Angel's Blood (Guild Hunter #1)

Angel's Blood (Guild Hunter #1) Page 21

Dmitri's expression held pure relief. "Sire?"

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice strong. Anshara had done its work. But he'd have to pay the price it demanded soon.

"Dawn," Dmitri answered in the old way. "Light is just touching the horizon."

Raphael got out of bed and flexed his wing. "The hunter?"

"Bound in another room."

The wing was back to normal except for one thing. He looked down at the inner pattern. The smooth brushstrokes of gold had been interrupted at the point where Elena's bullet had torn through. Now the bottom half of that wing bore a unique pattern in gold on white-an explosion from a central point. He smiled. So, he would carry the mark of Elena's burst of violence.

"Sire?" Dmitri's voice was questioning as he noted the smile.

Raphael continued to look down at the wing, at the mark caused by the Quiet. It would serve as a useful reminder. "Did you hurt her, Dmitri?" He glanced at his second, noting the disheveled hair, the wrinkled clothing.

"No." The vampire's lips curved upward in a feral smile. "I thought you'd enjoy that pleasure."

Raphael touched Elena's mind. She was asleep, exhausted from a night spent attempting to break her bonds. "This is a battle between me and the hunter. No one else will interfere. Take care the others know that."

Dmitri couldn't hide his surprise. "You won't punish her? Why?"

Raphael answered to no one, but Dmitri had been with him longer than any other. "Because I took the first shot. And she is mortal."

The vampire's expression remained unconvinced. "I like Elena, but if she escapes punishment, others might question your power."

"Make sure they understand that Elena occupies a very special place in the scheme of things. Anyone else who dares challenge me will soon wish I'd shown them the same mercy I showed Germaine."

Dmitri's face paled. "May I ask one question?"

He waited in silent permission.

"Why were you so badly injured?" Dmitri pulled out a gun he'd had tucked into the small of his back. "I checked the bullet she used-it should've only caused minor damage, given her a head start of ten minutes at most."

Then she will kill you. She will make you mortal.

"I needed to be injured," he responded obliquely. "It was the answer to a question."

Dmitri looked frustrated. "Can it happen again?"

"I'll make sure it doesn't." He took pity on the leader of his Seven. "Do not worry, Dmitri-you won't have to watch the city shudder under the rule of another archangel. Not for another eternity."

"I've seen what they can do." The vampire's eyes swirled with the rivers of memory. "I was under Neha's tender mercies for a hundred years. Why didn't you stop me when I rebelled against your authority?"

"You were two hundred years old," Raphael pointed out, heading toward the bathroom. "Old enough to choose."

Dmitri snorted. "Old enough to be cocky with no real knowledge to back it up. A damn pup with delusions of grandeur." A pause. "Have you never wondered-if I'm a spy?"

"If I had, you'd be dead."

Dmitri smiled and there was a loyalty in his eyes that surprised Raphael each time he saw it. The vampire was incredibly powerful, could've set up a stronghold of his own, but he chose to give his life over to an archangel. "Now I will ask you a question, Dmitri."

"Sire."

"Why do you think I intend to spare Elena's life?"

"You need her to track Uram," Dmitri responded. "And . . . there is something about her that fascinates you. Not much fascinates an immortal."

"Feeling the stirrings of ennui?"

"I see its edge on the horizon-how do you fight it?"

Raphael wasn't sure he had been fighting it. "As you say, very little fascinates an immortal."

"Ah." Dmitri's smile turned sexual in the way of vampires. "So you must savor that which fascinates."

Elena woke when her bladder protested. It was a good thing hunters were trained to restrain their natural urges in such circumstances-some hunts involved hours upon hours of immobile watchfulness. Still, it wasn't comfortable.

I will send Dmitri.

Her face went so hot, it felt like she had third-degree burns. "Do you always spy on people?" It was tempting, but she didn't try to use that headache-inducing shield thing she seemed to have developed. Better to save that for when he was really messing with her.

No. Most people aren't very interesting.

The arrogance of the answer was stunning . . . and welcome. This was the archangel she knew. "I'm not letting that vampire escort me to the bathroom. He'll probably try to bite me."

Wait for me, then.

That just made her want to scream. "Get him to untie me. I can hardly make a daring escape with you up and around."

I don't think Dmitri trusts you with your hands and feet unbound.

She was about to tell him exactly what she thought of that when the door opened to admit the vampire in question. He looked like he'd been up all night, his shirt rumpled, his previously neat hair messy. It only made him look lusciously sexy. "Do vampires sleep?"

He gave her a startled look. "You're a vampire hunter. Don't you know?"

"I mean I know you sleep, but do you really need it?" She stayed very still as he went behind her. "Dmitri?"

Cool fingers brushing her hair out of the way to bare her nape. Knuckles running along skin. "We can go without sleep for longer than humans, but yes, we need it."

"Stop that," she muttered when he continued to stroke her with his knuckles. "I'm not in the mood."

"That sounds promising." His breath whispered against her nape, a dangerous place for a vampire with cool hands. It meant he hadn't fed. "What can I do to get you in the mood?"

"Untie me and let me use the bathroom."

He chuckled and then she felt a tug on her wrists. The bonds fell magically away. "How the hell?"

"I learned rope bondage from a true adept," he murmured, playing with strands of her hair as she released herself from the ropes.

She would've snapped at him to stop it but he wasn't hurting her and now that Raphael was awake, she had a feeling it wasn't Dmitri who posed the real danger. "Bathroom?" She jumped to her feet as soon as the ropes were undone, then moaned. "My muscles. Why the hell did you have to tie me up so hard?" She threw him an evil look.

"Maybe I was getting my own back." He rubbed a hand across his throat.

"I thought you liked pain."

A dark smile, filled with whispers of badness that would hurt oh so good. "But you didn't stay to play."

She sniffed the air suspiciously. No scent. He was just being his usual self. And gorgeous as he was, he didn't make her stupid with lust. Maybe a touch affected, but what woman wouldn't be? "For the last time, where's the-" She followed the direction of his raised hand toward a small door. "Thanks."

Once inside, she frowned and tried to use that "shield" that might turn out to be nothing but her imagination running wild. There was no way she wanted Raphael in her head at that moment. Ten minutes later, she'd used the facilities, washed her face, brushed her teeth using one of the disposable toothbrushes under the sink, and combed her hair using the dinky disposable brush. There was even a small white hair-tie included in the pack, which she used to pull her hair up into a ponytail, her own hair-tie having being lost God only knew when.

Looking in the mirror, she decided she'd do. The thin cuts on her face were barely noticeable and though her palms were a little tender, they wouldn't limit her range of movement. As for clothes-her fatigue-green T-shirt looked okay and her black cargo pants weren't too badly wrinkled. It was as good an outfit to die in as any. Not that she was going to make it easy for the archangel. That thought in mind, she quickly disassembled one of the disposable razors, intending to get to the blade.

"Fuck!"

"Did you find the razors, Elena?" came Dmitri's voice from the other side. "You wound me with your estimation of my IQ."

She threw the plastic in the trash. That vampire had somehow managed to remove the blade without destroying the razor as a whole. "Very funny." Opening the door, she walked out.

Dmitri stood on the opposite side of the room, his hand on the doorknob. "Raphael wants to see you." Gone was any hint of friendliness.

"I'm ready."

That seemed to amuse him. "Are you?"

"How about a knife at least?" she bargained. "Make it a fair fight?"

He opened the door. "If it comes down to it, there will be no fight. But for some reason, I don't think Raphael plans to kill you."

That's what Elena was afraid of. "Where are we going?"

"To the roof."

Elena tried to remain calm as they made their way to the elevators and shot up. But there was no way she could forget the last time she'd gone up to the roof. Her hand clenched, remembering the ruthless ease with which Raphael had illustrated his control over her. Why the hell did she keep forgetting the reality of his nature?

Even as she thought that, she kept her mind tightly focused, thinking "closed" thoughts.

The doors opened to reveal the glass cage atop the roof . . . and deja vu smashed into her full force. A table set with a white tablecloth, croissants, grapefruit, juice, and coffee sat in solitary splendor on that beautiful roof. The only difference was, this time, Raphael stood with his back to her on the farthest edge.

Forgetting all about Dmitri, she stepped out of the elevator and headed toward the exit. The elevator doors closed behind her, but she was barely aware of its-and Dmitri's-departure, her focus on the wings of an archangel she'd last seen bleeding out on her apartment floor. "Raphael," she said as soon as she exited the glass cage.

He turned slightly and she took it as an invitation to go to him-she had to see for herself that the damage had been healed. His wings appeared perfect from a distance and it was only as she got closer that she saw the startling change. "It's as if you grew the pattern of the gunshot."

He raised the wing so she could see the full scope of it. "I thought it was isolated to the underside, but it's both."

She stood, stunned. It was a scar but it was the most amazing scar she'd ever seen. "You do realize this makes your wings even more unique." Even more inhuman in their beauty.

The wing lowered. "Are you saying you shot me as a cosmetic procedure?"

She could gauge nothing from the tone of his voice. Wary, she walked to stand beside him-but with several feet of distance between them.

He spoke again before she could, his eyes on her face. "You're hurt."

"Just surface cuts." She showed him her palms. "They hardly even sting."

"You were lucky."

"Yeah." The glass had been thick, less sharp than if she'd broken a dish. "So?"

His eyes shaded in that incredible way, until they were close to black. "Things have changed. There's no more time for play."

"You call threatening to throw me to my death, play?"

"I didn't threaten you, Elena."

She narrowed her eyes. "You were holding me over a very dark, very open space."

His hair lifted off his face as the wind pushed inward. "But you survived. And I just spent a considerable amount of energy patching myself up."

"Sorry." She folded her arms, scowling, defensive. "What's the punishment?"

"Will you take it meekly?" His wings stretched out behind him, spreading to cover the space behind her as well.

"Not a chance," she muttered. "I haven't forgotten what triggered this whole incident."

"It doesn't excite me to take an unwilling woman."

Caught by surprise, she dropped her arms. "Are you saying you didn't do it on purpose?"

"It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you did enough damage that I need to . . . refuel."

A hint of unease crawled up her spine. "What's that supposed to mean? Do you need rest?"

"No. I need an infusion of energy."

"Like a vampire needs blood?"

"If you like."

She frowned. "I didn't know angels needed that sort of thing."

"It happens rarely." Folding back his wings, he came closer. "It takes a lot for the well to run this close to dry."

He was right next to her now and she didn't know how that had happened. No, that was lying to herself. He was close because she'd let him get close. "You scared me last night."

Those dark, dark blue eyes reflected open surprise. "Do I not scare you usually?"

"Not like that." She couldn't help it, she reached out a hand to touch his wing before her neurons shrieked a warning and she wrenched it back. No one touched an angel's wings without permission. "Sorry."

He spread out the "scarred" wing. "Do you need to convince yourself that it's real, not an illusion?"

Not caring that it amused him, she ran her fingers over the part of the wing she'd destroyed. The sensation was . . . "So soft," she murmured, and yet she could feel considerable muscle and strength behind it. The warm vitality of it was a living pulse that beckoned her to continue stroking. When she lifted away her hands, reluctant to stop but knowing she had to, the tips of her fingers glittered. "Angel dust."

"Taste it."

She looked up, vividly conscious of the wings closing around her. "Taste?"

"Why do you think humans pay a fortune for it?"

"I thought it was a status thing-you know, look at my vial of angel dust, it's bigger than yours." She stared at the brilliant sparkles coating the tips of her fingers. "It tastes good?"

"Some call it a drug."

She froze with her index finger close to her lips. "As in befuddle my mind?"

"No, it has no narcotic or other effect on the brain. It's simply the taste."

She met those beautiful, dangerous eyes and knew he could tempt her into hell itself. "Maybe this is your revenge?" Flicking out her tongue, she took a careful taste.

Ambrosia.

A shudder vibrated through her body, her toes curled, and she almost purred. "Wow, orgasm on a stick." And a good orgasm at that. "You go around shedding this stuff?" A tendril of jealousy snaked its way up her body. She crushed it, telling herself she was going to add Big in front of her Idiot tattoo. "Guess it's a power trip to see mortals scrambling for it."

His lips curved. "Oh, this is a special blend for you." Taking one of the fingers she hadn't licked, he rubbed it along her lips. "What we usually shed is apparently comparable to the most delicious of chocolates or the finest of wines. Decadent, rich, and very expensive."

She told herself she wasn't going to lick the glitter off her lips. "And this blend?" The taste was inside her mouth without her having any knowledge of taking it in. And Raphael was incredibly close, his wings creating a white gold wall around them, his hands strong and warm on her hips. "What's so special about it?"

"This blend," he murmured, bending his head, "is about sex."

She put her hands on his chest but it wasn't a protest. After the blood, the fear, she needed to touch him, to know this glorious creature existed. "Another form of mind control?"

He shook his head, his mouth a hairbreadth from hers. "It is only fair."

"Fair?" She flicked her tongue along his lower lip. It made his hands clench on her hips.

"If I licked you between your thighs, your taste would have the same aphrodisiac effect on me."