Archangel's Shadows (19 page)

J
anvier was the one who trembled this time, his arm firming to hold her tight. “Why that vampire?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“He’s done horrible things.” The hairs stood up on her arms at the memory. “I can’t tell if it’s in the present or an echo of his past, but we need to check him out.”

“His name is Khalil, and I know he has darker appetites.” A hard edge to his tone. “I’ll put a discreet watch on him. For now, he appears occupied with a blonde barely into her womanhood, so we may go and speak to Louis.”

The two of them closed the distance to the bouncer.

“Sorry for the wait.” Janvier’s insouciant smile invited the other man to laugh and he did.

“Some things take priority. Especially when the priority is so very beautiful.”

“I like you, Louis.” Ashwini tried to keep her tone playful, despite the fact that she felt scraped raw on the inside.

“If you ever decide against this no-good swamp rat, you know where you can find me.” Louis slid his eyes a whisper to the right. “Brown sugar in the sequined green mini-jumpsuit thing, blonde fantasy twins, and the built guy shaved to within an inch of his life. Regular donors here. Tight foursome. High chance they would’ve crossed paths with your girl.”

Ashwini covertly checked out the group, caught them giving Janvier a greedy appraisal. Unsurprising. He might not be dressed in leather or lace or velvet, nor have the honed beauty of the oldest vampires, but Janvier was six feet three inches of pure indulgent sex. He wasn’t even trying to project that at this instant—his sexual attractiveness was innate, created by his confidence, the lithe strength of his body, the lazy smile that said he knew every sin and had invented a few new ones.

“Janvier,” she said, stepping away from him, the loss of contact bruising, “we’re about to have a fight. I’ll be storming off with Louis.”

A raised eyebrow. “Will it be a passionate fight?”

“I could slap you, but I think I’ll settle for calling you a cheating bastard after Louis lets slip the news of your philandering ways.”

Sighing, Janvier said, “All four?”

“They think you’re delicious.” She tried not to find his less than enthusiastic expression adorable and failed. “I’m the impediment.”

“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!”

•   •   •

J
anvier 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.”