he’d been subtly invited to bed sport by four vampires and two angels, one of whom had run her hand down the lapel of his impeccably fitted jacket and murmured that he looked “good enough to eat.”
Holly sighed. “I see the shares in Cheap Suits Co. are paying off.”
“It did seem a wise investment.”
Her eyes sparked laughing green fire at him before she spun on her heel and strode to the elevator, the back of her dress hugging the tight curves of her body. “Keep up, old man.”
Venom felt the urge to bite her. Of course, she’d probably bite back harder. Walking into the elevator by her side, he rode down with her in silence. It was prickly, of course. It always was—as if the strangeness that lived in them both was irritated by the proximity. Just to see if contact would further the prickles, he touched the curve of her lower back as they stepped out of the elevator.
“Do you want me to break your wrist?” she asked with acerbic politeness.
“You’re being very reasonable today.” He did drop his hand, but only because he had to slide on his sunglasses. After three hundred and fifty years, Venom was well accustomed to using his looks to distract or to cause fear or to charm.
It turned out women liked the eyes if he gave them a certain look.
However, he didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with horrified gapes. It reminded him too much of the most painful day of his existence, when he’d seen the same expression on the faces of those who meant more to him than his own life. Oddly, Holly had never given him that gape. Instead, she’d told him that if he left his fancy contacts in too long, his eyes would rot and fall out. Venom had known from that instant that the girl everyone thought broken would survive.
“I’m hoping it’ll rub off,” she said after they exited the Tower. “That you’ll learn a few manners.”
Venom had come from Neha’s court, had been one of her favorites because of his smooth manners and charm. With Holly, however, he reacted from a more primal place. “Here,” he said, opening the passenger door of his low-slung car. “A lady should go first.”
“Oh, sir, how gallant of you.” With that breathy statement worthy of an ingénue, Holly got in and crossed her legs, her purse in her lap.
Lips curved, Venom shut the door and got into the driver’s seat. “Put on your seat belt.” Vampires were near-immortal, but losing the head would finish them both off. And Holly wasn’t quite a vampire. Like another one of the Seven, Naasir, Holly was unique. Neither one thing or the other. But while Naasir was at peace with his dual nature, Holly either ignored it or fought it.
“Of course,” she said. “Safety first.” She put on her seat belt with exaggerated care. “So nice of you to care.”
“I always care for the kitties I babysit.”
A rumbling sound from the passenger seat before Holly strangled the feral emanation.
Venom shot her a glance. “What was that?” he asked in genuine curiosity. “You sounded more like Naasir than anything else.”
“It was human irritation,” she muttered.
No, it hadn’t been.
Venom thought back to what he knew of Uram’s archangelic abilities and what the insane immortal might’ve passed on to Holly. Most vampires didn’t receive anything but near-immortality as a result of the Making process, but there were rare exceptions: Venom was the way he was because Neha was the Queen of Poisons, of Snakes.
Uram had had no such reputation or inclination. And, since he’d died at the dawn of the Cascade that had awakened new abilities in all the living archangels, there was no way to know the inheritance he’d left to Holly when he’d forced her to ingest his blood.
Venom frowned. Was it possible Holly was directly feeling the power-birthing or boosting effects of the Cascade? It was meant to affect only archangels and a limited number of the most powerful angels, but Holly’s Making had been unusual in every possible way. Maybe Uram had left such a strong imprint on her cells that she was catching the edge of the Cascade.
Normally, he’d ask Raphael these questions, but the archangel he chose to call sire was in Morocco for a meeting of the Cadre, the archangels who ruled the world.
Even had Raphael been here, he might not have had the answer. Because while Uram and Raphael had been friends once, they hadn’t been close in all the years