Guild Hunter 04 - Archangel's Blade

purpose to gauge her level of control.
    Sorrow leaned closer, lowered her voice. “Does he have to watch?”
    “If you tell him to leave, he’ll take even more pleasure in staying.” As it was, Venom was answering a call on his cell phone, his body in a languid position she had no doubt could change in the blink of an eye. One of these days, Honor would spar with the vampire—after first taking Dmitri on in a session.
    Her thighs clenched at the idea of tangling with her sexy, dangerous lover in that arena, their bodies sweaty and straining. “Just ignore him,” she said, wrenching her mind back to the present.
    Sorrow took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said on the exhale. “Show me.”
    It was twenty minutes into a relatively undemand session that the young woman swayed and collapsed.
    Venom was beside her with such speed that Honor’s breath caught in her throat. Jerking the semiconscious woman into a half-sitting position, he shoved back the left cuff of his shirt, having removed his jacket earlier, and said, “Feed,” in a voice that was a whip.
    Sorrow tried to shove him away but she was frighteningly weak, to Honor’s worried gaze. “Fuck you.” Her voice slurred on the curse.
    “Stand in line, kitty.” He shoved his wrist to her mouth. “Feed or I will pin you down and pour my blood down your throat. After which I will take you to the Tower so you can be placed under twenty-four-hour supervision as a spoiled brat should be.”
    Sorrow bit down on his wrist. Hard, judging from the vicious glint in eyes ringed by glowing green—though Venom showed no reaction. Realizing the young woman had allowed her power reserves to run low to the point of endangering herself, Honor said nothing until Sorrow shoved at Venom’s arm again. This time he allowed her to break the blood kiss.
    Wiping the back of her hand over her mouth, Sorrow said, “I suppose you’re going to tattle.”
    Venom used a handkerchief to clean off the neat puncture marks on his wrist before redoing his cuff. “You want this to be our secret?” It was a steel-edged question, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses an instant later. “Too bad you’ve got nothing that would interest me when it comes to bartering.”
    Honor would’ve ignored the taunt, having caught on to Venom’s games. But Sorrow gave a sharp scream and jumped on the vampire. Laughing, he plucked her off and rose to his feet with a fluidity that was as reptilian as his eyes. “Careful,” he said, brushing off his shirt as the young woman pushed herself upright, “or you might hurt my feelings.”
    Sorrow went very, very quiet. Then she moved.
    Sucking in a breath, Honor ran to grab her gun out of her practice bag, but she didn’t know which one of them to aim for once she had it in hand—or even if she’d hit the intended target. It was like watching two feral cats in the most deadly of dances. They moved so fast the eye couldn’t quite track them, their strikes and counterstrikes flowing from one to the other with a grace that was breathtaking.
    But while Sorrow fought with instinct born of primal rage, Venom was a cold, quiet predator who was playing with his prey.
    Honor’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t lift the gun.
    Games or not, the vampire wasn’t hurting Sorrow. Not only that, he was allowing her to express the terrible fury inside her, an anger that had its roots in something far more sadistic than Venom’s barbs. The young woman kicked, tried to claw and punch, even went airborne a couple of times, but she made no impact on the vampire, who simply wasn’t there , his reaction time not human in any way, shape, or form.
    It was beautiful. In a terrifying sort of way. “Can you move that fast?” she asked the man who’d come to stand beside her with a dark grace as old as Venom’s power was young.
    Dmitri slid his hands into the pockets of his stone-gray suit pants, his white shirt open at the collar to expose skin she wanted to lick and suck and bite. “Venom has a particular way of moving,” he murmured in a voice that was pure sex, though he kept his attention on the fight. “Comes from the same place as his eyes.”
    It was difficult to breathe with him so close, and in a mood that wrapped her in warm honey and champagne and promises of sin dipped in chocolate. “Stop spreading sex pheromones around.”
    A faint smile that promised all sorts of debauched, decadent deeds. “I think we should spar, Honor. Winner gets to do