A Dark Kiss of Rapture Read online

  The man lifted his head and looked at Raze, his eyes glowing in the darkness. “Raze, how nice of you to join us. We’ve been expecting you. You are, after all, the guest of honor.”

  Although the distance between them was great, neither of them needed to raise their voices to be heard. “I’d say I was more of a bouncer. One who’s going to bounce all your nutty asses into Hell.”

  “Where are your friends? Surely you didn’t come to such an occasion alone?”

  “Yeah, it’s just me. I tried to round up more of a party, but everyone said it’d be a dud. They were right.” Although he kept his descent easy and casual, Raze was hyperaware of new participants to the game as black-clad minions crawled toward him like ants. “Who are you?”

  “Don’t you remember me?”

  “Nope. You don’t ring any bells.” He could tell being forgotten really chafed and that made him smile. In the back of his mind, he considered the possibility that Adrian might leave him hanging in the wind—the Sentinel hadn’t actually agreed to show up. But Raze had no choice but to proceed as if reinforcements were on the way. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  “That’s my goal.” The man walked closer, his arms extended in dramatic fashion. “The Fallen are so busy wishing to be the angels you once were that you never enjoy being what you are.”

  Raze pulled one katana out of its sheath, the moonlight glinting off the silver-plated blade. “The only thing I don’t like about what I am now is how much time I have to waste hunting dickheads like you.”

  “Ah... you’d prefer to continue your quest to fuck everything willing to sate your lust. Of all the Fallen, you’re one of the most pitiable. At least the others fell for love. You fell only because you can’t keep you dick out of warm, wet holes.”

  Pivoting, Raze sliced the head off the minion who’d attempted to come at him from behind. He took out two more who lunged from the sides, his speed and strength fueled by the bitter truth that had been thrown in his face. Grimm’s eternal love bullshit was why Raze had volunteered to hunt him down to begin with. The twisting of love to achieve an even more twisted end stirred violence and fury inside him. He’d watched his fellow Watchers give up their wings for it, and Grimm’s doctrine made a mockery of that terrible, heartrending sacrifice.

  “See how he slays the bravest of us?” the idiot prophet asked his minions. “His own people. Weakening us from within. This is who we’ve elected to follow and yet they lead us nowhere! We remain in the shadows, hidden from the world, while—”

  “Are you going to shut him up,” Adrian asked, landing gracefully on a bench and swatting away the incoming surge of minions with an impatient swat of his massive wings, “or is that what you needed me for?”

  The vampires on the field had staggered to their feet when Adrian appeared and now they scrambled in every direction. It was a natural, instinctive urge to run from an apex predator, but the Sentinel leader himself inspired a unique awe and fear. Like Syre, Adrian had been blessed by the Creator, gifted with a face and form that was the height of angelic perfection. The thirty-foot expanse of his alabaster wings glimmered in the moonlight, the pure pristine white of the feathers framed by crimson tips, as if he’d trailed the edges through freshly spilled blood. That band of red was a vivid reminder of what he was—a weapon tasked with punishing the Fallen and containing their minions.

  “He’s mine.” Raze raced down the steps and vaulted onto the field at the same moment a dozen lycans in lupine form hit the grass, converging on the panicked mass. He went after the leader, who surprisingly stood his ground and faced off with a pistol in hand.

  “I could change your life, Raze.”

  “Gimme your name.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Raze shrugged and twirled his blade with practiced ease. “Always good to have a name to go with a kill.”

  The man smiled. “You won’t kill me. You need me to tell you if there are more of us, and if so, how many more and where they are. And I won’t kill you because I need you, too. If you’d think outside the box, you’d realize that you could be the cornerstone of massive, sweeping advancement. You could have the mate you deserve. You could—”

  “You don’t know what I deserve.”

  “Don’t make me hurt you, Raze.” He looked over Raze’s shoulder and his smile widened. “You surprised me by bringing in the Sentinels and their dogs, but we had to get rid of them at some point. Now is as good a time as any.”

  Using the man’s distraction, Raze whipped out the blade strapped to his left thigh and threw it, striking the prophet in the throat. The gun discharged. Pain ripped through Raze along with the bullet that shot clear through his shoulder and out the other side. The wound healed almost instantly, proving the man’s words to be true: he didn’t want Raze dead or he’d have used a silver-laced bullet.

  Behind him, the field erupted with the sounds of gunfire and the yelps of wounded lycans. Raze dropped to the ground. As the robe-clad minions utilized the weapons they’d hidden beneath their robes, his mind quickly assessed his options. Adrian and a female Sentinel took to the field, their wings deflecting bullets and slashing like blades. Screams rent the air. Bodies were severed into pieces.

  Most minions never knew what it was like to face a Sentinel. They could never prepare for the lethality of those magnificent wings that sliced like blades and were impervious to all mortal implements of destruction. Unique to each angel, the patterns and colors said much about the angel’s soul if you knew how to read them, and their average thirty-foot span meant it was nearly impossible to get close enough to inflict any damage.

  Raze took out a minion with his other knife, then crawled to the body of the prophet and took his gun. Lying on his back, he emptied the clip into the converging mass of robe-clad figures, slowing them down so that he could join the fray with his swords. Leaping to his feet, he did just that, cutting a swathe through the chaos.

  Blood spurted and flowed like a river, soaking the grass and splattering Raze until he dripped with it. It was over in moments, leaving a battlefield upon which two Sentinels stood inviolate, surrounded by snarling lycans and a sea of dead bodies.

  Raze pointed the tip of his blade at the two minions he’d managed to spare. “For you two,” he murmured, “the fun is just beginning.”

  * * *

  Raze made it back to his hotel just before dawn. He showered again, finishing the job he’d started with a hosing down at the field. Restlessness gnawed at him. The hunt wasn’t over. What troubled him was that he had no idea what it would take to end it. How many more of Grimm’s devotees were out there?

  Tugging on a pair of black sweats, he propped up his iPad and placed a call to Vashti.

  “Hey,” he greeted her, when her face came on screen.

  “Hey yourself.” Her gaze narrowed. “You’re looking rough. What’s up?”

  It was hard for a vampire to look rough. He was surprised that she said he did, but he brushed past it and caught her up on the night’s events.

  “You killed him?” She leaned back into her sofa cushions. It was rare for her to indulge in any downtime, so rare that it took him a moment to pinpoint her location as her home in Raceport. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. After what they did to the man they left on my porch, he got off easy. I made it quick and painless.”

  Her brow rose. “O-kay... But who’s going to give you intel now that the two minions you captured gave up a whole lotta nada?”

  “I got his name. Eventually, I’ll have his mate.” His mouth curved without humor. “Baron has to have one, if only to practice what he preaches.”

  “Maybe you killed her tonight. Surely she would have been there.”

  “She wasn’t on the field. Trust me, if you’d have seen the way they were dressed and lined up, you’d know that everyone was paired except for him. I agree she was probably there somewhere, but she kept out of sight.”

  “So how are you going to fin
d Mrs. Baron?”

  “I’m emailing you his prints.” Sitting back, he ran a hand over his shaven head. “It’s probably a long shot to hope they registered when they mated, but it won’t hurt to check. I’m also sending you a video. They recorded the killing that brought me here. I found it on a jump drive bracelet Baron was wearing. The recording shows a blond woman doing the deed, but I can’t be sure that’s legit because they sent a doctored version to Adrian that shows me as the killer. That’s what brought him to Chicago.”

  Vash whistled. “They set you up.”

  “My guess is Adrian was leverage. Baron was under the impression that Syre will do just about anything to stay in Adrian’s good graces, including throwing me under the bus. I think his plan was to offer me a mate and sanctuary from the Sentinels after Syre washed his hands of me.”

  “You got all that in the few minutes you let him breathe?”

  “He wouldn’t shut up. One of those assholes who likes to listen to himself talk.”

  “All right. I’ll have Torque look at the prints and video, see what he can dig up. You gonna hang around Chicago for a while?”

  He nodded. The data search was in good hands with Torque, Syre’s son. No one dug up intel better or faster. The rest would be up to Raze. “I’ll wait to hear back from Torque and spend some time on the streets. Maybe they’ll come to me.”

  “Watch your back.” Crossing her long legs on the couch, she leaned toward the screen. “And don’t trust Adrian. He’ll throw you under the bus, too.”

  Touching a finger to his brow in salute, he acknowledged the warning and signed off.

  CHAPTER 3

  When he was asked later what drew him to the small jazz club in an upscale part of Chicago, Raze didn’t have an answer. The place wasn’t his style with its small round tables, live singer, and elegant patrons. But he’d been drawn to it and the sultry voice of the female entertainer that floated into the street on the night breeze. Maybe because it was so different from the hard-edged clubs Torque helmed that gave fledglings a safe place to find blood and sex, and—most importantly—register their name and sire for the records. Raze thought maybe what he needed was a palate cleanser. Something different.

  Damn it. He was restless and unsettled. He could barely stand to be in his hotel room. Even with the television on and the internet at his fingertips, he felt isolated and stifled. He was beginning to wonder if Baron’s bullet had been tainted in some way. It wasn’t like him to... brood. As endless as his life was, he still didn’t have time to waste being a pain in his own ass.

  He paid the club’s cover charge and went inside, discovering a small open space with rust colored walls adorned with massive impressionist canvases. Pendant lights offered intimate illumination, except for at the bar, where the blue glass shelves were lit with bright white light. The floor was covered in multicolored mosaic tiles and patrons danced freely wherever they found an open space, giving the whole establishment a comfortable bohemian feel.

  Sliding onto a barstool, he noted the bartender. The lovely blonde on point looked like she just might be what he needed with her sleeves of tattoos, low-slung leather pants, and curvy body. Her hair hung in dreadlocks to her waist and was held back from her delicate face with a black bandana. She glanced at him, looked away, then immediately glanced back. She licked her pierced lower lip and made her interest known with a heated glance.

  When she’d finished serving her customer, she came over. “What’s your poison?”

  “Shiraz.”

  Her brows rose. “Really? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a wine drinker.”

  “No?”

  “No. Jameson, maybe. Or Glennfiddich.” She poured expertly and set the glass in front of him. “In the mood for something else?”

  His fingertips slid lightly up and down the stem of his glass. “Suggestions?”

  “I’m off at midnight.”

  “I’m free at midnight.”

  Her mouth curved in a sexy smile and she extended her hand. “Sam.”

  He stroked her palm. “Raze.”

  He watched her saunter off, admiring the way black leather hugged her lush ass, then he picked up his glass and stared into it. Still fucking brooding, goddamnit.

  He smelled the woman who stole his interest from Sam before he heard her.

  “She’s not what you want.”

  The clipped, no-nonsense female voice stirred something inside him, as did her scent. He savored both a moment before he looked at her, appreciating both her directness and the fragrance she wore, which was light and sweetly floral, a perfect accompaniment to the natural female scent of her skin.

  Raze glanced aside at the woman who made herself comfortable in the space next to him. She wasn’t his type. Too refined and complicated for his tastes, but there was no denying she was beautiful. Willowy body with modest curves. Creamy skin contrasted by dark hair. Vivid green eyes framed by thick, black lashes. She was an altogether stunning package. “She isn’t?”

  “No.” She hooked one nude stiletto heel on the bar’s foot rail and set elegant hands on the carved wooden lip of the bar top. No rings, which he found surprising. She was the sort of prime choice female that didn’t remain on the market long.

  Raze canted his body toward her. High-class, he thought, noting the Rolex on her wrist and the hefty diamond studs shooting multi-hued fire from her earlobes. In a quick survey, he registered slim gray dress slacks, a sleeveless black silk top, and dark as ink curls piled high and balanced on a long, slender neck.

  An image of her came to his mind... sprawled naked and prone across a red velvet bedspread, her graceful spine arching as he slid his parted lips along its curve. Decadent. That’s what she was, and decadence was what she needed from the man she took to her bed. A long, slow, deep seduction. He didn’t have that patience in him tonight. He’d had blood dripping from every inch of his skin just twenty-four hours ago and he had a cold knot in his gut that ached.

  Lifting his glass, he wet his lips, absently noting the building heat in his blood. Not his type, but he wanted her. “I’m not what you want. Not tonight.”

  She reached for his glass and he gave it up. Blood was the only thing he could ingest, but he’d learned to tolerate a drop or two of red wine.

  Her dark green eyes stared into his over the lip of the glass. She swallowed and made his dick hard. “Shiraz.”

  “Well done,” he murmured, his eyes following the perfect arches of her brows and the sculptured beauty of her cheekbones. With a slow and deep breath, Raze realized every other female in the room had faded into insignificance.

  “I have good taste.” The intimacy of her smile included him in that statement, while the determination in her eyes dismissed his assertion that they weren’t meant to be lovers.

  He ran a hand over his head and debated what to do. He was no longer interested in Sam the bartender, but he wanted sex and he needed blood. And the only person he wanted either from was the one standing in front of him—the kind of woman a guy didn’t take casually. “You could have any guy in this room. Any guy you want.”

  “Perhaps.” She shrugged and settled on the seat beside him. “But I need you. I’m Kim, by the way.”

  She extended her hand. They shook in greeting and he gave her his name.

  “Interesting.” Her eyes sparkled. “Suits you.”

  Raze inclined his head in acknowledgment, maintaining his hold on her for a moment longer than necessary because he got a charge out of it. He’d chosen the name himself after shedding his angelic one. All of the Fallen had recreated themselves and most minions followed suit—a new name for a new life. “Odd place to hunt for a rough ride.”

  Her lush mouth curved on one side. “You’re not rough.”

  His brows lifted in silent challenge.

  “You’re not,” she insisted with a smile. “You’re fierce and in a dark mood, but not rough. And I wasn’t trolling for any kind of ride. I came in here for a drink with friends and
had every intention of leaving here all by myself.”

  She pointed across the room to where three of the small tables had been shoved together to make a grouping for a party of a half-dozen people. The men offered toasts to Raze, lifting their beers high. The women giggled and bent their heads together, speaking intimately. Their good-humored nervous response to him almost made him smile.

  “Am I a bet, then?” he asked. “What do you win for having the courage to hit on me?”

  “Hopefully, a night with you.” Kim took another drink, taking the time to absorb the taste of the wine before swallowing. No liquid courage for her. “I was sitting over there, minding my own business, having a reasonably good time. Then I felt a tingle on the back of my neck. I turned around and there you were. I was just going to admire you from afar, but then I saw you were trolling and figured why not me? Plus, I really needed to admire you up close.”

  “You’re out of my league.” But he was beginning to think that wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

  She grinned, which belied her hands-off appearance and made her sweetly approachable. “So earn me. I won’t mind the effort, I assure you.”

  “The effort I expend will likely leave you hobbled in the morning,” he said harshly. “You have no idea what I need to get through tonight.”

  Kim studied him for a long moment, taking a deep breath and then another. Something swept over her delicately beautiful features, something warm that briefly touched the chill in his gut. “I’m not into pain. If that’s what you need, then you’re right, I’m not your girl. But I don’t think that’s what you’re warning me about. You don’t want to hurt me; you just don’t want to hold back. And that’s what I need, Raze—a man who doesn’t hold back. That’s what kind of mood I’m in.”

  Now it was his turn to study her. “Why?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No.” Raze dug in his back pocket for his wallet and laid out a hundred dollar bill for Sam. “Let’s go.”