by Sylvia Day
Cupping her face, he kissed her. “No. Not really.”
She let him back away and resumed putting the flowers in a vase. “Make yourself at home.”
“That’s easy to do. Your place is as beautiful as you are.” His voice faded as he moved into the living room.
Kim leaned heavily into the counter, breathing carefully in and out. He was such a force of nature and her hunger for him was outside the scope of her experience. She’d never had relationship issues, never had any problem with commitment or affection or sexual attraction. But this... It was like being hit with a Mack truck every time. “Did you forget to bring a movie?”
“No.” He looked across the open floor plan at her and pulled a DVD case out of where he’d tucked it in the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”
“Umm... sounds fun.” She carried the flower arrangement into the living room and set it on an end table. “Whatcha got?”
“The Unforgiven.”
“Huh? Who’s in it?”
“Clint Eastwood. Morgan Freeman. Gene Hackman.” He handed her the case.
“Oh.” Her mouth curved ruefully.
“What?”
“There’s something else wrong with me: I’m not a fan of westerns.”
His eyes were warm with amusement. “Give it thirty minutes. If you’re not enjoying it, I’ll entertain you another way.”
“I can go for that.” Yum. She licked her lips.
“And yours?” He crossed his arms and looked sexy as hell. “What are you putting on the table?”
“Gabriel. Have you seen it?”
Raze’s mouth opened, hung that way for a moment, then closed again. His lips twitched. “Angels?”
She deflated. “You’ve seen it.”
“Probably not the same story,” he said wryly. “What’s it about?”
“Fallen angels who kick some serious— What’s so funny?”
He tried to wipe the smile off his mouth with his hand. “Do they turn into vampires?”
“Who? The angels? No. It’s not a comedy, you know. It’s dark and gritty.”
“Gotcha.” But he was clearly still very amused.
“Then again...” She thought about it. “That might actually be a cool story. Maybe some werewolves, too? Like Underworld with angels? Could be interesting.”
Laughing, he picked her up and spun her around. His delight spurred her own and she found herself laughing with him.
“You’re crazy, Raze. You know that?”
“About you.” He took her mouth in a breathless kiss.
* * *
Kim ended up liking The Unforgiven, as Raze had known she would. He couldn’t explain how he knew, it was just there. It was as if she had a rhythm to her, a unique tempo that resonated perfectly inside him. And he’d liked Gabriel, as she’d suspected he would.
Synergy, he thought, tightening his arms around her. He lay stretched out on her sofa, barefooted and comfortable. She was sprawled between his legs, her back to his chest, her arms crossed over his. Every breath he took smelled of her, that unique fragrance that was partly a soft floral perfume and mostly her natural essence.
He’d never experienced anything even remotely similar to this casual intimacy. Associations for him had always been necessities—he worked with his teams, he fucked the willing, and he relaxed alone. All of the Fallen had lost their souls when they’d lost their wings, one couldn’t exist without the other. But the rest of the Fallen had loved before they fell and he’d wondered if perhaps the ability to know love was something he could’ve only learned when he’d been whole. Perhaps he had missed his chance.
Clearly, he’d been wrong to think that way. He’d never understood the saying My heart’s not in it. Why did your heart need to be in anything? Do what you need to do. But now he knew. He’d enjoyed his work, sex, and his solitude, but his heart had never been in any of it. Until, perhaps, now.
Raze pressed a kiss to her temple, marveling at how drastically his life and outlook had changed in a mere day. “You know,” he murmured, “now we can say we’ve known each other days, as in plural.”
Her head moved on his chest as her gaze slid from the television to the digital clock on her cable box. “It feels like so much longer than that.”
She sat up despite his protests and shifting, moving to straddle him. He watched her, riveted by her elegant sensuality. She was way, way out of his league, but somehow he was making her happy. She caught the pull of her zipper, one that ran from cleavage to waist on the simple but pretty strappy emerald dress she wore.
“Ready for your surprise?” she asked, with sparkling eyes.
“Hmm... A surprise.” He gripped her thighs beneath the hem and squeezed. “You’re all I need.”
“And I’m what you’ll get.” The dress parted and she drew it over her head.
Jesus. He went hard all over. Her delicate breasts were cupped by mere scraps of green satin framed by black lace. The wisp covering the sweet flesh between her thighs was nothing more than a tease. The whole sparkled with crystals and contrasted beautifully with her creamy skin, dark hair, and peridot eyes. He lost his breath for a moment, along with his brain.
“A surprise,” he murmured. “And a gift. God. Kim. You shred me.”
Her greedy hands slid up beneath his shirt and her mouth sealed over his. She took him. And fisting her hair, he gave.
* * *
They spent Sunday morning being deliciously lazy, rolling around in bed and talking about their work. Raze could say little about the particulars of what he did, but he told her he traveled a lot and worked in teams occasionally. He told her about Vash and Syre, Torque and Salem, smudging details as necessary to get the gist across. It was easier than he would have thought to talk so much. Kim made it easy by listening attentively and refraining from asking questions he couldn’t answer. In return he strove to be as honest as possible under the circumstances. Eventually, he’d tell her everything. After he discussed it with Syre and Vashti.
Kim talked about her job as a medical laboratory scientist and he listened raptly, amazed that of all the people he could’ve found this depth of connection with he’d found one who spent her days looking at blood. She was, in her own way, as drawn to the vital substance as he was. What were the odds?
She was a trust fund baby, which allowed her to do what she loved for a living. Most of her friends were also her co-workers and Janelle had been her best friend since grade school. As he’d expected, Kim had been engaged once, shortly after graduating from college, but she’d broken it off when she realized she wasn’t ready to settle down.
Shortly after ten, she went into the kitchen to grab breakfast and he returned a call from Vashti that he’d missed while indulging in Kim.
“Vash.” He kept the video off and held the phone to his ear. “News?”
“The team of six I sent arrived this morning and they’re already sweeping through what’s left of your list of known Grimm haunts. They have orders to gather what intel they can and pass it along to you. You’re primary, so stay available.”
“Of course.”
She snorted. “You could’ve been hunting last night.”
“Yes. And probably should’ve been. But it’s my time now, Vashti. After all these years, it’s finally my time. I’m not wasting it hunting down a crazy bitch who won’t be found until she’s ready.” He heard the doorbell ring and pulled on his jeans. “I rattled her cage yesterday. She’ll be crawling out soon, because she’ll want to deal with this on her turf and I’ve threatened to leave. I bet she makes a move by tomorrow, and I’ll be out today making myself as easy a target as possible.”
“I’ve emailed the cell numbers of your team. Touch bases with them and—”
Raze killed the call when Kim entered the room with a dozen Black Beauty roses. There was laughter in her eyes and a mischievous smile on her lips.
“I guess this is a hint,” sh
e teased. “I’m glad you approve of my oral skills, since I certainly enjoy—”
Shoving his phone into his jeans’ pocket, he brushed past her on his way to the front door. “Did those just arrive?”
“Yes. Raze, are you—”
“Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone except me.” He was gone in a flash, taking the stairs at the end of the hall, his heart racing with a sick panic. He raced down the single flight of steps to the first floor and skid into the lobby of the apartment complex in his bare feet. The lone elevator car was empty and the doors sat open, but when he turned his head, he saw the logo’d back of the delivery person disappearing out the revolving glass door.
A female. Blond hair tucked up under her ball cap.
Bloodlust hazed his vision. Her ladyship hadn’t expected him to be there when she went after Kim and she was arrogant enough to forego the quick kill. She wanted to play, like she had with the Cubs fan.
He pursued, uncaring of his bare feet and chest. She was climbing into the back of an unmarked van when her driver—Lake—saw him. The vampress hit the gas, sending Francesca tumbling into the interior. Raze dove into the open doorway, tackling the baroness as the van jerked back into the flow of traffic to the blaring of horns and squealing tires.
She fought, her claws raking into his flesh, her fangs bared as she hissed like a wild creature. A gun went off, the bullet whistling by his head. Raze crushed her to his chest and rolled, using her body as a shield against the shooter in the passenger seat. Her ribs cracked in the vise of his grip.
Her scream pierced his ears. As Lake skid around a corner, they nearly fell out of the open van door. Gaining his knees, Raze threw Francesca backwards into the passenger, startling the man into firing. The bullet lodged in her back, her eyes widening with agony. Horrified by what he’d done the man dropped his gun and it slid on the metal floorboard into Raze’s waiting hand. He took out the minion with a shot to the head and grabbed Francesca by the wrist, yanking her into him so he could pierce her throat with his fangs.
As her blood pumped down his throat, he caught everything she knew—every plan she’d made, every minion she’d told about those plans. He learned the identity of the traitor who’d been providing her with Fallen blood and he knew how to find the names of those he needed to hunt. Not so many, but that wasn’t what disturbed him.
He released her before the silver poisoning from the bullet tainted the blood he drank. She slumped to the floor. Lake screamed and hit the brakes, sending him crashing back into the bench seat.
“Take another step,” he warned, straightening, “and I’ll kill you slow instead of fast.”
She paused, sobbing, standing in the apex of the open door and the body of the vehicle.
Raze gestured her back into the van with a jerk of the pistol. When she returned to the driver’s seat, he directed her to drive to Baron’s safe house.
CHAPTER 8
Francesca, Lady Seagrave, eyed the big vampire who prowled around the refuge she and Baron had created together and felt the hatred sizzling in her blood along with the silver that burned like acid. He was lost in the recording he listened to on her wireless headphones, his face a mask that revealed none of his thoughts. But he had to hear what she’d heard through the bugs she’d placed in his hotel room. The tenderness and affection that had developed between him and his mortal lover were evident in every word they spoke to each other, every breathless cry and pleasured moan.
It was going to wound him terribly when he lost her, perhaps even break him considering how long he’d gone without anyone being necessary to him.
The crash of something breakable shattering on the floor sent a jolt through her. There were others in her home; two men Raze had called to assist him. They were presently rifling through her things, watching the videos she’d made of certain memorable kills. They watched and listened with such horror, as if it was a surprise that a vampire should hunt prey. That’s what was fundamentally wrong with those in power of the vampire nation—they acted like animal rights activists who advocated vegetarianism, an impossible stance when ruling those who could be nothing but carnivores.
Mortals were food and sport. It was a joke that vampires should hide their existence and scrape for scraps to eat when there was so much to be had. The Sentinels were powerful, yes, but Syre had never once made an attempt to break out of their rigid boundaries. Who knew what they could accomplish? She and Baron envisioned a world in which vampires ruled as they should. She hadn’t Changed to live like this. What was the point of having so much power if you never wielded it?
Raze yanked the headset off his ears and shot daggers into her with his gaze.
Her mouth curved. “It’s my right to take her from you. Baron gave her to you as surely as if he’d introduced you. You wouldn’t have been in Chicago to meet her if not for us.”
“Were you planning on going through my entire black book?” he shot back. “Taking out every person I’ve fucked?”
“Oh no,” she crooned, nursing her vicious fury like a babe at her breast. “She’s special to you. Not like the others. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been at her place this morning. You would’ve taken what you wanted and left before sunrise. I miscalculated how quickly and deeply you fell for her, but it doesn’t matter. She’ll die, whether or not it’s my hand that kills her. You have so many enemies, Raze. She won’t last a minute in the grand scheme of things.”
Francesca had to give him credit, his face and body language gave nothing away. But she knew the impact of her words. Tossing her head back, she laughed.
“You’re a crazy bitch,” he said grimly. “I’m just wondering if you were always psychotic or if the Change warped your brain.”
“I Changed for him. We Changed for each other, so we’d always be together and you’ve taken him from me. And for what? You’re as much of a Sentinel pet as the lycans. Now you’ll lose something irreplaceable. You’ve finally found what you’ve been missing and it’s about to be ripped from you. I hope you’ll see what’s done to her. I hope you watch while she’s cut and torn and broken. I hope her screams stay in your head—”
There was a split second in which she registered the gun in his hand. And then there was nothing.
* * *
Raze studied the baroness’s slumped head with icy detachment. She remained upright courtesy of the ingeniously heinous chair he’d found in her home—a chair with silver-plated spiked manacles at the wrists and throat, and a bottom and back with blades that protruded or retracted via a handle on the backside.
Turning away, he looked around the warehouse loft and considered what she’d left behind. There was an entire bookcase of recorded atrocities stored in jeweled cases. It was a collection that could never fall into a Sentinel or lycan’s hands, or questions would be raised that had no good answers. Some of what he’d seen would haunt him for years to come, minions who’d succumbed so completely to bloodlust that they were little more than ravening beasts. Raze wasn’t certain there was anything—even the Creator’s command that the Fallen live endlessly with their vampiric curse—that could prevent a war if Adrian believed vampires were a threat requiring complete eradication.
After all, Adrian had broken other commandments without punishment.
“This place is a house of horrors,” Crash muttered behind him, tossing the disks into a crate to be destroyed. “And they were proud of it. They could’ve kept all this shit in a cloud or on a hard drive, but they wanted the visual of how many kills they had under their belt.”
Raze’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. “Raze.”
“How extensive is the infestation in Chicago?” Adrian asked without preamble.
His back stiffened. “I’m taking care of it.”
“If you think that’s going to be enough to put me off, you haven’t learned anything about me in the last several eons.” The smoothly modulated tone of the Sentinel’s voice only made his words more disturb
ing. “Discovering a few hundred armed minions in a heavily populated metropolis is a big fucking problem. Tell Syre if he can’t get a handle on his ranks, I’ll take the necessary steps to manage it myself.”
“Why don’t—”
“You and the six minions who arrived today have forty-eight hours to wrap it up and clear out.”
The line died, leaving Raze cursing at an angel who couldn’t hear him.
There were times when he thought there was no way to clean up the mess the Fallen had made, times when he thought even damage control was out of their reach. There were tens of thousands of vampires policed by less than four hundred combined Fallen and Sentinels plus a few thousand lycans. The odds were against them in every way.
He’d felt helpless before, but now he had something he couldn’t bear to lose. He would hunt down the ones whose names he found here in Baron’s safe house, but that wouldn’t make Kim any safer. As long as they were connected in any way, she would be a target.
* * *
Back in his hotel room, Raze looked into the video feed of Vash’s office on his brand-new iPad and caught her up. “I got the list of Baron’s followers off his laptop and most of the team is out hunting them now. They had me tailed from the moment I arrived at the airport. While I was killing Baron at the ballpark, the baroness was here in my room planting bugs.”
“So now we know why she wasn’t there that night.”
“Right. That’s what I couldn’t get: why the hell did they draw my attention? If they hadn’t dumped that body on my porch, we wouldn’t be on to them now. Reviving Grimm’s doctrine was a ruse. They used it to round up enough minions to put on that show at Wrigley Field, but their real agenda was to get those bugs on me for future intel gathering. We found them in every room of my suite and on my iPad. They planted tracking devices on my bags. They knew every move I made and would have continued to know, if she hadn’t fucked up and gone after Kim this morning. The baroness hadn’t planned on my being there.”