Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

“It’s as different as night from day.”

A statement that did nothing to relieve the desire raging within me. I licked my lips and tried to concentrate on eating. However much my hormones might rage, now was not a good time for that sort of action. Christ, I was barely even capable of standing.

You don’t have to stand to make love, my treacherous inner voice whispered.

I studiously ignored it and continued to shovel food in until the lasagna was almost gone and I was sure I could speak with some semblance of normalcy. Not that he’d be fooled—there was that damn chi link, after all.

“Is this mingling what you meant when you said you couldn’t make love to me as a reaper, because I wasn’t ready for it?”

His expression closed up again. “In a sense, yes.”

I sighed in frustration. Getting any sort of information out of him was like squeezing blood from a stone, but it was far worse when it came to questions about his life as a reaper.

Before I could say anything else, my phone rang, the sound sharp in the brief silence. The ringtone told me it was Hunter.

I briefly considered not answering it, but that wasn’t likely to do much. The bitch would just track me down and confront me in person. At least if she was on the other end of the phone, she didn’t have access to my thoughts.

“The reason I didn’t ring with an update,” I said without preamble, “is because there isn’t a whole lot to tell you. The Rakshasa sensed our presence in that room and made a run for it. Azriel wasn’t able to track it back to its lair.”

“That is extremely unfortunate given that the deadline clock is counting down.” Hunter’s voice was cool. “I do not wish to lose a good resource, Risa, so I suggest you do your utmost to catch this thing.”

I snorted softly. If she considered me a good resource, then her other resources obviously sucked big-time. My mother I was not.

“Trust me—I have no intention of getting dead just yet, but we do have a problem. I can’t stand guard in the viewing room tonight. The Rakshasa knows we are waiting for it now, so it’ll be overly cautious. We need to try something else.”

“Such as?”

I hesitated, thinking fast—not an easy task at the moment. “There are cameras installed in the ghosts’ feeding room, so would I be wrong in thinking there are some who get off on watching others feed and kill?”

“Yes.” She paused. “The camera feed goes down to several side rooms in the main bar.”

“What sort of side rooms?”

“The sort you find in werewolf bars,” she said, her voice dry. “The kind that allows participants privacy if they prefer.”

The image of a blood whore–addicted vampire jerking off while he watched another feed and kill made my stomach flip-flop, and I was suddenly glad I’d just about finished the lasagna. “Surely we could snag one of those to use.”

“Only if your reaper remains ready to fight. Marshall cannot remain with you for that long, and it is only his presence by your side that gets you through the bar safely.”

I was betting Azriel had a whole lot more to do with that than she was giving him credit for. Every vampire might see him as something different, but reapers had a natural ability to see and take on whatever form a soul would most accept, so it was natural that they could also see what souls feared. Given the reaction of the nearby vamps, I was betting the latter was what he’d been projecting.

Still, being in such close proximity to that many hungry vamps wasn’t something I was keen on. “There have to be monitors elsewhere, surely. What about the security area?”

“The security area is not situated on-site—and the cameras in the feeding rooms do not transmit to the main system. We do not wish to risk anyone hacking into them.”

I wondered if Stane could, then erased the thought. That would only put him in unnecessary danger, and I refused to do that any more than I already was.

“But surely someone is keeping an eye on what goes on down there. I mean, you haven’t got an endless supply of whores—have you?”

“Of course not.” Hunter’s voice was cool. “That would be absurd—and illegal.”

My heart began to pound a little harder. It may have been absurd and illegal, but my intuition was prickling, suggesting that’s exactly what they had.

An endless supply of blood whores could mean only one thing—they were being created and farmed. They had to be—how else could the vamps guarantee supply? And it would certainly explain the strange lack of memories in the two whores Azriel had tried to read, and their oddly identical eyes.

Fuck, this situation was getting deeper and shittier by the moment. And the worst thing was, I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t even tell anyone. We’d all be dead in an instant if I did.

“Surely Marshall has monitors in his office.”