Archangel's Blade (Guild Hunter 4)

Honor jerked back to the present with a cry of horror locked in her throat. Pushing past Jason’s wing, the feel of his feathers liquid silk, she ran through the corridors until she stumbled out into unexpected sunshine, the rain having passed with whispering swiftness. The golden early morning light poured over her, a luminous counterpoint to the terrible sorrow within.

That ugly thought inside the house, that slice of words and sound, hadn’t felt like a dream but a memory. Her memory, though she’d never been in such a horrific situation. Her heart ached with such pain she couldn’t bear it, the infant girl’s frightened screams tearing her soul to pieces.

“Honor.”

It took conscious effort to close off the ripping chasm of a memory that reverberated inside her mind and turn to speak to Jason. “There’s nothing to find here.” Instead of the joy she’d expected to feel at this instant, when the hunt for her abusers was reaching its final stage, there was a hollowness inside her, a sense of loss that erased such petty things as vengeance. “I’m heading to the Guild.”

Jason flared out his wings, the midnight shade so absolute, it absorbed the sunlight. “There is a car waiting for you by the gate.”

“Dmitri,” she murmured, knowing he had to have arranged it.

Jason gave her a penetrating look. “He’s a vampire of old. It is instinct for him to treat his woman with such care.” He was gone in a wash of wind moments later, flying hard and fast up above the cloud layer, until she could no longer see even a glimmer of black.

But he’d left her with a crucial piece of knowledge when it came to dealing with Dmitri in a relationship.

His woman.

She had no doubt that that had been a deliberate word choice on Jason’s part, another hint as to how Dmitri’s brain worked. As she walked to the gate, she considered the issue with care—because Dmitri was the most important part of her life and she wasn’t about to lie to herself about that.

She could reject the car he’d organized and call up a cab, making it clear that she wasn’t about to allow him to treat her like a butterfly in a jar. Or she could accept the ride and the fact that her lover was a thousand-year-old vampire, give or take a few years, who came from a time in which his act would’ve raised no eyebrows.

To be utterly honest, it was nice to feel wanted, to feel cared for after a lifetime spent taking care of herself. While she couldn’t define the relationship between her and Dmitri, she knew he would protect her with brutal ferocity until it was over.

Reaching the car, she slid in. Not only was having a chauffeur in New York nothing to sniff at, but acquiescing to it didn’t do her any harm, while it allowed Dmitri to do what he needed to do: take care of her.

A smile bloomed over her face, a silly kind of happiness infusing her blood. She didn’t fight it, even as she thought that her capitulation when it came to the car would give her an excellent negotiation tool when a bigger battle loomed.

Strategy, that was the key to dealing with a man as intelligent and as harshly practical as Dmitri.

My Dmitri.

Dmitri glanced at Raphael as they stood along the cliff behind Raphael’s home, above the relatively calm waters of the Hudson and across from a Manhattan that had become a shining mirage in the morning sunlight. “Was I wrong?” he asked, knowing Raphael had already spoken to Jiana.

He wanted to be wrong, the need coming from the part of him that believed a mother should always care for her child, the part that knew Ingrede had spent her last breaths trying to save Misha and Caterina.

“Your wife fought to protect your daughter, Dmitri. Such a tiny rag doll of a thing.”

Raphael’s voice overrode the memory of Isis’s cruel whisper, the raw echo of his broken cries. “No, you weren’t wrong. Jason’s information has also been confirmed.”

“And Jiana?”

“I will take care of her.” Absolute cold in those words, a reminder that the Archangel of New York had no mercy in him for those who committed such crimes—and that though his consort had awakened a vein of humanity in him, he remained a being of terrible power.

“Jiana was correct—that should be my task.” It was a punishment he would have no compunction in delivering personally. Because Amos was what Jiana had made him. And Amos had hurt Honor so badly that Dmitri couldn’t think of it without a blood haze across his vision. Honor would never know, he said to Raphael. If I broke Jiana.

The archangel took his time replying. Are you sure you do not want your hunter to know you?

No one, not even Raphael, had truly known Dmitri since Ingrede’s death—he’d put away the heart of him the day he’d snapped his son’s neck; he’d believed it dead. The fact that it wasn’t . . . he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Only one thing was certain—he’d never give Honor up.

“If something ever happens to me, how long will you wait before you marry again?” A laughing question as his wife leaned on his bare chest. “Try and be decent and wait at least a season.”

He knew she was teasing him, but he couldn’t laugh, not about this. Thrusting his hand into hair he’d already tangled when he loved her, he tugged her down for a kiss that left her mouth kiss-bruised, her eyes wide.

“Dmitri.” Fingers touching his lips, her voice a whisper.

“Never,” he answered. “I will never again marry.”

Her hand on his cheek, soft skin scraping over his morning stubble. “You mustn’t say such a thing.”

Closing his fingers over her wrist, he brought her palm to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the warmth of her. “Are you planning on leaving me, Ingrede?” She owned him body and soul; she was his reason for being.

“Never.” A nuzzle, nose to nose, that was such a silly thing she did, one that made him smile each and every time. “But I wouldn’t have you be lonely should we be parted. I couldn’t bear you so sad.” Before he could speak, she added, “But you can’t marry that Tatiana. I don’t like the way she looks at you.”

He laughed, kissed her again. “Wicked woman.” But when the laughter faded, he spoke the indelible truth. “I won’t take any other woman into my heart.” He pressed a finger to her lips when distress colored her eyes. “I’ll wait for you to find me again. So don’t take too long.”

Now, he was close to breaking his promise. “Am I betraying her?”

“I think,” Raphael said, his wings shimmering gold in the sun, “your Ingrede was a woman of generous heart.”