Archangel's Blade (Guild Hunter 4)

“First Elena and then you.” A blown-out breath. “I want to show you something.” Not waiting for an answer, he went to another computer and cued up a video clip on the large wall screen in front of the consoles. “Watch.”

20

She watched, because Vivek, mood or not, would never waste her time, not when he knew how important this was to her. The clip turned out to be a traffic report from one of the local television stations—and then suddenly, the bubbly blonde reporter was yelling at her cameraman to zoom in.

When he did, the first thing Honor saw was the brilliant near-white hair of the woman racing through the streets, her legs long, her grace extraordinary. An instant later, the reason for her urgency came into focus: a sensually beautiful masculine form giving chase, as fast and ruthless as a panther, his shirt splattered with the viscous red of blood.

Honor had been out of the country at the time of the infamous chase across Manhattan, and while she’d read about it, she’d never seen the actual footage. As she watched, Elena pulled out a gun, turned as if to shoot Dmitri—just as a sleek black motorcycle screeched to a stop at the corner, only a couple of feet away.

Jumping on, the hunter held on tight to the driver as the motorcycle powered away from danger. Dmitri, meanwhile, his chest barely moving in spite of the intensity of the chase, stood at the curb . . . and blew Elena a kiss.

“That,” Vivek said with solemn concern, “is the man you’ve got the hots for. Ellie said she slit his throat and he liked it.”

Goose bumps over her skin, a chill sweat breaking out along her spine. “Sometimes,” she said, thinking of the violence she’d witnessed in Dmitri, the casual cruelty, “logic doesn’t work.”

Vivek parted his lips, then seemed to think better of what he’d been about to say. “Just, be careful. And if you ever need to disappear, all you have to do is ask.” He headed to one of the computers before she could respond. “I’m copying the data over here, too. I’ll run search algorithms through the whole file using key words while you go through the e-mails.”

It was twenty minutes later that Honor saw it. An e-mail string hidden amongst all the other business ones, the subject header an innocuous project name. The only reason she’d even scanned it was because it appeared at the beginning of her period of captivity.

The first message said: Did you get an invitation?

The response was as simple: I’ll call you.

Two days later: I haven’t felt this alive in over a century.

The response: I’d forgotten what it was to hunt down my prey.

Except the cowards had done no hunting. They’d simply taken advantage of a trapped woman laid out for their ugly pleasure. Pulse pounding in her temples, she checked the e-mail address of Tommy’s friend. It didn’t surprise her in the least when it proved to identify the writer. “They never even considered anyone would come looking.” After all, Honor hadn’t been meant to leave that pit. Ever.

“Leon and his friends aren’t as sophisticated as my guests.” A lingering kiss that made her empty stomach revolt. “It’ll be interesting to see what remains after they’ve gorged themselves. But first . . .”

Icy jets of water hitting her, creating bruises upon bruises. The pungent scent of bleach in the room, the spray shifting to the concrete for long minutes. Her mouth being wrenched open.

“Now, let’s clean you up. I wouldn’t want your body to betray me when they find it in the trash.”

It only took Vivek a couple of minutes to match a physical address and bio with the e-mail she’d found. “Jewel Wan,” he said, bringing up a picture of a woman of Chinese ethnicity, the centuries of vampirism having worn away all traces of humanity to leave her a stunning sculpture carved in ice, her eyes gleaming black diamonds that matched the ones she wore around her neck.

“She’s a society fixture,” Vivek continued. “Spends a significant amount of time with humans.”

Glossy, straight hair stroking over her skin as small feminine hands caressed her ribs. “So much muscle even now.” A sweet kind of a voice, intrinsically feminine. “The boys are so rough, aren’t they?” Touching her with a delicacy that sought to lull. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

But it had.

Honor hadn’t known it was possible to fight the pleasure in a vampire’s bite before her abduction, but she’d learned to do it in that torture chamber after the first three times the architect of her capture sent her into an orgasm that had her throwing up afterward, the rape no less painful for having being done through her blood.

Jewel Wan hadn’t been pleased at her defiance.

Laughter, soft and vicious. “I will enjoy breaking you. When I’m done, you’ll call me mistress and beg for my touch.”

A cold, cold thing sliding through her veins, engulfing her chest. “Give me her address.”

Vivek twisted his chair around. “She’s four hundred and fifty years old, Honor.” Unhidden alarm in his voice. “Not powerful for that age, but more than powerful enough to snap your bones regardless of her size.”

Cutting pressure against her side, nails pushing in until they pierced the flesh. Fingers curling around her rib. “Now”—a malicious whisper—“who is your mistress?”

Her rib twinged where Jewel Wan had fractured it. The hole in her side had healed, the scar so tiny she didn’t even notice it usually, but today it pulsed a rigid lump. “I’ll look it up myself.” It wouldn’t be difficult, considering the vampire’s social status.

“No, wait. Here.” Vivek brought up the address. “Please don’t be stupid.”

Her mind was screaming at her to stop, to think, but overwhelming that was the sensory memory of those sharp-nailed hands, that hair of liquid silk. Touching her. Hurting her. Bile rose in her throat but she forced it down, memorized the address, and left. Vivek called out after her, but she wasn’t listening, the roar inside her a violent thunder.

Jewel Wan lived on an estate in the Hudson Valley, which meant Honor would need a car. However, when she went upstairs to requisition one, she was told a freeze had just been placed on her ability to access Guild resources.

Vivek.

Not bothering to argue, she strode out into the heavy but flowing traffic before rush hour. It took only seconds to hail a cab, direct it to the nearest car rental place. She swiped her credit card, filled in the paperwork with impatient hands, and fifteen minutes later she was on her way out of the city in a small, maneuverable SUV.