“No.” Dmitri brought the car to a halt in front of the shallow steps that led up to the entrance. “In certain periods, it was the done thing to keep your ‘cattle’ within easy reach. Valeria continues to hold to that practice, though it’s come to be considered an archaic one by most of her contemporaries.”
Valeria.
Her hands wanted to grab the huge hunting knife in the sheath at her ankle and rush through the door, gut the vampire, but she forced herself to wait though her pulse beat only a single word—vengeance. “Did the cattle volunteer?”
“There are always those who volunteer.” He pushed open his door and stood to strip off his coat, revealing the soft black cotton of his T-shirt.
She thought of Carmen, how the blonde had debased herself before Dmitri, until Honor had been humiliated for her. “You’ve never had any trouble.”
Dmitri didn’t answer until they met in front of the car. “There are different kinds of trouble.”
She saw something unexpected in him at that moment, a quiet, dark thing as raw and painful as that which lived within her. “Dmitri,” she began, just as the door of the house opened to reveal a maid in a crisp black and white uniform.
“It’s time.”
Her entire body going hot then cold at his words, she walked up the three wide steps with him. The maid stepped aside as they neared. “The mistress is in the morning room, sir.”
Honor had no idea what a morning room was, but Dmitri gave a clipped nod. “We won’t need you. Take the day off. The Tower will contact you tomorrow.”
The maid paled, but said only, “Yes, sir. The cook is also here.”
“Tell her she doesn’t need to be. Valeria’s cattle?”
“In the guesthouse.”
“Get them out. You have five minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” Bobbing her head, the maid bolted down the hall.
That was when Honor realized she’d caught a glimpse of fang. “She was a vampire.” Yet Honor felt no fear; the other woman was obviously so much weaker than her, regardless of her vampirism.
“Young,” Dmitri answered, shutting the door with a quiet snick. “Serving out her Contract. I’d say first decade.”
“No wonder she seemed so human.”
“Some of the weak ones never lose that core of humanity.” With that, Dmitri led her down the corridor—it was lined with carpet of deep burgundy, the walls covered with the most exquisite cream paper embossed with a subtle motif. Near-immortality did give the Made longer to gain wealth, but Honor had known vamps hundreds of years old who’d never reached this level of affluence. So either Valeria had begun with wealth or she’d created it through a combination of power, will, and ruthless determination.
Dmitri entered a doorway to the right, a shadow in black.
“Dmitri, darling,” came a smoky voice that made Honor’s body fill with cold terror. Then she caught the dark, musky scent of Blood Ruby. Freezing with her back to the wall beside the doorway, she tried to get the tremors to stop, to control the nausea that threatened to bring up the tea that was all she’d had for breakfast.
“Valeria,” Dmitri drawled, even as he twined tendrils of exquisite chocolate and rich liqueur around Honor’s senses. The potency of it overwhelmed the musk of Valeria’s signature perfume, allowed Honor to draw in a breath.
Dmitri spoke again before the woman in the room could respond. “Did I get you out of bed?”
A low, intimate laugh. “That’s one thing you’re always welcome to do.”
Another sickening jolt. She’d never thought to ask Dmitri if he’d slept with the female vampire. Anger followed hard on the heels of the roiling ugliness of the supposition, a hard, vicious bite that made her want to stab him in that muscular back. The very strength of her reaction was a slap, grounding her once more. Wiping her palms on the thighs of her jeans, she pulled out her gun.
Dmitri seemed to sense the instant she steadied, because he straightened and said, “I’ve brought you a visitor.”
“Oh?” A curious question as Dmitri shifted aside to allow Honor to step into the opening.
Valeria was reclining on a cream-colored chaise lounge set in front of a window, dressed in a crimson satin robe that stopped midthigh—the belt tied loosely enough at her waist that the inside curve of one perfect breast was artfully exposed. She’d angled her head to ensure the early morning light hit it at the ideal angle to heighten her already stunning features. Long golden brown hair curled over her shoulders to bounce against ni**les gone hard and ready where they touched the satin.
As an invitation, it couldn’t have been clearer.
Until that deep blue gaze turned from its appreciation of Dmitri’s body to fall on Honor. Suddenly Valeria was limbs in motion, fury a red flush across the creamy skin of her face as she rose to her feet—but Honor glimpsed a split second of the most vicious hunger beneath the rage. Valeria was recalling how she’d used Honor, debased her. And she wanted only to do it again.
“Well . . .” Calculation in those stunning eyes that spoke of immortal beauty. “You brought me a snack. You always were a sweetheart.”
Honor saw Dmitri tense and—without thinking—reached out to touch him on his back out of sight of Valeria. Not yet. Coiled tension, taut muscle, but he didn’t strike, this beautiful predator with death in his eyes. “This is a nice room,” he murmured instead in that silken voice Honor never, ever wanted to hear in the dark.
Lines marred the smoothness of Valeria’s forehead. “What?”
“Small windows, though,” Dmitri continued, his back flexing slightly under Honor’s spread hand. Startled to realize she was still touching him, she dropped it. “Means,” he added, “there’s only one exit.”
Honor had always known Dmitri was ruthless, but it was when she glimpsed the dull haze of fear creep over the lake blue of Valeria’s gaze that she understood exactly where he stood in the food chain. The female vampire glanced around, her eyes wild when she faced them again. “It was just a bit of fun, Dmitri. You know how it is.”
“Hmm. Tell me.”
Valeria seemed to take the slow purr as encouragement. “Life can get so tedious after centuries of excess. It was a naughty little thrill to have the hunter at our disposal.” Walking forward, sleek thighs exposed in teasing glimpses through the crimson satin, she ignored Honor to stroke her hand down Dmitri’s chest, slow and with unhidden pleasure.
Honor’s fingers clenched on the gun. It took teeth-gritting control not to put a bullet right between those blue eyes so wide and alluring.
Dmitri simply raised his hand, closed it over the vampire’s. “An intriguing game,” he said, his voice dropping as he tugged Valeria ever closer, until he was speaking with his lips brushing her ear, her br**sts flush against his chest. “I wouldn’t have thought you that creative.” He fisted his free hand in the brunette’s hair.
Valeria’s eyes closed, her body shuddering from the contact with his muscled body. “I would take the credit”—a husky whisper—“but you’d find me out.”
Dmitri’s laugh would’ve made Honor thrust a blade in his gut and run as far as humanly possible. But Valeria smiled, opened her eyes. “I got an invitation.” A greedy look over at Honor. “Her fear was so potent by the time I got there, but she wouldn’t scream or beg. Not for weeks.”
Dmitri jerked Valeria’s face back toward him, the act ungentle. “You kept the invitation, didn’t you?”
“Yes. It was a memento.” Lips trailing over his jaw. “Did you bring her for me, Dmitri? Can I have her all to myself?”
Honor touched her hand to Dmitri’s back again, not knowing why she believed that would do any good, not even knowing why she thought she could possibly read this vampire so old and powerful it made her bones ache to think about it.
“First tell me who you shared her with,” he whispered, ignoring the fact that Valeria had tugged open the tie of her robe to expose creamy skin framed in crimson. “I want to know who else has your tastes.”
“But I want her to myself.” Petulance.
“Valeria.”
The woman all but orgasmed at the command in that voice full of knife blades and midnight screams. “They say you make it hurt, Dmitri.”
In response, he used his grip on her hair to pull her head back so hard it made tears form in her eyes. She licked her lips, made no effort to cover the dark pink nipple exposed by the shift of satin over skin. “Tommy. I saw Tommy there once when I ran late during my turn with her.”
Honor remembered that day, remembered the elegant female voice arguing with the deeper male one as Valeria cajoled the man into allowing her to stay.
“We’ll play together.” The sound of clothes brushing up against each other, the wetness of a slow kiss. “You know you like the way I play.”
The man—Tommy—had eventually folded. Together the two of them had . . . they’d made Honor scream. Her hand clenched on Dmitri’s T-shirt as he moved the hand not in Valeria’s hair to close around her throat. “Just Tommy?”
“There were others, but I never saw. We had our own times.” Breasts rising and falling, lips parting.
“The invitation, Valeria.” Unvarnished command. “Tell me about the invitation.”
The brunette shaped the rigid muscle of his chest with possessive hands Honor wanted to break into a thousand pieces. “In my bedroom, in the top drawer of the little table beside the bed.” Fingers trailing down to tug up his tee, revealing skin of a warm, dark tan. “I’ll show you when we go up.” Again, her eyes shifted to Honor. “I want her.”
That was when Dmitri smiled, arched Valeria’s neck again . . . and slit her throat with about as much emotion as might be expected from a hunting cat taking down prey, the heavy blade a sleek silver shimmer in the morning sunlight.