Guild Hunter 01 - Angels' Blood

breaths. Hot, deeply sexual.
    Raphael entered the bedroom and pinned Ransom to the wall with a single hand around his throat before the hunter could say a word. But Ransom reacted fast, snapping out with his legs and screaming, “Get out, Nyree! Run, baby!”
    Nyree?
    Something hit Raphael’s back. He looked over his shoulder to find a small, curvy female pelting him with whatever object came to hand. When her fingers closed around a heavy paperweight, he flicked a finger and sent her to sleep. She collapsed slowly into the sofa.
    The hunter stilled. “If you’ve hurt her, I don’t care what I have to do—I will find a way to kill you.”
    “You can’t,” he responded, but let the man go. “She’s sleeping, nothing more. It’ll allow for an easier conversation.”
    Ransom’s knife hand was suddenly slashing toward Raphael’s wings. He actually grazed the feathers before Raphael locked his mind, forcing him to drop the blade. Sweat broke out on the other man’s brow as he fought the compulsion.
    “Interesting. You’re very strong.” Raphael considered this. He could kill the man, but then the Guild would lose one of its finest hunters. “It’s not in my best interest to kill you. Don’t try to attack me and you’ll live.”
    “Fuck you,” Ransom said, attempting to move forward. “I won’t tell you where Ellie is.”
    “Yes, you will.” He focused his abilities without remorse, without anything but cold purpose. “Where is she?”
    Ransom smiled. “I don’t know.”
    Raphael stared at the other man, knowing it to be the truth—no one could lie under compulsion. There were rumors of humans who had some kind of immunity to angelic powers, as a number of them had to vampiric ones, but Raphael had never met one—not in the fifteen centuries of his existence. “Where would she hide if she was trying to protect her friends?” he asked instead.
    He could see Ransom fighting not to answer, but the compulsion won. “She wouldn’t hide.”
    Raphael thought that over. “No, she wouldn’t, would she?” He walked to the front door. “Your lady will wake in a few minutes.”
    Ransom coughed as Raphael set his mind free. “I owe you a punch to the jaw. Maybe a black eye or six, too.”
    “You’re welcome to collect,” Raphael said, seeing in this hunter another possible diversion from the jaded edge of immortality. “I won’t even punish you if you succeed.”
    The hunter, now crouching by his woman, raised an eyebrow. “Sure you’ll be around for me to hunt? Ellie’s probably waiting, carving knife in hand.”
    “I may indulge my toys,” Raphael said, “but only so far.”
    “What the fuck did she do, anyway?” Ransom asked and Raphael saw the delaying gesture for what it was—the hunter was trying to give his friend as much time as he could.
    You must kill her.
    Lijuan’s voice was a cool whisper in his mind, as pitiless as the winds of Quiet. “That is between me and Elena,” he said. “You’d do well to stay out of this war.”
    Ransom’s face turned stony. “I don’t know how angels do it, but out here, we stick by our friends. She calls, I’ll answer.”
    “And you’ll die,” Raphael replied. “I don’t share that which is mine.”
     
     
    According to Elena’s watch, she’d been sitting on her sofa staring out at the Tower for close to an hour. Maybe her choice of location wasn’t as obvious as she’d thought. She frowned and tugged at the T-shirt she’d changed into after her arrival. That was when her cell phone rang. Pulse rocketing as she recognized the personalized ring tone, she pulled it out and put it to her ear. “Ransom? Oh, my God, he got to you!”
    “Calm down,” Ransom replied. “I’m fine.”
    “Your voice sounds a little husky.”
    “He’s a strong motherfu—Sorry, babe.”
    Elena frowned. “Huh?”
    “Nyree,” he explained. “She thinks I swear too much. Of course, she just swore a blue streak when she woke up from the nap your boyfriend put her in during our conversation.”
    “Did he hurt you?”
    “I’m insulted—I can handle myself.”
    Relief washed through her. “Yeah, yeah. So?”
    “So the big, bad, and able-to-mind-control angel thinks you’re his. As in ‘I don’t share my woman.’ ”
    Elena swallowed. “You’re messing with me.”
    A bark of laughter. “Hell, no. This is way too interesting as it is.”
    “Oh, Jesus.” She bent over and stared at the carpet, trying to think. Yes, she’d kissed