Archangel's Viper
Page 14

They got into the car in silence. Then Venom drove. Hard and fast and edgy.
He took them through city streets where prostitutes lingered and junkies slept, past high-class establishments that were all about pain and blood, along a respectable row of clubs where suburban moms and dads came to party and pretend they were walking on the wild side. They took in a closed stadium, drove through streets with gracious mansions so ornate and covered with ivy that it was as if they’d been frozen in time.
Those houses screamed immortal money.
Behind them rose skyscrapers that glittered with light. But the tallest building of all was the Tower, a soaring spear of light that pierced the starlit night sky and made her breath catch. Angels flew in and out, their wings silhouetted against the night, their beauty extraordinary. “Have you ever fantasized about plucking off an angel’s feathers?” It was the first time she’d spoken in the past sixty minutes as Venom drove them in and around and through their city.
“Illium’s sometimes, when he gets too maddening,” Venom said lightly. “Do you have anti-angel fantasies?”
“Just anti-Uram.” Even saying his name made the scream build in her throat. “I fantasize about bringing him back to life in a way that means he’s paralyzed, able to feel what I’m doing but unable to stop me.” The latter was very important. Even in her fantasies, Holly knew she was no match for an archangel. “Then I want to sit there and pluck off each and every one of his feathers.” Gray with flecks of amber, those feathers had been far too beautiful for the ugliness they hid. “After which I want to stab and stab and stab at him until he’s nothing but a piece of meat.”
She exhaled loudly. “Go ahead, call me a psycho.”
Venom shrugged. “I have high standards for the psycho call. You barely brush the surface.” A glance out of mirrored sunglasses.
“Take those off!” Moving with that strange speed that lived in her, Holly tore off the sunglasses and threw them behind their seats.
Venom hadn’t jerked the steering wheel despite her unexpected act. “Those are expensive,” he said calmly. “You can’t afford to replace them, kitty.”
“Fuck you.”
“Sorry, the line’s too long for you to get to the top.”
Her fangs dripped, poison filling her mouth.
And it was too much. The kidnapping attempt. Losing what little freedom she’d earned after years of teeth-gritted hard work. Having her genesis shoved into her face. Venom’s provocation. She hissed and dove for his throat, not thinking about the danger of attacking him while he was driving, not thinking at all.
8
Venom slammed out a hand to grip Holly’s jaw, keeping it away from his neck while he controlled the car with his free hand. She clawed at him, but he could take a few scratches. He could take her bite, too, but it’d affect him for a split second that could cause a crash. Gripping her jaw hard, he pulled the car over to the side of the street.
They were in a dark part of town, an area filled with business workers in the day and homeless people at night. None of those people would dare come near the well-known viper green of his car.
So he released Holly and sucked in a breath as her fangs penetrated his skin. Her poison burned for that split second before it was neutralized, but she didn’t let go. Her nails dug into the other side of his neck, her fangs impaling him.
But she wasn’t feeding, wasn’t doing anything but holding him in place.
He lifted his hand, put it on the back of her head and pushed slightly. “Drink,” he ordered in a voice that not many people would dare disobey. “Drink.”
Holly dug her nails in deeper but refused to do as he’d asked. So he squeezed the back of her neck. Hard. “Or would you prefer that I drink from you, kitty?” he said in his coldest, silkiest tone. “I wonder what Uram’s blood—” That did it.
She drank.
And fire raced through his bloodstream. That, he hadn’t expected. Feeding could be erotic, but this was Holly, not a woman he planned to fuck. Gritting his teeth against the unexpected reaction that went straight to his cock, he pulled her off when her body began to go lax. “Enough. You’re gorging now.”
Eyes glowing acid green, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing a droplet of blood across her cheek, and just stared at his neck.
Venom smiled. “Drop the act, Hollyberry. I know you’re back in control.” Angling his body, he gripped her jaw again before she could move. “You’ve also been a very bad girl.”
Baring her teeth, she licked her tongue over her fangs. And his goddamn cock grew even more rigid, though he knew she was trying to get a rise out of him. “You haven’t been drinking your quota of blood.” Holly had been placed on a strict blood regime because she disliked the vampirish side of herself so much that she often “forgot” to feed. “What have you been doing to the bottles of blood that are delivered to you?”
Holly jerked her chin, but he wasn’t about to let go. Reaching out, he used his thumb to wipe away that smear of blood she’d created deliberately as a distraction. With another woman, he might’ve sucked his thumb into his mouth, turned the act sensual. But this wasn’t another woman. “Answer the question or we’ll be here all night.”
Smiling that sweet fake smile, she said, “Why drink bottled blood when I can have it fresh from the vein?”
“You haven’t fed in at least three months.” Most vampires couldn’t go that long—but Holly wasn’t quite a vampire. “And you just went into bloodlust.”
She blinked, frown lines forming on her forehead. “No, I didn’t. That was . . . the other thing.”
Uram’s taint. “Trust me, Holly. I know bloodlust when I see it.” His voice turned cold, like the blood of the vipers who’d been part of his Making. “If I wasn’t here to stop the bloodlust before it took full hold, you could’ve ripped out multiple throats today. And humans don’t come back from the dead.”
Her skin went pale. “I’m going to be sick.”
Releasing her, he reached over and pushed open the passenger door. “Do it outside.”
But though she hung out the side and retched in harsh pulses, nothing came out. Her body had been too parched for the blood to reject it. Finally slumping back in her seat with the passenger door open to the cool night air, Holly said, “I hate the taste of blood.”
“You liked mine just fine.” If he’d let her, she’d have gorged herself into a purring stupor—and fuck, that image of her lushly sated looked too good in his mind.
Her shoulders grew tight. “Like you said, I’d starved myself. I didn’t taste it.”
That might even be true. “Why would you risk going into bloodlust?” he asked in the viper’s tone that was as much a part of him as his eyes. “You want to become your Maker?”
“Fuck you,” she said again, but her hands were fisted and her voice trembled.
Reaching across to pull the passenger door shut, Venom began to drive. He went straight to the Tower garage. Once there, he got out and went around to pull open her door. Uncharacteristically, she’d stayed inside. “Let’s go.”
A grim-eyed look. “Are you going to turn me in to Dmitri?”
“I don’t tattle, kitty.” Holly had always been his to train—but he’d been reassigned to the Refuge because his duties to the Tower came first. He’d only had a single session with Holly per week—and that had been long-distance, making it difficult for him to gauge her development. That was no longer an issue. And it was becoming clear to him that, regardless of their skill and affection for Holly, the people who’d trained her on a day-to-day basis hadn’t understood what it was they were training.
She got out, her heels making click-clack sounds on the floor as they walked to the elevator. He pressed the button for his floor. When Holly went to press the button for the much lower floor where she had a room, he stopped her. “We’re not done yet.”
Her small hand fisted again, her body all but vibrating next to his.
He knew the only reason she wasn’t defying him was that she understood how bad things could’ve gone tonight: Holly was terrified of herself. That had always been part of the problem. She wasn’t like that bouncer at the club. For him, fear would save his life. For Holly, fear could either cripple her—or turn her into a deadly threat who had to be executed.