Page 57 of Archangel’s Lineage

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The full moon was high in the sky when Vivek got out of his favorite taxi in front of one of the gates into Central Park. This time Hakim just shook his head. “You gonna gimme your next of kin, boss? So I can inform those good folks that your foolish skinny ass walked into your death, never to be seen again?”

Vivek grinned. “I’m one of the monsters, remember?”

But Hakim was having none of it. “Naw. You one of the soft bellies. Well, your funeral, boss. Make sure I get an invite.”

Vivek was still scowling at being called a soft belly when, leaning hard on his cane, he entered the lush green alleyway that would lead him to the spot Katrina had chosen as the location of their meeting. The murmuring void that was the night was full of eyes that watched him. Because Hakim was right in one sense—at midnight, Central Park was full of predators, mortal and not.

None of those predators, however, prowled up to him with nefarious intent. Neither did anyone slither out to make an indecent proposal. Because vampires got off on illicit nighttime assignations just like mortals. He figured angels, too. They just had the advantage of being able to meet in the sky or on rooftops far from prying eyes.

As for why no one approached him with sexual intent, a large number were probably wondering what the hell a Tower vamp was doing here—and worried he was about to bust them for something. The rest were likely turned off by his visible disability. A certain class of vampires bought into the whole “vampirism leads to physical perfection” spiel, and he was a walking slap in their conceited faces.

Vivek could’ve raged about that, but he’d lived too long in this body to be bothered by random assholes. Vamp or not, they all sang the same pathetic and unoriginal tune. Not worth the waste of energy. The pettiness in him did find it funny that his mere existence messed with their worldview. Factor in his attachment to the Tower, and wowee, he’d probably caused more than one rage stroke.

He smiled.

A stir in the night ahead of him, a woman in darkest red stepping out of the shadows. Her gown featured a wide, flowing skirt but was fitted to emphasize her tiny waist and curving hips, the creamy flesh of her breasts plumping up over the curve of the neckline. The hat that sat jauntily on her head was the same hue but festooned with black ribbon and a spray of black blooms on one side.

A small black fan hung from one wrist. Diamonds twinkled in her ears.

Pushing up the strap of the messenger bag he carried on one shoulder, Vivek spoke past his thudding heart. “Lady Katrina. We do meet in the most interesting places.”

She waited until he was next to her before turning so that they walked side by side. He could almost hear the watchers skittering away.

“I’ve always enjoyed this park in the night hours.” Katrina’s husky voice stroked over him with near-tactile intent. “It is both active and secretive.”

Having not spotted Xai, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re not worried about being attacked?”

Her laughter entangled him in a sensuous trap. “No one touches Lady Katrina.”

He realized he still had no idea of her age or her power. But the fact that she could walk here at this time without being molested? Yes, this woman was dangerous, a predator among predators.

Now, she glanced at his cane then up at his eyes. “It causes you pain to walk.”

Vivek shrugged. “My choice.”

“But it is not my choice to have to deal with you should you collapse from overexertion.” A regal tone. “We will take a seat on that bench over there.” She flicked her fan at one of the ironwork seats tucked into a small green corner.

Vivek gritted his teeth. “I’m not a child to be ordered about.”

An unblinking look that was in no way human, the creature that prowled behind Katrina’s eyes a thing cold and of age. “If you wish to stand here until your leg buckles, go ahead. I will walk over your helpless body and return to my business.”

His face hot, Vivek bit back his anger. This wasn’t about him. It wasn’t even about the Cadre. No, it was about the dead and dying. About the countless children trapped in rubble or underground as the world went to hell—as he’d once been trapped in a hospital bed.

He took a seat.

When she followed, her skirts brushed his legs.

Shrugging the bag off his shoulder after he took several breaths to calm his temper, he opened it, reached inside. Rage would get him nowhere, not with a vampire of Katrina’s age and power. She’d have seen that uncontrolled reaction over and over through time. He had to be smarter, more cunning.

“Why are you carrying champagne flutes?” Her tone was arch.

“So we can drink this.” He pulled out a black bottle marked with a distinctive label of embossed black on black. “From the premier blood café in town. In honor of your find.”

“We did not have such things in my time. Blood from the vein was considered good enough.”

Unable to control the reckless edge within, Vivek flipped his hand to expose his wrist. “Anytime, Lady Katrina.”

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