Guild Hunter 04 - Archangel's Blade

trusted to maintain order had been playing some very nasty games. Honor didn’t much care about his motivations if it got her to within killing distance of one of the creatures who had turned her into their own personal “blood pet” for two interminable months.
     
     
    They pulled up to the gates of an estate in Englewood Cliffs just as dawn was streaking the sky in watercolors of peach, pink, and golden blue. Dmitri had stored her laptop in the trunk of his Ferrari and put down the top. She found a welcome freedom in the crisp whip of the wind, using the time to gather her defenses, to ready herself for the thick, nauseating scent of Blood Ruby.
    The gates, tall and ornate and covered with dark green ivy, swung open with stately grace the instant the guard saw the car. The drive was dappled in sun and shadow from the oak trees that lined it, and the house, when it came into view, spoke of another century—a heavy and ostentatious one. “Not a vampire who believes in moving with the times.”
    “No.” Dmitri brought the car to a halt in front of the shallow steps that led up to the entrance. “In certain periods, it was the done thing to keep your ‘cattle’ within easy reach. Valeria continues to hold to that practice, though it’s come to be considered an archaic one by most of her contemporaries.”
    Valeria.
    Her hands wanted to grab the huge hunting knife in the sheath at her ankle and rush through the door, gut the vampire, but she forced herself to wait though her pulse beat only a single word—vengeance. “Did the cattle volunteer?”
    “There are always those who volunteer.” He pushed open his door and stood to strip off his coat, revealing the soft black cotton of his T-shirt.
    She thought of Carmen, how the blonde had debased herself before Dmitri, until Honor had been humiliated for her. “You’ve never had any trouble.”
    Dmitri didn’t answer until they met in front of the car. “There are different kinds of trouble.”
    She saw something unexpected in him at that moment, a quiet, dark thing as raw and painful as that which lived within her. “Dmitri,” she began, just as the door of the house opened to reveal a maid in a crisp black and white uniform.
    “It’s time.”
    Her entire body going hot then cold at his words, she walked up the three wide steps with him. The maid stepped aside as they neared. “The mistress is in the morning room, sir.”
    Honor had no idea what a morning room was, but Dmitri gave a clipped nod. “We won’t need you. Take the day of. The Tower will contact you tomorrow.”
    The maid paled, but said only, “Yes, sir. The cook is also here.”
    “Tell her she doesn’t need to be. Valeria’s cattle?”
    “In the guesthouse.”
    “Get them out. You have five minutes.”
    “Yes, sir.” Bobbing her head, the maid bolted down the hall.
    That was when Honor realized she’d caught a glimpse of fang. “She was a vampire.” Yet Honor felt no fear; the other woman was obviously so much weaker than her, regardless of her vampirism.
    “Young,” Dmitri answered, shutting the door with a quiet snick. “Serving out her Contract. I’d say first decade.”
    “No wonder she seemed so human.”
    “Some of the weak ones never lose that core of humanity.” With that, Dmitri led her down the corridor—it was lined with carpet of deep burgundy, the walls covered with the most exquisite cream paper embossed with a subtle motif. Near-immortality did give the Made longer to gain wealth, but Honor had known vamps hundreds of years old who’d never reached this level of affluence. So either Valeria had begun with wealth or she’d created it through a combination of power, will, and ruthless determination.
    Dmitri entered a doorway to the right, a shadow in black.
    “Dmitri, darling,” came a smoky voice that made Honor’s body fill with cold terror. Then she caught the dark, musky scent of Blood Ruby. Freezing with her back to the wall beside the doorway, she tried to get the tremors to stop, to control the nausea that threatened to bring up the tea that was all she’d had for breakfast.
    “Valeria,” Dmitri drawled, even as he twined tendrils of exquisite chocolate and rich liqueur around Honor’s senses. The potency of it overwhelmed the musk of Valeria’s signature perfume, allowed Honor to draw in a breath.
    Dmitri spoke again before the woman in the room could respond. “Did I get you out of bed?”
    A low, intimate laugh. “That’s one