“If that’s what it takes.” His words were pitiless. “But I have a feeling that once you have total control of your abilities and over your urges, you’ll take the choice out of my hands.”
The acid green continued to pulse in her vision. “Are you immune to my poison?” she asked, so angry it was a hum in her blood.
“No, but it won’t kill me. I’m also fast enough to snap your neck before your fangs ever get close.”
Holly blinked. The green faded.
Suddenly, her body wanted to sag. She was so tired of this. Of fighting a world that viewed her as an unknown threat. Of fighting the cancer inside her that wouldn’t let her be normal. Of fighting to stay alive, stay sane. “Venom and I think they might’ve wanted my blood,” she said, forcing her tired brain to think. “Or maybe just to collect me.”
“Possible. It’s also possible they want to re-create the effect that Made you.” Cupping her face in his hands, Dmitri spoke in a voice midnight with age. “Hate me if you want, Holly, but remember this: you’re one of the Tower’s now. You’re one of mine now. That might mean chains, but it also means you have hundreds of vampires and angels at your back.”
Emotion was a hot burn at the back of her eyelids. “All for a weird Chinese girl who had the bad luck to survive a massacre?”
A deep smile that reached the hard intensity of his eyes. “Let’s go, my little weirdling. I’m Ash and Janvier’s teacher for the next hour. You can watch.”
Her sudden tiredness faded. Dmitri was lethal in combat, and neither of her two bosses was exactly a slouch. However, as she watched the session that hour, she realized she’d never before seen Dmitri at full speed. “That’s insane,” she muttered to herself where she sat at the very top of the bleachers that ringed the internal sparring area.
“Even many older immortals have trouble tracking him with the eye.”
“Drat. I was hoping if I ignored the crawling sensation up my arms, you’d poof back to the hole you slithered out of.”
Venom sat down on the top bleacher beside her, the freshness of his just-showered scent washing over her. He’d changed into black pants and a long-sleeved black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. For him that was casual attire. “Kitty’s in a bad mood. Missing me again?”
Her skin felt his heat across the bare inches between them, absorbed it. “Like I miss the giant blister I had on my foot in tenth grade.” Again, she didn’t manage to spot what Dmitri had done that left Janvier groaning on the floor.
The chestnut-haired vampire called out something in Cajun French that made his wife laugh and Dmitri grin. Then he accepted Dmitri’s help to haul him upright and swapped positions with Ashwini. Oddly, the hunter proved to be better at sparring with Dmitri than her older and more experienced husband. Ash was a vampire, too, but she hadn’t even crossed the three-year mark since being Made.
“She’s predicting his moves,” Holly whispered, leaning forward, her eyes wide. “I didn’t know she could do that.” Ashwini had precognitive abilities; anyone who was around her long enough figured that out. But this . . .
“No,” Venom murmured, “neither did I—it looks like she’s glimpsing his move half a second before he makes it. In combat, that can change everything.”
For the next ten minutes, they sat in complete harmony, watching Ashwini and Dmitri dance like demons. It was incredible how long-legged and lithe Ash was keeping up with a vampire who was over a thousand years old and who’d spent nearly all of that time as a warrior in one way or another. The hunter compensated for not being as fast or as strong by making idiosyncratic moves that had Dmitri grinning.
Her large hoop earrings swung with each move, light sparking off the gold.
Dmitri still got her pinned, but he was sweating by then. And when he hauled her back up, he said, “You just volunteered to be my sparring partner while Raphael is away.”
Sauntering over to lean one bent arm on her husband’s shoulder, Janvier’s glowing pride unhidden, Ashwini said, “I’ll think about it.”
Holly felt her eyes widen even further.
“Still in awe of Dmitri, I see.”
“I don’t see you arguing with him.” She turned to face the vampire whose presence was a prickling across her senses. “Venom,” she said, mimicking how Dmitri had said his name in the office. “And off you ran like a good little vampire.”
“Oh, how you have wounded me, kitty.” Cool amusement in every word.
Probably because, unlike her, he was totally confident of his place in the Tower and in his skin. He wasn’t some weird hybrid creation no one knew quite what to do with.
“To be wounded,” she said, “you’d have to have a semblance of humanity.” She shook her head, her face pitying. “Too bad you sold your soul to the devil centuries ago.”
A nictitating moment, his expression icing over in a way that had her going motionless. Holly wasn’t afraid—she had a predator inside her, too, and it was poised to strike. But then Venom smiled and it was the charming smile he kept for women he was trying to get into bed. Not that he had to try very hard: viper eyes or not, once he focused his attention and languorous charm on a woman, she tended to melt.
Holly felt like kicking those women’s backsides and telling them to have a little respect for themselves, and to stop giving him further encouragement to be an asshole who thought he was God’s gift to women. “Not even if the Hudson freezes over and turns into a candy-colored snow cone.”
“Alas, kitty,” Venom said from his lounging position, “you’re too bite-sized for me. But I thought you might be starved for male attention, being that your prickles scare them away.”
“Oh, you’re so kind, so generous.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest and beamed before dropping the act with a roll of her eyes that made him throw back his head and laugh.
It erased the lingering edges of ice, and of that charm she saw as a mask.
Refusing to let the warm sound wrap around her—or to consider how handsome he was with smile lines cutting into his cheeks—she returned her attention to the sparring circle. Dmitri was leading Ash and Janvier through a series of moves that appeared easy enough—except that both were sweating. “What am I not seeing?”
“It’s the muscle tension,” Venom said with deceptive laziness. “It’s the lack of speed that’s the killer. Try to do this.” He showed her a single arm move. “And hold.”
Holly copied him because, his aggravating tendencies aside, Venom was highly trained. At first, it was fine. And then . . . Teeth gritted, she rode past the pain, past the haze of red that started to flicker in her brain.