Venom looked at her small, sleek, perfect form. And wanted to bite her in ways that had nothing to do with survival. “Turn around.”

When she did, he nodded. “Blood’s gone.” Droplets would’ve sunk into the waistband of her jeans, but that wasn’t something they could deal with right now.

“How much got onto your jacket?” he asked after she’d pulled on the clean tee.

It turned out that the inner lining of her jacket was waterproof, and they were able to wipe it clean using the already damp top. Close as they were, the scent of her curled around him like the kitten he called her. He wanted to tumble her into his arms and explore her, find out if the passionate, fascinated, protective pull he felt toward her had become that most precious of things: home.

But first, he had to get her to safety.

Taking the bloody top they’d used as a rag, he said, “I’ll be back in five. Anything dangerous appears, poison it with those baby fangs.”

The sound of her snarl stayed with him as he faded into the trees, his destination the waterway he’d glimpsed not long before he’d stopped. There. A small stream tumbling over rocks. The large gray wolf standing on the other side was no surprise, not in this region. Its eyes gleamed at Venom as Venom washed out the top; it’d get rid of the concentrated smell of wet iron. Vampires had good noses, but they weren’t bloodhounds. This should keep a vampire from using their scent trail to mount a pursuit.

It’d have been a different case if Michaela had one of the hunter-born in her employ, but the former Queen of Constantinople and current Archangel of Budapest had a strange blind spot when it came to hunters. She used the services of the Guild and, according to the hunters Venom knew, she treated the hunters in her territory with courtesy. However, she didn’t have any deeper connection with the Guild.

Then again, neither had the Tower until Raphael fell in love with a mortal hunter and the world turned upside down. Most mortals, even the strongest, stayed away from immortals. It was good for their health.

“Good hunting, my friend,” Venom said to the wolf across the way, the one who’d stayed in place but had made no aggressive moves—like recognized like, and the wolf knew Venom wasn’t prey.

He was on his way back to Holly seconds later. He found her sitting with the backpack, her jacket on but open; the green glow continued to pulse. She hadn’t taken out her pack from inside his, probably well aware she’d need all her strength just to move, but she appeared to be repacking. “I organized it so the stuff we might need first is at the top,” she said without looking up.

Venom knew he was silent when he moved. “How did you know I was here?”

A shrug. “I could feel you.”

Unconcerned about that when he’d normally be otherwise, he walked over and hunkered down to look into the pack. “Why did you put that bottle of blood near the top?” It was the unopened one. “I already drank one.”

“I don’t think it’ll stay cold and good for longer than maybe till morning, so you should have it then.” A wicked smile up at him. “Wonder what flavor it is?”

“I’m never accepting gifts from Ashwini again,” Venom muttered, but of course it was a lie. He’d take anything the seer gave him. No one called her that, but they all knew it was what she was. Ash saw things that hadn’t yet happened, and if she liked you enough to offer you a helping hand, you’d be an imbecile not to take it.

Of course, Ashwini’s motives weren’t always linear. “Has she ever told you anything?” he asked Holly as he put her damp—but clean of blood—top into a plastic bag that he then stuffed into a front pocket of the pack.

A long pause before Holly nodded. “You sure you want to know? It might make you question the nature of fate and destiny and free will.”

Venom was immediately intrigued. “Tell me.”

31

“One day,” Holly began, “after we’d sparred on the lawn at her and Janvier’s place, and I was sitting on the grass, looking down at the Hudson and feeling sad for the life I’d never have, Ashwini sat down next to me and said, ‘Holly.’”

Wild green eyes met his. “I was still Sorrow then, but that day, she called me Holly very specifically. I didn’t correct her because she had this tone in her voice that told me to be quiet and listen. And she said . . .”

“I’ve already strangled you twice,” Venom murmured with lethal silkiness, though he still wasn’t all right with what he’d done to save her from the entity inside her. “They say the third time is the charm.”

Her laughter was reckless and fearless and he wanted to drink her in until that laughter was his own. “I was focused so hard on her,” she said with a smile lingering on her lips. “My body was almost quivering to hear what she had to tell me—my future? My death? What? At last, Ash opened her mouth and said, ‘Don’t forget to learn Hindi.’”

Venom blinked. “What?”

“Uh-huh.” Her shoulders shook. “I’d have thought her completely mad, except that I’d been around Ash long enough to realize that when she says one of her weird things, you should listen. So I joined an online class.” The last sentence was spoken in the language of Venom’s homeland.

Something huge spread out inside him, a wild joyful thing without a name. “Your accent could use a little work,” he said in the same language.

“And you can’t speak Mandarin, so shut up.”

He replied in that language, saw her eyes widen. “I grew up on the Silk Road,” he reminded her. “I also spent over a hundred years in Neha’s court, and she has many courtiers who come from across the border.” Not all spoke the same dialect as Holly; he’d had to learn multiple variations—as he’d had to learn the languages favored in other parts of India. “Naasir always says he doesn’t like not knowing what secrets people are talking about. Neither do I.”

Holly’s smile was a wide-open thing of utmost delight. “My grandma made me attend Mandarin school all through my childhood. I used to get so mad because I had to spend my Saturday mornings there instead of watching cartoons.” She spoke the words in a mélange of the three languages they shared. “But as I grew older, I was glad. I can speak to her in the language she used with her own mother. And it’s something special, you know?”

Venom understood. “Janvier speaks Hindi, as does Ashwini,” he told her. “Most of the Seven have an excellent grasp of it, too. Part of it is they’re just old enough to have had the time to learn multiple languages . . .”

“But the rest is because they’re your family,” Holly said, raising her hand to brush her fingers over his cheek. “So, jaanuu, is it time to go? Also, did you know there’s a wolf behind you?”

“He’s just curious about the other predators in his territory. Don’t challenge him with eye contact, but also don’t appear weak.” Venom looked back to let the wolf know they were aware of it. “He wants to make sure we’re only passing through.”

Venom pulled on the pack and got up.

Accepting the hand he held out, Holly used it to haul herself up. “Is our safe house within a distance we can travel on foot?”

“Yes. But we might not make it before dawn.” Holly was weaker than she should be, even with his blood twining with her own. “We’ll have to camp in the forest if there’s any chance we might get caught out in the open.”

“Yes, that would suck after we successfully pulled off the stealth infiltration of an archangelic home.” Tugging the hood of her jacket on over her hair, Holly zipped up the jacket so that her face was neatly framed, her body a sleek black outline. “Let’s do it.”

They began to run, the wolf running alongside them for over an hour before it peeled off to return to its territory. Venom had kept the pace at one Holly could also maintain. She was doing better than he’d expected. Even at full strength, she wouldn’t be as fast as him—but she’d be fast enough to make it fun.

Flying over a log in their path, she turned to grin at him over her shoulder.