Janvier closed the distance between them, his body heat a caress. “It was her ace in the hole. I can’t see her giving that away, can you, cher?”
“No.” It was Naasir who’d told them the Archangel of China could share strength with her generals, but it wasn’t a permanent transfer. As soon as Lijuan was out of the equation, those generals had crumpled.
Hands on her hips, she chewed on another possibility. “Lijuan’s creations tend to be infectious.” The archangel’s horrific reborn had been a plague. “Only”—Ashwini frowned—“she wasn’t creating when she fed. The sacrifices ended up shells, so I guess we’re back to square one on that.”
Janvier shifted to take the brunt of a fresh gust of wind. “I’ll report our theories to Raphael nonetheless. He must be alerted to the possibility that Lijuan may have left a lingering taint in the city.”
Ashwini raised both eyebrows. “Back in Atlanta, you said you’d never met him, and now you’re on a first-name basis?”
“I hadn’t met him then,” he said, that sneakily seductive sunlight still in his eyes. “Vampires my age do not usually ever have personal contact with the archangel to whom we give our allegiance.”
“Most vampires your age aren’t as strong as you.” Or as smart, as tough. Having long ago fulfilled the terms of his Contract, Janvier didn’t have to serve anyone. He chose to do so. “You’re an asset.”
“And the sire”—Janvier cupped her cheek—“treats his assets well.”
Not wanting to understand the implicit message, she broke the contact to focus on a car in the distance, its brake lights glowing rubies in the gray light of dusk. “I’ll do some research in the Guild Archives, see if I can find any similar cases.”
Janvier began to walk toward the town house that was his objective, his expression telling her he saw too much. “I’ll let you know if Dmitri has any insights.” Metal creaked as he pushed open the decorative wrought-iron gate that fronted the short pathway to the town house. “Let us see to the health of these cattle first.”
Ashwini took in the town house as they walked, grasping at the distraction from the need that was a wrenching tug low in her belly. The building appeared new; the walls gleamed a stylish black, but the door was painted the same glossy orange-red as the gate, as was the trim. “Nice place.” If you had a million or ten lying around.
“Want one?” said the vampire by her side. “I can buy it, allow you to live rent free on the premises.”
“Yeah?” she said, playing along because she only had so much self-control when it came to Janvier, and she wasn’t about to use it to handle his flirting . . . didn’t want to shut that down. “On what condition?”
“I would have a key, of course. To make sure you are keeping my property in good repair.” His innocent look had probably spelled the downfall of at least a hundred virgins in his lifetime.
“Such a conscientious landlord. Would you fix the plumbing, too?”
“If you let me put my pipe in your sprocket.” Pure wickedness in his smile at her groan, he ignored the door knocker shaped like a snarling lion to rap his knuckles directly against the gleaming paint.
She wanted so badly to kiss him that the craving was a ferocious beast inside her. Smile fading as his pupils dilated, Janvier went to angle his body toward her when the door opened to bring her face-to-face with the last person she’d expected to see here. “Arvi?” She stared incredulously at the tall man with aquiline features, silver-dusted black hair, and skin the exact shade as her own.
Her brother stared at her. “What are you doing here?”
“She’s with me.” No charm in Janvier’s expression now, only a cool, deadly intensity that had never been directed at Ashwini. “You aren’t one of the cattle.”
Arvi flinched. “Certainly not. I was called here to provide medical assistance.”
“I wasn’t aware you did house calls,” Ashwini said, her brain running on automatic.
“It was a favor for a friend.” He pinned her with the near black of his eyes. “I’ll expect you for dinner in the next week.”
Ashwini stared after him as he strode past her and down the pathway on that command. She hadn’t seen him for two months, but though the silver in his hair might be a touch more apparent, his face remained unlined. Arvan Taj was a man who’d age into handsome elegance. And his smile? It could devastate; she knew that despite having seen it only once since she was nine.
“He’s the one, isn’t he?” Janvier asked, voice rough and expression dark. “The boy whose photo you carry in your phone, the one who hurt you.”
She realized he’d gotten the wrong idea, but the door filled with another body before she could correct him. The blonde’s stunning blue-green eyes were round with worry until they alighted on Janvier. “Janni!” She leaped into his arms.
Catching her, he chuckled, the grating emotion Ashwini had just heard in his tone no longer in evidence when he said, “Petite Marie May.”
Folding her arms, Ashwini leaned against the wall as the giggling girl tried to kiss Janvier on the mouth. He deflected it as smoothly as he did everything else, taking the kiss on his cheek before setting her down. “What are you doing here, Marie?” he asked with what Ashwini recognized as genuine concern. “Last I saw you, you were set on becoming a star of the silver screen, non?”
Marie beamed, her expression so earnest, it was scary. “I live with Giorgio.” She stroked her hands down her ankle-length gown of cream lace, the bodice modest and the sleeves long. “I serve him.”
“When did this happen?” A soft question. “You are barely out of pigtails.”
Marie’s curls bounced as she slapped Janvier playfully on the chest, clearly not realizing how angry he’d become. “Janni! I’m nineteen next month.” An antique amethyst ring sparkled on her index finger. “Giorgio and I met at the studios—he’s a producer, you know.”
“I see. He plans to share your talent with the world?”
“Not yet.” Marie made a face. “He says I’m too young for the piranha pit and should be twenty-one at least before I start. He got me into the most incredible acting master class, though”—a clap of her hands, the smile back on high beam—“so I’ll be ready when it’s time!”
Not sure what to think of this Giorgio, Ashwini held her silence while Janvier whispered in Marie’s ear, the rich brown strands of his hair sliding to touch the gold of hers. The sight should’ve made Ashwini jealous. It didn’t. Because Janvier’s capacity for loyalty was unrelenting and she had his unspoken promise . . . even though she’d done her hardest to give it back, regardless of her desire to hoard it close.
Smile washing away to a faded watercolor of its previous self, Marie bit down on her lower lip, her mouth a perfect pink bow, and glanced over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t say.” It was a whisper.
“Marie.” Janvier touched his finger to the creamy skin of her cheek, a coaxing smile on his face. “It is a complaint. You know I must investigate.”
Marie glanced over her shoulder again, then gestured him closer after shooting a wary look at Ashwini. “It’s not all of us, just Brooke.” Her nose scrunched up. “She’s been with Giorgio the longest and she was mad because she thought Giorgio was paying more attention to me and Leisel than to her, so she started telling people he was hurting her.”
Taking a breath, Marie continued. “Today she even cut herself! Now that Giorgio’s been so good to her with the doctor and everything, she’s sorry, but the rumors have already started.” The stamp of a small foot under the lace of the dress. “It’s so unfair.”
“I’ll need to talk to Brooke.”
“I’ll get her.” All the fury leaked out of her as quickly as it had built up. “Don’t be angry at her, okay?” Her eyes pleaded with Janvier. “She’s crazy about Giorgio. She thinks . . .”