almost imagine it had been an illusion.