“He wanted to give me a blade? What's wrong with that?”“Blades,” he whispered, “and sheaths go together. And your sheath will only ever hold my blade.”

“A naked blade sheathed in velvet, that was Raphael's voice.”

“Illium seems far too pretty to be dangerous.” Dmitri’s male beauty, by contrast, was a darker, edgier thing.“No one ever expects him to take out a blade and slice off their balls,” he said with lethal amusement in his tone as he drove them toward the GeorgeWashington Bridge. “He does it with such grace, too.”

“Illium, his expression subdued as it had been for too many days, turned to her. “Mind if I have a go?”“Kick his ass.”Stripping off his shirt and boots, Illium held out his hand for one of Venom’s blades. Lips curving, Venom passed it over. “Sure you can handle me, pretty, pretty Bluebell?”“Did I ever tell you about my snakeskin boots?” A savage grin, and she knew Venom was about to bear the brunt of whatever haunted the blue-winged angel.Venom swirled his blade in hand. “I do think I need some new feathers for my pillow.”

“He has a fascination with mortals.Raphael had said that to her before she'd woken with wings of midnight and dawn."Why are you starting at me, Ellie?" Illium said without taking his eyes from the blade dancing around his fingers.The words were instinctive, something she might as easily have said to rib Ransom. "You're so pretty, it's difficult to resist."A flashing grin, a hint of that aristocratic English accent in his response. "It's hard to be me, it's true.”

“Fine. But remember, little rabbit, not a word to anyone." He moved close enough that the dark heat of him lapped against her in a quiet threat that made her glad for the blade. "I'm not a nice man when I'm angry." She held her position, a ragged attempt to erase the humiliation of the panic attack. "I'm fairly certain you're not a nice man at all." His answer was a slow smile that whispered of silk sheets, erotic whispers, and sweat-damp skin. The unhidden intent of it had her heart slamming hard against her ribs. "No" she said. Voice raw. "A challenge.” He wasn't touching her and yet she felt caressed by a thousand ropes of fur, soft and lush and unmistakably sexual. "I accept”

“What about your freedom?" he whispered in her ear over a minute later, bracing his hands palms down on the wall beside her head. He made no move to stop her as she stroked and petted every inch of that sinfully gorgeous chest, all hard muscle and gleaming skin overlaid with silky-rough strands of dark hair. "Idiot." She nipped his jaw with her teeth. "The only freedom I ever wanted was the right to love you.”