Guild Hunter 04 - Archangel's Blade

seclusion?” So much so that the vampire had had to feed from the blood junkies. “From that card, it looks like he wants to please, not hurt you.”
    “Yes.” A tight smile. “I hate this, prostituting myself to stay alive.”
    Again, her response made no sense—surely Jiana had enough contacts that she could’ve arranged something more palatable. Oh. “You’re punishing yourself.”
    Jiana gave a shaky smile. “I asked him to stop—they found you so soon afterward, I believed he’d played some part in that. Then the card came . . .” She tugged the edges of her robe closed over her breasts, her words fading as her eyes turned distant. “I guess you always hope. Against all reason.”
     
    Dmitri’s hair shone silky and touchable in the sunlight as they stood on the front steps of Jiana’s gracious home. “Jewel Wan,” she said to him, “might’ve given you Jiana’s name but you knew it couldn’t be her.” He’d treated the other vampire with courtesy since the second they arrived.
    When he said nothing, she clamped her hand on his arm. “How long have you suspected Amos?”
    Dark eyes pinned her to the spot, told her nothing. “What good would it have done you to know who I had in mind?”
    “Stop protecting me! I don’t need it anymore!”
    Dmitri’s expression shifted, the stone becoming a piercing arrow. “When have I ever protected you?”
    “What?”
    I know you will always take care of me.
    She clasped her hands to her temples. “That voice.” So deep inside of her.
    “Honor?” Dmitri’s hand on her lower back, his breath lifting the curling tendrils of hair along her temple as he leaned close. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
    “No, it’s nothing,” she said, because to give any other answer would be to acknowledge the aural hallucation. “Just the . . . echo of a dream.” Seeping over into her waking life. “You should’ve told me.”
    “I’m almost a thousand years old.” His hand moved in slow, circular motions on her back, but his words were as calculatedly harsh as his touch was tender. “You’re so young it’s laughable. You have neither the strength nor the right to question my decisions.”
    With those words, he negated the commitment they’d made to each other. Perhaps he didn’t see it as such, but she couldn’t be with a man who expected to maintain that chasm of distance between them. “Do you know how to find Amos?” she asked, putting aside the hurt she felt, though it was a raw, tender thing. Giving up wasn’t an option. However, she needed time to regroup, to sit down and figure out if Dmitri was ever going to be ready for the kind of relationship she needed.
    The idea that the answer might be no . . . it caused a crushing blackness in her soul.
    “I’ve already checked his normal haunts and bolt-holes.” His gaze lingered on her face, as if he’d read her very thoughts, but thankfully that was one ability he didn’t possess. “He’ll eventually surface. In the meantime, my men will continue to watch this house—he’s always had an unhealthy attachment to his mother.”
    “Yes.” No normal son would think of inviting his mother to join in a sexual game, to attempt to please her with his choice of victims. “What will you do with her?”
    “That’s up to you. You’re the victim.”
    “No, Dmitri, I’m a survivor.”
    “Yes.” No hesitation. “But recompense is still yours.”
    “That woman is going to punish herself for the rest of her very long life. Let her be.”
    “I’ll speak to her.” He turned to walk toward the entrance. “Are you coming?”
    “No, I think I’ll stay here.” But she didn’t. Stepping down to the drive as soon as he disappeared inside, she took a seat on the edge of the fountain. The water fell in a soothing cascade of sound behind her, the breeze a caress over her cheek as she tried to understand the irrational depth of her anguish. She’d always known Dmitri was never going to be human in any sense.
    He isn’t my Dmitri.
    Again that voice, from so very deep inside of her. As if it came from her soul itself. This time, rather than fighting it, she listened.
    Always so strong, so protective. But never hurtful. Not to me. Never.
    Whoever this figment of her imagination was, Honor thought, she truly was living in a fantasy world. Dmitri was no one’s knight in shining armor and if it scraped her to bloody rawness to admit that, then she had only herself to blame. Because Dmitri had never