Archangel's Viper by Nalini Singh
"Yes, that would suck after we successfully pulled off the stealth infiltration of an archangelic home." Tugging the hood of her jacket on over her hair, Holly zipped up the jacket so that her face was neatly framed, her body a sleek black outline. "Let's do it."
They began to run, the wolf running alongside them for over an hour before it peeled off to return to its territory. Venom had kept the pace at one Holly could also maintain. She was doing better than he'd expected. Even at full strength, she wouldn't be as fast as him--but she'd be fast enough to make it fun.
Flying over a log in their path, she turned to grin at him over her shoulder.
He grinned back, and they ran.
Wings flew overhead now and then, and when they did, the two of them crouched low, became motionless. The farther they got from the stronghold, the less Holly's chest glowed--Venom knew because she'd unzip and check every so often, until, by the time they ran into a small mountain village, there was no wash of acid green pulsing off her body.
Dawn hovered a red line on the horizon, but it was just far enough off that the farmers who ran goats up in these mountains weren't yet awake. Venom and Holly moved like shadows through the village, not stopping when dogs barked.
They were long gone and back in the forests before anyone so much as twitched a curtain in response to the canine alarm. If anyone had seen them, all they would've spotted were two dark silhouettes. Venom had pulled the knit cap back over his hair and made sure to keep his eyes open only a sliver so no one could identify him.
Sunglasses pre-dawn would've been a dead giveaway.
Safe in the trees some distance from the village, they stopped so Venom could drink the second bottle of blood, after which Holly would feed from him to continue her recovery. Before that, he gave her the prepackaged food she'd brought along: he never forgot that Holly wasn't a vampire in the known sense, needed actual food, too. As she munched on a packet of cheese and crackers, he opened the bottle of blood and--forewarned by the last bottle--took a cautious sip.
Pretzels and coffee and roasting nuts.
He laughed. "Ashwini gave me New York this time." Another home of his heart. He drank it down without hesitation, then kissed Holly again so she could taste it. And so he could taste her.
She licked her tongue playfully against his. "Shall we indulge in wildly-inappropriate-on-the-run sex?"
He sank his fangs into her lower lip, just enough for it to be a sting.
"Ouch." She did the same back to him and when they drew apart, they were both panting.
"A bed," Venom said silkily. "I want a bed and time." The luxury to stroke her softly, slowly, drink her in.
Holly's breath caught. "Then let's move it."
"Feed first." But he didn't give her his wrist.
Instead, he did something he never did . . . except with her. He leaned in so she could feed from his throat. Slender fingers curving around the side of his neck, a soft breath kissing his skin, her scent slinking around him like an affectionate cat.
His already rigid cock went stone hard when she sank her small fangs into his vein. To feed her, to care for her, it gave him so much pleasure that he knew he was in trouble beyond anything he'd ever before handled. He cradled her head to him regardless, glorying in the pleasure of the intimate blood kiss.
She took her time, sipping slowly rather than gulping and getting it over with.
When she did end the kiss, it was with a press of her lips against his skin. "Okay," she said in a husky tone that stroked him just right, "maybe I could grow to enjoy drinking blood in some very limited circumstances." A nuzzle against his throat. "Will you feed from me?"
Venom shuddered. "When we're safe." He wouldn't take much, the act more about the offer and the acceptance than sustenance.
She nuzzled his throat again, small and fierce and strangely gentle with him. "I want to curl up and sleep."
"Soon." Forcing himself to break the skin-to-skin contact, he took a quick breath before rising, tugging her up at the same time. "We're nearly there."
They eased their way into a fast run, Holly moving more fluidly after the fresh injection of blood and food. Her distance from the abomination in the crib was also likely helping; the less strength she had to expend on fighting the alien energy from taking over, the more she had for herself.
The two of them made it to their destination just as true dawn cracked the world in spears of burning gold and brilliant red. That destination was a lodge deep within the trees. There were other lodges scattered through the forest, but all were far enough from one another that privacy was assured. Owned by the very wealthy, these lodges were winter homes meant for the skiing season.
The actual runs were a short distance away, which meant the forest around the cabins was thick, cocooning the homes in lush green solitude.
It so happened that the wealthy vampire who owned this lodge was part of Jason's network of spies. Venom had once asked Raphael's spymaster--a fellow member of the Seven--how he could be certain that a vampire who'd been so long in Michaela's territory could now be loyal to Raphael. "Michaela has her moments," Venom had said, "but she's not evil for the most part, and she protects the innocents in her territory."
"She also flays vampires alive and uses their skin to make purses," Jason had replied, his wings blending in with the night as they stood on a Tower balcony on a moonless eve.
Shrugging, Venom had said, "Aside from that."
Jason's eyes had actually glinted with humor, the tribal tattoo that covered one side of his face an astonishing work of fine curves and dots. "Michaela ordered the death of a vampire our ally loved deeply," he'd answered at last, the humor fading into a cool darkness. "It was not a deserved death--Michaela was capricious in giving the order and though she was apologetic in the aftermath, her remorse couldn't breathe life back into the dead. Our ally and his lover were together for five centuries and devoted to one another always. He will never forgive Michaela for the loss, no matter how long he lives."
It made more sense than a non-immortal--or even a young immortal--could ever understand. Love was a gift that came along rarely in their world, especially love so true that it lasted through centuries--that was beyond a gift. It was a treasure.
"Michaela doesn't understand the depth of her crime," Jason had added with spymaster quietness as his eyes tracked an angel with wings of peacock blue and emerald green who flew with Elena around the Legion skyscraper.
"She's never loved that much, that desperately." The passion in Jason's voice was not a thing of fire, but of thunder, deep and potent. "She thinks he has gotten past it in the hundred years since the death. She has no idea that he sits every night at a table set for two and drinks blood in complete silence while looking at a painting of his love done three centuries earlier by Aodhan."
Venom's eyes went to Holly's profile as she pulled back her hood and shot him a wild grin. And he knew. She'd never bore him, not through centuries and centuries and centuries. And if he won her heart, the fierce wildness of her would be endlessly loyal. He'd never, ever have to worry that she'd reject him. She'd drive him insane on a regular basis, but he'd be hers.
"We made it," she said, but didn't pad her way to the wide steps that led onto the porch fronting the A-frame structure. "You sense any danger?"
Venom shook his head, though she was the most dangerous thing in his world. "It's safe to go in."
Holly moved forward, stopping when he didn't follow. "Come on, Viper Face." Laughter in her expression, her hair rainbow strands across her face where it had escaped her braid. "Your eyes are pretty in the dawnlight, light green fire mixed with gold."
No one but Holly had ever called his eyes pretty. Eerie. Striking. Unique. Yes. But never pretty. Not until her. "And you look like a unicorn kitty who wants to curl up and sleep."
Sticking out her tongue at him, she ran up the steps and, after locating the hidden key exactly where they'd been told it would be, walked into the house. He ran after he
"This 'little winter cabin' has at least three showers," she told him after a short exploration, her eyes wide at the idea of such luxury. "You should use one, too. Jeez, some people are so freaking rich."
Venom wondered when she'd realize he was rich. It made him smile to think of the gift he'd ordered her--she'd either shoot him when she saw it or she'd laugh in amused delight.
Because Holly would make it.
Showering quickly, he dressed in a pair of jeans and a black shirt with long sleeves that he folded back; clothes in multiple sizes had been left in one of the guest suites for those who might come through. When he went into the kitchen, he found it stocked with food as promised. Had anyone from Michaela's court become suspicious about so much food in the home of a vampire, their absent host had a ready explanation: it was for the human mistresses he kept for blood and sex.
Nothing unusual about that. According to Jason, the women never knew that they were literally only conveniences as well as smoke screens. The vampire treated them with politeness and generosity for the time that they hung on his arm and, when it was time to part, he made sure they were in a good situation. "He uses them for cover," Jason had said, "but his heart is never going to belong to anyone else. I think he lives only so he can wreak vengeance on Michaela through such methods as are open to him."
Venom had witnessed that kind of love through time, but he'd believed himself incapable of it after his Making. He was too cold inside, the vipers and cobras that had been part of his Making marking him far more deeply than most people realized.
Bone-deep friendship? Loyalty? Fidelity? That he could do.
But the kind of love that softened a man and made him vulnerable? Love that was so intimate it dug its way into the soul and anchored in with millions of tiny hooks? Love that understood no boundaries, put up no walls, exposed its defenseless throat? How could a viper be capable of that?
Yet Venom was starting to believe he wasn't only capable of it, he'd been built for it. Built to love with the same relentless will that had powered his psychic survival after the unthinkable horror of his Making. All he'd needed to awaken his heart, to turn on that switch of unyielding devotion, was one specific smart, fierce, and deadly woman who took no shit and whose fire was so bright that it embraced his cold without a blink.
Holly Chang. Sorrow. Kitty. Hollyberry.
No matter what he called her, she was the most dangerous adversary he'd ever faced.
Because once that switch flipped on, he knew it would never, ever turn off.
32
Holly stepped out of the glorious heat of the shower to find that Venom had thrown clothes on the bed in the spare bedroom she'd claimed. A loose white sundress with spaghetti straps and little eyelet holes in the lined fabric. It wasn't what she'd have chosen, but, to be fair to Venom, there probably wasn't much of a selection. She pulled it on . . . and had to laugh. She hadn't seen the front, as it had been lying on the bed with the back showing before she tugged it on over her head.
That front had splatters of color across it.
"Okay," she whispered into the mirror, "you do get me."
Not bothering with underwear since her spare pair was shoved in their backpack, which was probably still in the lounge, she brushed her damp hair until her scalp tingled, then headed out . . . straight into a rich, savory scent. Underneath that lay a softer undertone of sugar and cardamom and spice. Her stomach rumbled.
She ran to the kitchen.
And came to a sudden halt.
Feet bare and a pair of well-worn jeans hugging his butt, the black shirt he wore a little worn at the seams and his dark hair falling forward across his face, Venom was . . . She took a deep breath and, bracing her back against the doorjamb, pressed her thighs together. Tight.
When he looked up, she found herself caught in the lethal beauty of his eyes, as if he'd mesmerized her. Holly gripped the doorjamb, her hands behind her back. If she got any closer she might jump his bones, and watching him cook was way, way too much fun for her to end it just yet. "What're you making?"
"Here." The gorgeous man who'd given her the most wonderful vampiric feeding experience of her life put a plate on the counter. "Sit. Eat."
When Holly padded over to scoot up onto one of the three breakfast stools that lined this side of the counter, she saw that he'd made her an omelet with all kinds of things in it. Onion, ham, green peppers, mushrooms. Her stomach rumbled. She'd eaten half of it before she looked up and saw him watching her, a smile playing with the edges of his lips. "Get back to your cooking," she ordered.
And he laughed.
God, he was beautiful.
Her heart went all askitter despite what she knew of his view of relationships. Because Holly wasn't thinking about just a fun time in bed. Not with him. Not with the one man who'd always pushed her buttons and who challenged her on a daily basis.
No matter what they'd convinced themselves, it would never be simple, not between them.
Eating the second half of her omelet with a little more grace, she watched as he picked up a covered bowl of what proved to be dough. After using his fingers to quickly bite off the dough and shape the bites into small, flat circles, he began to roll out each piece. The tendons in his forearms shifted with every move, the burnished brown of his skin taut over pure muscle. She suddenly understood the obsession with cooking shows on television. Because if the chefs all looked like this . . .
Her toes curled.
Dough rolled out, Venom cut each circle in half before turning on the power to the wok he had on the stove. It only took him a few seconds to pour in enough oil for deep frying. He'd already made something else in a little pot--the man was fast--and now shifted it next to the rolled-out dough. Then his hands were moving to create small triangular pockets so fast she could barely follow the movement; as she watched wide-eyed, in went the filling before he sealed up the final edge of the pocket.
"Are you making samosas?" she whispered, barely daring to interrupt the magic.
A quick nod before he dropped the prepared samosas into the hot oil. The sizzle of frying dough filled the air, making Holly's stomach rumble all over again. The omelet had barely touched the hole in her belly. "Why am I so hungry all the time?"
Venom gave her a considering look. "Elena's hungry a lot of the time, too."
"That at least makes sense. I mean, she turned into an angel and grew wings. There's probably all kinds of stuff going on inside her." Holly drew in the delicious smell of Venom's creation. "Can I please have one?"
"A little longer." Venom flipped the samosas. "Keir," he said, naming the senior-most angelic healer, "says Elena is still becoming, still growing into her new skin."
"You think that's happening to me." Holly's eyes widened as he lifted up another pot she hadn't noticed at the back of the range, and poured a milky light brown liquid into a small mug for her.
She almost cried when she lifted it to her nose and sniffed--to be hit by the smell of cardamom and tea and the bite of other spices she couldn't identify. "You made me masala chai?" It was stupid, how her throat got all thick. He couldn't know how much she loved the stuff. So much that she'd given it up during the dark time when she'd wanted to end herself--she'd thought herself a monster who didn't deserve anything nice, not even a simple cup of her beloved chai.
Venom said, "I saw the tea packets at your place in New Jersey before I was transferred out of New York." A disdainful curl of his lip. "Real chai is made from the ground up. This is the quick-and-dirty version, until I have time to grind the right spices for you."
Even though she knew it was too hot, Holly dared take a sip. The slight burn was worth it. The sweet
A sharp look, Venom's eyes glinting. "Drink your chai and eat this." He put several samosas on a plate he'd already layered with paper towels, and then, as soon as the excess oil had been soaked away, he transferred the hot pockets to her plate.
Holly forced herself to put aside the delicious, delicious chai he'd made for her because he knew she liked it, and picked up a piping hot samosa using the tips of her thumbs and forefingers. "What's inside?" she asked in an effort to make herself wait so she didn't sear her tongue.
"Potato and peas," Venom said. "Fastest option."
Holly took a bite and flavors exploded on her tongue. Potatoes and peas? Hah! He'd mixed in all kinds of spices that took those prosaic items to a whole new level. She basically inhaled an entire one before coming up for air. "Where did you find the spices?"
"Our host must've told his housekeeper to fully stock the kitchen. There was an entire unopened spice set." He put the extra samosas to drain. "What do you want for dessert?"
Holly had her mouth full of most of a second samosa--she was well past trying to look in any way elegant--and had to wait to reply. After swallowing the samosa down with chai, she dug up a smidgen of shame. "Are you sure? You already made so much." All things she loved.
And the aggravating viper expected her to keep her emotional distance?
"Seeing how much you can put away is currently my favorite entertainment show."
"Ha ha." Holly decided she'd kick him later. When he wasn't cooking for her. "Do you know how to make cinnamon pinwheels?"
"No. Describe them to me."
After she did--around bites of a third samosa--she met his eyes. "Are you--"
"The bottled blood I've already had should keep me going for a long period, but there are more bottles inside the fridge. None are flavored."
Holly laughed. "You liked the flavors, admit it."
"Do I look like a barbarian?" Seeing that she'd almost finished her chai, he refilled her mug with an easy motion.
Holly had never before felt so incredibly spoiled. It softened things inside her that she hadn't even realized were still hard. Hopping off the stool, she walked around the counter and wrapped her arms around Venom from behind, pressing her cheek against the muscled warmth of his back.