Page 27 of His Mate By Vengeance

A polite way of saying his Angel was freaking out. Finding your mate was rare enough that it wasn’t unusual for the couple to be totally unaware. It also wasn’t unheard of for them to reject the bond. Usually because one or both had already committed to someone else or because no one wanted to feel like they had no choice in who they spent the rest of their immortal life with. All the more reason to give his Angel a courting gift, a mating gift, that would show him howspecial he was. Shifters fed their mates. Vampires wooed and seduced them.

Vin

I’ll be back soon.

Marco

I’m not going to tell him that. He needs to realise what he’s at risk of losing.

Vin

He’s MINE. He couldn’t lose me if he tried.

Marco

I wouldn’t be helping you if I thought otherwise. Hurt him and I’ll kill you.

Vin

Back at ya, Sugar. Plus a side of torture. xx

Putting his phone aside, he grabbed the computer and got to work. This shouldn’t be too complicated. He needed to tie up loose ends so he could focus all his attention on the mate he hoped he could bond with soon. Needed to complete this one last job before he placed his future, and his heart, firmly in Angelo’s paws.

The assassin community was, in some ways, every person for themselves, and in other ways, an inbred cesspit. They all knew who the major players were. They had ways to communicate with each other and their own whisper network that ensured bad operators couldn’t secure their services. For most, that just meant people who weren’t good for the cash, those who tried to get them into a bidding war to the bottom, or those who lied about the risks involved.

For him, it had also been a way to stick to his own personal ethics. He used the network of contacts to get the background he needed on his clients. Occasionally, if the ethics were unclear rather than abhorrent, he would simply pass the job on to a colleague. His willingness to give up a payday garnered him brownie points despite the fact many of his ‘colleagues’ hated that he had first pick of most jobs because he was the best. Always had been.

So, it didn’t raise any red flags when he reached out to someone else in the business with a message?—

Vin

Need to lie low for a few weeks. Can you take over a job for me? Top dollar client. Wants a clean shot in public to scare his rivals.

The assassin he’d contacted took three days to respond. It wasn’t surprising. There was never a shortage of work and sniper shots were low-risk, lower-reward bread and butter. Not as exciting for those whose tastes were more bloodthirsty and not as big a return compared to the more complicated and specific requests. Even though he was burning with impatience, he waited another day before transferring the money and sending through the details of when and where. It never paid to appear too desperate. He didn’t want to make the guy gun-shy.

As he waited, Vin wondered what his Angel would think of how transactional death was to people like him. He could guess. Angel was a different kind of man to him. A better man. Vin knew the pack—and Marco—could use his skills. But if it made his Angel upset, he’d just have to find a new occupation. Maybe he could go into public relations and murder people’s reputations instead. The pack could do with a cleaner image, and the public definitely needed to see just how dirty Kyan’s coven really was.

With everything in place, he was free to get some rest before the fun started the next day. He couldn’t help screwing up his face as he lay down in the cold sheets of his cash-only, no-questions-asked motel bed all alone. His body was naturally cooler than a shifter’s or a human’s, but the temperature had never bothered him before. Now that his Angel had held him against the heat of his body, though, he never wanted to sleep without that warmth again. Just thinking of his mate made his cock achingly swollen, and he wrapped his fist around it and pumped a few times as pre-cum leaked down his shaft. It was an exercise in futility. The past few days had taught him that jerking off would do nothing for his frustration. He’d be just as desperate once he finished. He couldn’thelp but be a little pissed off at his shifter for forcing them apart and it brought out the worst in him.

Pulling out his phone, he took a photo of his taught, naked body and texted it to the man he couldn’t get out of his thoughts. He almost put a message alongside it. Almost told Angel that he missed him. That he couldn’t live without him. That Vin’s body was his forever, if he’d just fucking claim it.

Instead, he forced himself to channel the ruthlessly sexual self he usually showed to the world. Even if it killed him a little inside to stay silent. Marco was right. His Angel needed to realise what he was missing. The photo would remind him. He hoped. And his present would make his Angel see how much Vin cared—enough to burn his bridges and kiss his old life goodbye.

The next morning, he dressed with a smile in an outfit he hadn’t realised would be so significant when he’d packed it into his spare bag years ago. It was fate that it would drive his Angel wild. Blood-red lace panties, ankle boots with a stiletto heel sharp enough to kill, black leather pants that were painted on, and an elaborate leather harness that had just enough structure to it to pass as a shirt... almost. The outfit had a wealth of straps and hidden pockets that allowed him to carry a small arsenal with him and, per usual, his wrists were lined with leather bracelets that concealed the garottes he was so famous for using. He didn’t have a calling card, preferring to leave his kills more of a mystery. But if he did, it would be the delicious slice of piano cable through a neck until the blood gushed down their skin in rivulets he could lick from a body as it twitched with its death throes.

His final mark before he committed to reform to whatever his Angel and his future pack needed was almost too easy. A disappointment even. The vampire was exactly where he was supposed to be. The only place he could be. There was the usual danger in how to approach him without arousing hissuspicion, and if Vin wasn’t as skilled, perhaps he would’ve taken a few shots to the chest. Even if he had, it would’ve been nothing compared to the pain of his Angel sending him away.

When his fangs sank into the vampire’s neck and his paralysing, torturous venom took hold of his mark’s body, he thought it would be more satisfying. Instead, he just felt nauseous and dirty at letting the mark’s tainted blood pass his lips. He compared the sick metallic taste to his mate’s liquid sunshine, and it couldn’t compete. Would all other blood taste like dust on his tongue now? Part of him hoped he would never find out. That he could feed only on his mate for the rest of their existence. He didn’t need to feed often. Only once or twice a week. Especially if it was straight from a supernatural’s veins. His mate could sustain him. That was wishful thinking, though. Chances were slim that Angelo would ever consent again when he hated vampire kind so much. He couldn’t afford to expect anything other than the coldest of shoulders from his burning bright shifter.

Tossing the rigid, paralysed vampire over his shoulder, he carried him to the car he’d requisitioned and threw him a little harder than necessary into the trunk. Everything in him screamed at him to take his pain out on the vampire. To rend his flesh and twist his mind until he was sobbing in fear and screaming in agony. To make him feel even a fraction of the despair Vin felt when he thought of a life without his Angel. To make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused his victims over his immortal lifetime.

He didn’t have that freedom. He had a job to do. And as dulcet as the melody of his tortured screams would be, he had to have patience. This vampire was not his to bring to his knees. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun, though.

As the vampire’s eyes stared wide and unblinking at him,frozen by his venom, Vin grabbed the roll of razor wire he’d packed in the backseat.

“Sorry, Sugar. Ran out of rope. You understand,” he said.

And then he trussed him up so thoroughly it was a thing of beauty. Steel and blood painted ribbons across his skin, hugging each of the most vulnerable points of his body. Blades nestled into the hollow beneath his ear, hovered a hair’s-breadth above his eyeball, pushed tight against his shrivelled balls.

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