Prologue #2
“We’ll see how cooperative Ice is with that. He might have his ass hidden in the most out-of-the-fucking-way place imaginable.”
He arched a chastising brow for her ribbing, but vowed, “Nothing could keep me away.”
“Better not.” She turned away and wiggled her ass at him. “Neither of you wants me hunting you down…”
By noon, Vashti was sashaying into Syre’s office with a memento from her latest hunt in hand. The vampire leader wasn’t alone, but she felt no hesitation in interrupting.
The woman with him was one of countless human females who’d caught Syre’s eye and lost it just as quickly. It didn’t matter if they were forewarned or not; they never believed he was completely unattainable until they experienced his dismissal firsthand.
He was a passionate man, but physical enthusiasm was no sign of deeper interest. Syre had lost his wings for love, then he’d lost the woman he had given them up for.
“Syre.”
He glanced at her with the heavy-lidded gaze that drove women crazy.
He stood with arms crossed and his hip canted into the short built-in bookcase behind his desk.
Dressed in black tailored slacks and a black silk tie paired with a crisp white dress shirt, he was both elegant and devastatingly attractive.
His inky dark hair and warm, caramel-hued skin made him unique in a way that was impossible to classify. Eastern European, some guessed.
Syre had been favored once, much loved by the Creator. She believed it was why their fall had been punished so harshly—he’d had a very lofty perch to tumble from.
“Vashti,” he greeted, his voice as throaty and warm as whiskey. “Things go well?”
“Of course.”
The blonde who’d been overstaying her welcome shot daggers at Vash, as most of his lovers did. They mistook the connection between her and her superior officer as something far more than it was.
Their relationship was personal and priceless, but it wasn’t intimate or romantic. Vash would give her life for Syre’s in an instant, but the love she bore him sprang only from respect, loyalty, and the knowledge that he would die as readily for her.
She gave the woman a sympathetic smile, but spoke bluntly, as was her way. “Don’t call him; he won’t call you.”
“Vashti,” Syre admonished in a warning tone. He was too much of a gentleman to make the clean breaks that would spare him a lot of messy confrontations.
She didn’t have such qualms. “He wanted you, he had you, and you had a good time. There’s nothing else beyond that.”
“What are you?” the lovely blonde shot back. “His pimp?”
“No. That would make you a trick.”
“Enough, Vashti.” Syre’s voice cracked like a whip.
“You’re so jealous,” the blonde hissed, her perfect features contorting from her frustration and hurt.
Her emotional spillage contrasted sharply with her pristine, perfect exterior.
Her sleek chignon, fashionable pillbox hat, and tidy feminine suit were so cool compared to her heated response. “You can’t stand that he’s with me.”
Sadly, the woman couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
Vash would give up everything but Charron to see her commander happy again.
If it would’ve made a difference to do so, she would point out what a striking couple they made—the regal blonde and the debonair dark prince.
But the heart Syre’s mortal wife had awakened in him had died along with her.
“I’m trying to save you from weeks of humiliating yourself,” Vash said as kindly as possible.
“Fuck you.”
“Diane,” Syre said firmly, straightening and moving to catch her by the elbow. “I’m sorry to have to end our pleasurable association so abruptly, but I can’t allow anyone to speak to Vashti in that manner.”
Diane’s cornflower blue eyes widened, and her painted mouth formed an astonished O. She stumbled along beside him as he led her out of the room. “But you allow her to talk to me the way she did? How can you?”
When Syre returned, alone, his handsome features were grim. “You’re in a mood today,” he said curtly.
“I just saved you from a week or more of begging and pleading. You’re welcome. And you need a mistress.”
“My sexual proclivities are none of your concern.”
“Your mental well-being is,” she shot back. “Find someone whose company you enjoy and keep her around. Let her look after you a bit.”
“I don’t need the complication.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated.” She dropped into one of the seats in front of his desk, her hands smoothing her tailored khaki slacks.
“I’m talking about a business arrangement.
I don’t understand it myself, but there are some women who can have sex just because it’s fun.
Set one up in a nice place and give her an allowance. ”
Syre shook his head. “I’m insulted by even the concept of fucking a woman who feels obligated to comply.”
“There isn’t a woman alive who would find it a chore.”
Even she, a woman who was happily mated to the love of her life, wasn’t immune to Syre’s sexual appeal. He was the kind of man who hit a woman right between the eyes every time she saw him. Sensuous, seductive, hypnotic.
“You will cease talking about this.”
Her brow arched. “No, I won’t. You need someone to care about you, Samyaza.”
The use of his angelic name thrust home her seriousness. His gaze sharpened and narrowed as he sank into his chair behind the desk. “No.”
“I didn’t say love you. Care about you. Someone to enjoy coffee with you in the morning, just the way you like it. Someone to rewatch a favorite movie with you. You know, just someone who’s around who knows you and wants good things for you.”
Leaning back, he set his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingertips together.
“I’ve been asked to explain you at times.
Explain what you are to me. I haven’t come up with the right answer yet.
You are my second, but you’re not merely a subordinate officer to me.
We’re more than friends, yet I don’t view you as a sister.
I love you, but I’m not in love with you.
I am aware of your beauty as any man would be, yet I’m not interested in sleeping with you. ”
“Nor I with you,” she agreed.
“You are the most important woman in my life, and I’d be utterly lost without you, but I would never want to cohabitate with you. What are you to me, Vashti? What gives you the right to discuss such personal matters with me?”
She frowned. Categorizing what they were to each other was something she’d never done. For her, their relationship just…was. She was an extension of him in many ways.
“I’m your right hand,” she decided, then she tossed him the object she held.
He caught it deftly, his reflexes quick and agile. “What is this?”
“Half of a charm I took off Asmodeus’s lackey. I left the other half on the pile of ashes she turned into when I killed her. When it was whole, it bore Asmodeus’s sigil.”
“You’re taunting him.”
Vash shook her head. “Three in two weeks? That’s not a coincidence. He’s allowing—maybe even encouraging—his underlings to toy with us. We’re a prize. Angels who were thrown away like garbage.”
“We have enough enemies as it is.”
“No, we have jailers—the Sentinels and their lycan dogs. The demons are possible enemies if we don’t correct them. We have to take a stand.”
“This isn’t the way I would see things handled.”
“Yes, it is. That’s why you put me in charge of dealing with demon annoyances.” She crossed her legs. “You can shake on a truce with your other hand. I’m the hand that flips them off.”
A commotion in the hallway pushed her swiftly to her feet. Vash moved to the open doorway with preternatural speed, beating Syre by a mere millisecond.
What she saw froze her blood.
Raze and Salem carried an all-too-familiar body into the house, making a beeline for the dining room, where they laid him on the long oval table.
“What the fuck happened?” she snapped, entering the room and staring at Ice’s motionless body. The minion’s skin was burned black in places and blistered all over. Blood soaked his T-shirt and stained his jeans to the knees. Tears in his clothing revealed the clawing marks of lupine paws.
His hand reached out lightning quick, caging her wrist. He opened bloodshot eyes. “Char…help…”
For a moment, the room spun, then everything drew inward, coalescing in frigid clarity. “Where?”
“Old mill. Lycans… Help him…”
Yanking one of Raze’s blades free of the scabbard on his back, Vash spun on her heel and raced into the gloaming.