Guild Hunter 01 - Angels' Blood

away from Raphael.
    She would’ve struggled but she knew it was pointless. There were too many of them and she had no chip-embedded weapons on her. Bearing unique serial numbers and with each and every use tracked by the VPA and Guild both, the devices were issued only for hunts, or when a hunter’s life was in demonstrable danger from a vampiric threat. The official line was that it was to stop hunters from becoming dangerously overconfident, but they all knew it was because the powerful vamps didn’t like the idea of being vulnerable to any old hunter with a grudge. Right now, she didn’t care. “Help him!”
    Dmitri threw her a glance filled with pure malice. “Be quiet. The sole reason you’re not dead is because Raphael will enjoy doing the task himself.” Lifting a hand, he spoke into some kind of a transmitter snapped around his wrist. “Enter.”
    Two large angelic males suddenly appeared in the open wall that had been her window, a stretcher held between them. The shock on their faces when they saw Raphael told her this was worse than bad. Her stomach shriveled in on itself, but the angels recovered quickly, following Dmitri’s instructions to put Raphael on the stretcher and fly him to the Tower.
    One of the angels—a redhead, balked. “Wouldn’t it be better to take him straight home?”
    “The healer and medics are about to reach the Tower,” Dmitri responded.
    Nodding, the angel picked up the front of the stretcher as his partner followed suit on the other end. “See you there.”
    Elena wasn’t exactly sure about the power dynamics in the room. The hierarchy of the world was supposed to go archangel-angel-vampire-human, in that order. But Dmitri was clearly running the show here—and unlike with the baby angel who’d made the drop at her apartment, these angels were old and powerful.
    Now, with Raphael gone, Dmitri’s attention shifted to her. As he walked closer, she cursed the stupid policy on chip-embedded weapons. Without them, she was as vulnerable as a child.
    And Dmitri looked ready to tear her apart with his bare hands.
    Walking until he stood only inches from her, he gripped her chin, his hands bloody, his gaze black with a heart of flame.
    She gasped. “Your eyes—” There was a spiking circle of red where the pupil should’ve been, a spreading stain with bladelike edges. “What the hell?”
    His hand tightened. Then he leaned closer. She froze. If he tried to take blood, she knew she wouldn’t be able to remain quiet—instinct would take over and she’d try to go for her weapons. It wasn’t something she could stop. But Dmitri surprised her again. His lips brushed her ear instead of her neck. “I’m going to watch him break you. And then I’ll lick up your blood for dessert.”
    Fear—raw and brutal—bloomed in the pit of her stomach, but she faced him with studied nonchalance. “How’s your neck?”
    His fingers tightened hard enough that she knew she was going to have bruises. “In my time, women knew their place.”
    She didn’t ask, wouldn’t fall for that trick.
    But it turned out Dmitri didn’t need her cooperation. “Flat on their back, legs spread.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “Raphael hasn’t rescinded his hands-off policy, so I’d watch it if I were you.”
    He laughed and the sound was a razor slicing over her skin. His fingers gentled, cupped her cheek, and he came even closer, until she was pressed between muscled vampire flesh. But it was only Dmitri she truly “saw”—his lethal rage, his eyes . . . his scent. It wrapped around her like the most obscenely luscious of coats, tasting of fur and diamonds and sex. “I hope he keeps you alive for a long, long time.” His tongue flicked over the thudding beat of her pulse. “I hope he invites me to play.”

19
     
    An hour later, Elena tugged at the restraints locking her arms to the chair. All she succeeded in doing was tightening the ropes around her ankles. Hog-tied. She was hog-tied! Her arms had been wrenched behind her back and tied, then the rope run down to wrap securely around one ankle, before crossing over to her other ankle. The final touch had been to take the rope back up to her wrists and around her waist to the back. She was effectively chained to a heavy chair that she had no hope of tipping over.
    “I can smell blood, Elena,” Dmitri drawled, walking back into the room. “Are you trying to flirt?”
    She glared at him, recalling exactly how much fun he’d had