“Rescue me in fifteen?”
“We’ll see.”
Louis obligingly said something right then, and she turned on Janvier. “I can’t believe you did that!” She shoved at his chest, the warm muscle beneath flexing under her touch. “You cheating piece of vampire slime! I hate you!”
“Bébé.” Janvier spread his arms, voice cajoling. “It was nothing, a taste onl—”
“That’s it!” She inserted an infuriated high-drama scream in lieu of throwing a drink in his face. “We’re done! Go taste someone else, you bastard!”
• • •
Janvier watched Ashwini stride away, her hips moving provocatively beneath the snug fit of her jeans. “Take care of her,” he said quietly to his friend. “She is my eternity, Louis.”
“As you pointed out, she can take care of herself,” the other man replied, “but I’ll keep an eye on her in case she needs backup.” Grabbing Ash’s jacket after Janvier slid his eyes to it, Louis went after her.
Turning to the bar, Janvier found the barkeep giving him a sympathetic look. “Women,” the younger male said with a shrug. “She was seriously hot, though. The dangerous kind of hot.”
Yes, his Ashblade was dangerous.
The dark-haired woman sidling over to him, her body clad in a sparkly green jumpsuit that ended barely south of her ass, was a mewling kitten in comparison.
Pretending not to see her, he nursed his drink. It was a single-malt whiskey, a good one, the flavor rich and textured.
It stood no chance against the intoxicating wildness that was the taste of his hunter.
Her kiss earlier had staggered him, enslaved him. He wasn’t surprised at his body’s response—he’d known for a long time that Ash owned him and always would. He just had to convince her to claim him, brand him. A public kiss? Hell, yes, he’d take that as a first step.
“Hi.”
Taking his time to respond to the soft greeting, he found himself looking into a pair of uptilted brown eyes made up with glittering green and black kohl, her cheekbones sharp under glowing brown skin and her hair a sheet of ebony. “Hi.” He kept his tone deliberately cool, reading her like he would an open book—the kitten, it seemed, wanted to play with a wolf.
Sinking her teeth into her plump lower lip, the gloss she wore a sheen of wet, she slid her hand down his biceps. “I saw your girlfriend leave.”
When he didn’t shake her off, she stepped close enough that her breasts pressed into his body, her fingers curving around his upper arm at the same time. “She didn’t treat you right.”
“She’s passionate.” A woman who loved and fought with her heart and her soul, unrestrained and furiously honest.
“I can be passionate.” A husky invitation. “And I have friends.”
Shifting to face the group toward which she’d nodded, the three others ensconced in an intimate seating area, he found enticing smiles pointed in his direction. “Are your friends accommodating?” He leaned back with his elbows braced on the bar.
“Oh, yes.” The kitten brushed her fingers over the pulse in her neck. “Very.”
Janvier found her attempts at manipulation amusing; she clearly had no idea of exactly how big a wolf she’d approached. “I don’t move on the claimed.”
“We aren’t with anyone.” A hair flip, both hands now holding on to one of his biceps. “We like our freedom.”
Translated, they liked the high of fangs at the vein but didn’t actually want to get into a relationship with a near-immortal. Allowing his lips to curve into a slightly predatory smile that made the woman’s breath catch, her pupils dilate, he straightened and, drink in one hand, walked with her to her friends.
They’d left a spot for him in between Louis’s fantasy twins. He should’ve taken the invitation, but he didn’t. He didn’t want anyone pawing him, male or female. The deception he was playing didn’t alter the truth of his nature—Janvier had given himself to Ash and that was it. Playing hard to get, he sprawled in an armchair across from the twins, the male donor to his right. Green Jumpsuit perched herself on the arm of his seat, silky thighs within effortless reach.
He didn’t reach, didn’t stroke, but his cool attitude seemed to make the foursome even more eager to please. Before long, the entire group was clustered around him, breathless and excited and ready to go with him into one of the private booths in the back. “Unless you want to feed here,” the blonde on the left said in a sultry tone. “That’s okay, too.”
“Only they don’t allow nudity on the main floor,” the other blonde added, her palm on her chest, above the low-cut neckline of a bustier of incongruously innocent white lace. “We’d like to please you in every way.”
The male’s pale white skin filled with a flush of color when Janvier glanced at him. “Are you as compliant and eager?”
An immediate nod. “Anything you want.”
Putting down his glass, Janvier forced himself to place his hand on the thigh displayed to him, though he felt more like telling the group to get the fuck out of this life they were in. It wasn’t the random fang-and-fuck lifestyle that worried him—it was the fact that a strong vampire could incapacitate all four within seconds. Janvier could do it before a scream escaped even one throat. He didn’t think they understood that, believing themselves safe in a group.
It was an ignorance he’d rectify before he left, especially given how many vampires he’d noted in the room whose tendencies echoed Khalil’s. Louis’s meat market was becoming more deadly with each passing minute, the hum of bloodlust below the surface troubling.
“Yes.” Throaty seductiveness from the girl beside him. “We’re ready to be your toys. Shall I ask the bartender for a booth key?”
“I think no one has taught you the value of patience,” he said in a deep purr of a tone that had the blondes squirming and the male erect beneath his tight-fitting pants. “Has no one ever spent hours with you? Taking a sip at a time, drawing out the pleasure until it is part insanity, part pain?”
“No,” the blondes breathed.
“We . . . we could go to a hotel if you want.” Flushing, the green-jumpsuited girl put her hand over his and rubbed her thumb gently across the back of his knuckles.
Janvier battled the violent urge to wrench it back—he didn’t want to be known as available. He wasn’t available, hadn’t been since the day he’d met Ash, and he wanted the entire world to know that. But he was also loyal to the Tower and to Raphael, and this crime threatened the stability of the city. More, he knew his hunter would not rest easy until they gave their victim the dignity of a name.
So he played the game, eased the conversation toward the victim without alerting the four donors of his intent. He made them believe she’d fed him the last time he’d been in this club, that he couldn’t quite remember her name, intimated they’d been too involved in other things to bother with exchanging such mundane information.
It was the male who said, “I think you mean Felicity.” He went to his knees beside Janvier’s armchair, put his hand on Janvier’s own knee. “I was with her when she got her tat a couple of years ago. I got one, too. See?” He pumped up a muscle to show it off.
“It is excellent work.” Janvier examined the blue-green dragon, to the boy’s pleasure. The male didn’t go back to his seat afterward, leaning instead against Janvier’s leg like an affectionate pet.
Some old vamps treated donors as exactly that. Giorgio, Janvier thought, likely enjoyed having his women paying homage at his feet. Unfortunately for this group, Janvier had never been comfortable with such subservience, found no pleasure in the weak—though he felt nothing against them.
People were who they were, some strong, some not.
So he ran his fingers over the boy’s shoulder, careful to avoid the skin displayed by his muscle shirt. He could’ve rejected the boy—and his friends—harshly, but Janvier
didn’t see the point in that; he didn’t kick kittens or puppies, so why would he do the same to these harmless creatures? Though it did concern him how many of the mortals he’d seen in the clubs fell into this personality type.
That might be a fact he’d have to discuss with Dmitri—if the vampires who hooked up with such submissive men and women were caring for them, that was one thing, but if they were abusing them . . . Then again, the Tower didn’t interfere in the affairs of adults unless the rules were broken. And, harmless or not, this group and others like them chose the thrill of the clubs.
As the cattle chose to give freely of their blood.
No one, however, chose to be murdered and thrown away like a piece of trash.
“Felicity?” he said as the male curled his hand around Janvier’s calf, eyes closing. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”
“I guess.” One of the blondes twisted her lips. “But she didn’t really know how to party.”
“Her last name was Johnson!” the other blonde added with a proud smile. “I just remembered.”
“Felicity Johnson. Merci.”
“Oh, but she doesn’t donate anymore,” Green Jumpsuit said at once, jealousy a stabbing dagger in her eyes.
This one and the first blonde, he thought, might eventually develop claws. If they survived.
“Yeah,” the male added, “ever since she hooked up with her rich boyfriend.”
“We haven’t seen her in months.” The thigh under Janvier’s hand flexed, the girl turning toward him. “I kind of didn’t believe her about the rich boyfriend, but then why would she stop clubbing, if it wasn’t the truth?”
“Hmm.” Janvier didn’t betray his reaction to what might be their first solid lead. “Who was this man?” he drawled. “I may know him.”
The four looked blank. It turned out none of them had ever met the boyfriend and Felicity had been secretive about him to the point that they didn’t have any details on him beyond the fact he was a rich vampire. That was disappointing, but Felicity’s name was more than they’d had when he and Ash had walked into this bar.
Appearing to relax into the armchair, he let the conversation drift, wondering if Ash was planning to let him extricate himself. He could, but it’d feel exactly like abusing small, vulnerable creatures who’d handed him their trust. Deciding to take the time to give these four a lesson in safety, he said, “You’re all beautiful.” His words made them beam, try to get even closer. “It’d be a shame if you were damaged. Not every vampire appreciates that some treasures must be handled with care.”
“We never leave with anyone without checking with each other,” one of the blondes said, coming to kneel in front of him, her chin braced on his knee, her hands on his thigh.
“And,” the other blonde added, “Louis gives us a signal if the vamp is one of the bad ones.”
More intelligent than he’d guessed. “Good.” He set aside his tumbler on a side table. “But you need to remember one other thing.”
“What?” all four said at once.
He had his hands around the throats of the blondes so fast the other two froze. “That my kind,” he whispered, releasing their throats with a gentle brush of his thumb over each slender column, “are not human.”
Chest heaving, one of the blondes stared at him, terror in her eyes. “You moved so fast. I didn’t even see it.”
“I could paralyze you in two heartbeats, have all four of you laid out helpless before me.” He was happy to see the blondes swallow and return to their sofa. “I could violate you if I wished, share you with my friends, then throw you naked and helpless into the street, at the mercy of anyone who wanted to use you. Trust me, there are a number of vampires in the room at this instant capable of doing exactly that.”
Trembling, the girl wearing the jumpsuit stared at him, her pulse stuttering in her neck. “No, I don’t believe you.”
“Have you ever fed Khalil?” At their nods, he said, “He once tore open a woman’s rib cage to feed directly from her heart.” The true horror of it was that the woman had been one of his cattle who’d volunteered to pleasure her master in whatever way he pleased. “She was conscious at the time. I hear she screamed and screamed and screamed.”
“Oh, God.” Tears wet the eyes of the blondes, and the girl in the green jumpsuit leaned subtly away.
“So,” he said, “you must be very, very careful. Oui?”
They nodded immediately.
“There is bloodlust in the air,” he continued, able to see Khalil feeding from a willing woman ten feet away, the vampire having shoved his hand down her blouse to viciously squeeze her breast. “Warn your friends that even previously trustworthy vampires may become a risk.”
Dmitri had to be briefed on this; the longer Janvier sat here, the more his instincts told him the blood was boiling beneath the surface. It wasn’t yet at critical, but it would be within days if not handled with brutal decisiveness.
A rustle at his feet. “I’ve never met a vampire like you,” the boy said, his heart in his eyes as he looked up from his position curled up against Janvier’s leg. “If you’re looking for a long-term donor . . .”
Janvier caught a glimpse of Ash stalking back into the bar. “You deserve a lover who will cherish you,” he told the boy, being as gentle as he was capable of being. “I’m afraid I’m rather attached to the hunter about to descend on us.”
The four looked like deer caught in the headlights as Ash zeroed in on them.
“You can’t even last five minutes!” she yelled when she got to him. Her eyes shifted to the girl wearing the jumpsuit, her smile razor sharp. “Would you like me to separate your head from your body, sweetie?”
“N-no?”
“Then I suggest you get yourself away from my man.”
Jumpsuit jumped up and so did the others, while Janvier reveled in the claim. It was drama, but it was nice to hear the words anyway. “Bébé,” he said, deliberately using the term again because it totally did not fit his hunter, would amuse her. “We have just been having a drink together.”
“Yeah,” the male said, looking at Ash in naked awe. “You can sit with us.”
Ash pointed a finger at the boy, then the blondes, then Jumpsuit. “Away. Now.”
The group hauled ass.
“You’re magnificent,” Janvier whispered. “I think my new friends would go home as happily with you as with me.”
“What now?” she murmured when he stood to place his hands on her hips, her arms still belligerently crossed.
“I seduce you into forgiving me.”
23
Janvier was starving for the taste, the feel of Ash, but as he’d told her, for him intimacy wasn’t a spectator sport. So he nuzzled at her, but didn’t speak the hot, erotic words he wanted to whisper. Instead, he began to name all the liqueurs at the bar, using his sexiest voice.
“Stop that,” she said, lips firmly set as she fought valiantly not to laugh.
He wanted her to laugh with him during sex, wanted her to play with him. “Do you think you’ve been seduced enough?”
“Did you discover her name?”
“Felicity Johnson.”
“Then, I’ve been seduced enough.”
The snow had begun to fall in earnest when they hit the street again, but there was no wind, the world a serene sheet of white. Before doing anything else, he made a call—while Ash pretended to check out the well-lit window display of the sex shop next door. His purpose was to touch base with a combat-trained Tower vampire he knew patronized a nearby dance club. Emaya didn’t miss a beat when he asked her to keep an eye on Khalil.
Janvier would’ve preferred to do it himself, but Khalil had already spotted him in the club, would be immediately suspicious if he glimpsed Janvier or Ash again. Khalil also knew Janvier as an individual, whereas he was unlikely to have run into Em
aya—or to notice her if he did. The statuesque Emaya was more akin to Ash than she was to the prettily plump and submissive creatures Khalil preferred.
“Are you alone?” he asked her.
“No. Mateo is with me.”
“Good.” If Khalil was behind the murder, he’d obviously become even more sadistic as the years passed, but Emaya and Mateo had the strength to take him down should he become violent. “Stay together, keep him in your sights without alerting him, and contact me with a full report once he returns to his home.”
If Khalil was the killer, he was too smart to choose a victim who could be easily linked to him, so any woman he took home tonight was safe—from death, at least. Torture remained on the cards, but Khalil had a way of finding willing victims for that, though those volunteers didn’t always know the extent of what awaited. That grim truth at the forefront of his mind, Janvier said, “I want to know who he speaks to, what he does, anything that strikes you as unusual about his behavior.”
“Got it.”
“Even a hint of trouble, call me or the Tower.”
“Will do, but my entire combat team is out blowing off steam tonight, so we have plenty of backup nearby if we need it.”
Relaxing, Janvier waited until the other couple arrived in case Khalil slipped out in the interim. He covered the delay by teasing Ash about her apparent interest in the erotic toys on display. She laughed and, with her phone, snapped photos of the various items, before sending a couple of messages.
Not acknowledging Mateo or Emaya when they arrived, he sent a message through to the Tower alerting Dmitri to the ongoing situation. He also made a note that bloodlust appeared to be rising, but that it didn’t appear critical at this point. It may be a residue of the battle trauma. I think the vampire leaders should be contacted tomorrow so they can tamp things down. The bloodlust wasn’t hazardous yet, but give it a few more days and it could turn into carnage.
Janvier had once come into a town that was meant to be a rest stop for couriers only to find every part of the small settlement sticky with rust red, and the two resident vampires feeding like gluttons on the warm, nude corpse of the woman who’d been the lover to one. He’d executed both on the spot. It was the only way to contain the slaughter.
Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter series Book 7) Page 19