Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter #7)(51)

She heard the protective rage and, below it, a kind of stunned shock. “No one has ever hit me,” she clarified. “Except, of course, during my work as a hunter.” Then, all was fair.

Janvier’s rigid shoulders didn’t relax. “You think I don’t know you well enough to see through that?”

Suddenly, the space between them didn’t exist, the intimacy as blinding as when he’d brushed the crumb off her lip. “I don’t talk about this.” Tried to not even think about it, though seeing Arvi the previous day had stirred the pain of it back up.

No, Ashwini, she told herself, be brutally honest. The reason you can’t find a way to tell Janvier everything is that it’ll break you if he looks at you with pity in his eyes.

The car ate up the road, a sleek piece of the night.

“When I was a boy,” Janvier said into the silence that had grown too heavy, too dark, “I used to work for a man who caught crawfish and supplied them to others. It was a way to earn a little money for my family, help my mother provide for my baby sisters.”

Ashwini turned in her seat, compelled by the intimate vein of memory, affection, and sadness in his tone. “How many sisters did you have?” It startled her to realize she didn’t know this about him when they’d spoken so many times, trusted one another so deeply.

“Two.” A smile that creased his cheeks. “Amelie arrived in time with a thunderclap one rainy day, J?elle a year or so later in the midnight hours, both squalling and red-faced and tiny.” Having reached the fringe of the Vampire Quarter, he drove around to the small lot behind a blood café, after first unlocking the gate by pressing in a code on the keypad at the entrance.

He parked, switched off the engine, then turned toward her, one arm braced on the steering wheel. “My father died in a logging accident when Amelie and J?elle were only two and three, so it was just the four of us until my mother married again seven years later.”

Meaning he’d effectively become the head of his household for those seven years. “How old were you when you began working?”

“The dates weren’t so well kept then—you understand, sugar? But I was old enough. Seven or eight.”

“So young?”

“It was nothing unusual, not then.” A shrug. “The man I worked for, he used to hit me if I didn’t move fast enough; he’d kick me at least once a day. I have never forgotten the feeling of helplessness I experienced as a small boy trapped in a position of no power against a bigger, stronger opponent.”

Blood hot and hands fisted, Ashwini had to remind herself that he hadn’t been that small, helpless boy for a long time.

“You’d think I learned my lesson,” he continued, “but we both know I later made the decision to enter into another situation where I did not hold power, out of what I then thought was love.” He smiled, as if at the foolishness of it. “I was so green, so inexperienced in the ways of the world, and Shamiya was sensual, beautiful—and she told me incredible tales of lands far beyond the bayou.”

A shake of his head. “It was a deadly combination when it came to the restless young man I was then, the hunger for adventure a craving in my soul, especially when she said such sweet words to me. I did not understand that I was in the throes of infatuation, and that she was merely playing.”

Ashwini could see it, see the young male he’d been, hungry to experience life and to prove himself. “Did she help you become a Candidate?” A person couldn’t simply ask to be a vampire; he or she had to be chosen.

“Yes. She took me to Neha’s court, where she was a favorite.” He laughed. “I have never been so sick as I was on that voyage. The waters of the bayou never crashed and rolled as that ocean did, as if attempting to throw an insect off its back.”

The idea of the long journey, the things he must’ve seen, made a thousand questions form on her tongue, but she was even more fascinated by this deeper glimpse into his path to vampirism. “Shamiya must’ve felt something for you to go to all that trouble,” she said, unable to imagine how any woman could be so careless as to throw away the loyalty of a man like Janvier. “Even as a favorite, she still had to petition Neha.” And the Queen of Poisons was an archangel, as ruthless and as deadly as Raphael.

“She felt what a child does with a new toy.” He spoke the words without rancor. “I was different enough in my lack of sophistication that I was new and shiny and amusing for a period. I, on the other hand, believed myself in the grip of a grand passion”—laughing at himself, eyes dancing—“and so like a fool, I gave up gumbo for blood.” There was no recrimination in his gaze, nothing but an affectionate humor directed at the young man he’d once been.

Ashwini had asked him once if he loved Shamiya still. His answer had resonated deeply with her.

A silly question, cher. You know love cannot survive where there is no light.

Tonight, she saw that he’d not only moved on lifetimes ago, he bore no grudge. “Have you ever seen her again?” she asked, curious. “Shamiya, I mean.”

“Oui, many times. She is as feckless and as fickle as she always was, while I am no longer green and impressionable. I outgrew her at the infancy of my Contract.” His eyes locking with hers. “But before I grew into this man I am today, I was that boy at the mercy of a brute, and that unsophisticated young man abandoned in the court of the Queen of Poisons. I am no stranger to being under the control of others.”