Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter series Book 7)

Sighing, Janvier said, “All four?”


“They think you’re delicious.” She tried not to find his less than enthusiastic expression adorable and failed. “I’m the impediment.”

“Rescue me in fifteen?”

“We’ll see.”

Louis obligingly said something right then, and she turned on Janvier. “I can’t believe you did that!” She shoved at his chest, the warm muscle beneath flexing under her touch. “You cheating piece of vampire slime! I hate you!”

“Bébé.” Janvier spread his arms, voice cajoling. “It was nothing, a taste onl—”

“That’s it!” She inserted an infuriated high-drama scream in lieu of throwing a drink in his face. “We’re done! Go taste someone else, you bastard!”

? ? ?

Janvier watched Ashwini stride away, her hips moving provocatively beneath the snug fit of her jeans. “Take care of her,” he said quietly to his friend. “She is my eternity, Louis.”

“As you pointed out, she can take care of herself,” the other man replied, “but I’ll keep an eye on her in case she needs backup.” Grabbing Ash’s jacket after Janvier slid his eyes to it, Louis went after her.

Turning to the bar, Janvier found the barkeep giving him a sympathetic look. “Women,” the younger male said with a shrug. “She was seriously hot, though. The dangerous kind of hot.”

Yes, his Ashblade was dangerous.

The dark-haired woman sidling over to him, her body clad in a sparkly green jumpsuit that ended barely south of her ass, was a mewling kitten in comparison.

Pretending not to see her, he nursed his drink. It was a single-malt whiskey, a good one, the flavor rich and textured.

It stood no chance against the intoxicating wildness that was the taste of his hunter.

Her kiss earlier had staggered him, enslaved him. He wasn’t surprised at his body’s response—he’d known for a long time that Ash owned him and always would. He just had to convince her to claim him, brand him. A public kiss? Hell, yes, he’d take that as a first step.

“Hi.”

Taking his time to respond to the soft greeting, he found himself looking into a pair of uptilted brown eyes made up with glittering green and black kohl, her cheekbones sharp under glowing brown skin and her hair a sheet of ebony. “Hi.” He kept his tone deliberately cool, reading her like he would an open book—the kitten, it seemed, wanted to play with a wolf.

Sinking her teeth into her plump lower lip, the gloss she wore a sheen of wet, she slid her hand down his biceps. “I saw your girlfriend leave.”

When he didn’t shake her off, she stepped close enough that her breasts pressed into his body, her fingers curving around his upper arm at the same time. “She didn’t treat you right.”

“She’s passionate.” A woman who loved and fought with her heart and her soul, unrestrained and furiously honest.

“I can be passionate.” A husky invitation. “And I have friends.”

Shifting to face the group toward which she’d nodded, the three others ensconced in an intimate seating area, he found enticing smiles pointed in his direction. “Are your friends accommodating?” He leaned back with his elbows braced on the bar.

“Oh, yes.” The kitten brushed her fingers over the pulse in her neck. “Very.”

Janvier found her attempts at manipulation amusing; she clearly had no idea of exactly how big a wolf she’d approached. “I don’t move on the claimed.”

“We aren’t with anyone.” A hair flip, both hands now holding on to one of his biceps. “We like our freedom.”

Translated, they liked the high of fangs at the vein but didn’t actually want to get into a relationship with a near-immortal. Allowing his lips to curve into a slightly predatory smile that made the woman’s breath catch, her pupils dilate, he straightened and, drink in one hand, walked with her to her friends.

They’d left a spot for him in between Louis’s fantasy twins. He should’ve taken the invitation, but he didn’t. He didn’t want anyone pawing him, male or female. The deception he was playing didn’t alter the truth of his nature—Janvier had given himself to Ash and that was it. Playing hard to get, he sprawled in an armchair across from the twins, the male donor to his right. Green Jumpsuit perched herself on the arm of his seat, silky thighs within effortless reach.

He didn’t reach, didn’t stroke, but his cool attitude seemed to make the foursome even more eager to please. Before long, the entire group was clustered around him, breathless and excited and ready to go with him into one of the private booths in the back. “Unless you want to feed here,” the blonde on the left said in a sultry tone. “That’s okay, too.”

“Only they don’t allow nudity on the main floor,” the other blonde added, her palm on her chest, above the low-cut neckline of a bustier of incongruously innocent white lace. “We’d like to please you in every way.”