Guild Hunter 01 - Angels' Blood

What is it? A mutant blood-sucking rose?”
    Biting back a laugh, she stared at the indescribably lovely thing in her hand. “It’s not crystal.”
    “Cubic zirconia?” Sara asked dryly. “Oh, wait, plastic.”
    “Diamond.”
    Absolute silence.
    A cough.
    “Could you please repeat that word?”
    Elena held up the rose to catch the light. “Diamond. Flawless, one piece.”
    “That’s impossible. Do you know how big it would have to be to carve out a rose? Is it microscopic?”
    “Width of my palm.”
    “Impossible, like I said. Diamonds aren’t carved. Really, it’s impossible.” Except Sara sounded a little breathless. “The man sent you a diamond rose?”
    “He’s not a man,” Elena said, trying to stop the quintessentially female part of her from reacting in sheer delight at the wonder of the gift. “He’s an archangel. A very dangerous archangel.”
    “Who’s either besotted with you or tips his employees really well.”
    Elena laughed again. “Nah, he just wants to get in my pants.” She waited until Sara had stopped choking on the other end to continue. “I said no last night. I don’t think the archangel likes the word ‘no.’ ”
    “Ellie, my darling, please tell me you’re messing with me.” Sara’s tone was a plea. “If the archangel wants you, he will have you. And—” She cut herself off.
    “It’s okay, Sara,” Elena said softly. “If he takes me, he’ll break me.” Archangels weren’t human, weren’t close to human. When they were done with their pleasures, they cared nothing for their toys. “Which is why he’ll never have me.”
    “How do you plan to ensure he doesn’t come after you later?”
    “I’m going to make him swear an oath.”
    Sara made a hmming sound. “Okay, I have the files up. Angels take oaths seriously. As in dead seriously. But you have to word it exactly right. And it’s give-and-take. He’ll want his pound of flesh. In your case, probably literally.”
    Elena shivered, the idea no longer wholly unappealing. And it wasn’t the diamond. It was the eroticism of the night before. Dark, stroked with badness, but also the most potent sexual flirtation she’d ever experienced. Her body had sung for him and he’d barely touched her. What would happen if he drove himself inside of her, hot and hard . . . and again?
    Her cheeks flushed, her thighs pressed together, and her heart was suddenly a drumbeat in her mouth. “I’ll return the rose.” It was extraordinary, a remarkable creation, but she couldn’t keep it.
    Sara misunderstood. “That won’t be enough. You have to have something to bargain with.”
    “Leave that up to me.” Elena tried to sound confident when the truth was, she had no idea of how she was going to bargain with an archangel.
    He’ll want his pound of flesh.
    Her mind hiccuped without warning, and Sara’s words mixed with the reawakened memory of Mirabelle’s violated body. Her soul chilled. What if Raphael’s price was something worse than death?

11
     
    She put the message tube on Raphael’s desk. “I can’t accept this.”
    He lifted a finger, keeping his back to her as he stood by the windows, phone to his ear. It seemed odd to see an archangel with such a modern device, but her reaction made no logical sense—they were masters of technology, no matter that they looked like something out of fairy tale and legend.
    How much truth was in those legends, no one knew. For all that angels had been part of mankind’s history since the earliest cave paintings, they remained shrouded in mystery. Since man, as always, hated a vacuum, those of her kind had spun a thousand myths to explain the existence of angelkind. Some called them the scions of the gods, others saw them as simply a more advanced species. Only one thing was certain—they were the rulers of the world, and they knew it.
    Now His Highness kept talking in a low murmur. Irritated, she started prowling around the room. The deep shelves on the side wall caught her attention. Made of a wood that was either a true ebony or had been treated to appear that way, they displayed treasure after treasure.
    An ancient Japanese mask of an oni , a demon. But this one held an edge of mischief, as if it had been made for a children’s festival. The artwork was precise, the colors brilliant, though she felt the age of it like a heavy weight in her bones. On the shelf next to it sat a single feather.
    It was an extraordinary color—a deep, pure blue. She’d