Guild Hunter 01 - Angels' Blood

for a good vantage point.
    The door opened before she got there. This time, the vamp was of the ordinary variety. Experienced but not old, not like the driver and Dmitri. “If you’d please follow me,” he said.
    She blinked at the plummy British tone. “You sound like a butler.”
    “I am a butler, madam.”
    Elena didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but a butler was not it. She followed in silence as he led her through a wash of brilliant colors—sunshine coming in through the stained glass she’d guessed at—to a pair of carved wooden doors. “The sire awaits you in the library. Would you care for a cup of coffee or tea?”
    “Wow, I want a butler, too.” She bit her lower lip. “Would it be too much trouble to ask for a snack? I’m starving.” Throwing up was hell on a girl’s appetite.
    The butler’s expression didn’t change, but she could’ve sworn he was amused. “Preparations have been made for a cold lunch. It’ll be served in the library.”
    “Then some coffee would be great. Thanks.”
    “Of course, madam.” He went to open the library doors. “I can take your bag to your room if you wish.”
    “Then I wish.” Still musing over the idea of having met a real live butler, she handed the bag to him and walked inside. Raphael was standing by the huge windows on the right-hand side, backlit by sunshine. His wings glittered gold and white and it was such an arresting sight that she almost missed the second person in the room.
    The woman stood by the mantel, wings of bronze, eyes too green to be mortal, and skin of such a beautiful dusky shade it was as if gold had been pounded into bronze and then mixed with cream. Her hair was a curly mass of brown and gold that reached the curve of her butt. A butt displayed very nicely in the catsuit currently painted over her body. A shimmery bronze, the garment zipped up the front and left her arms bare. Right now, it was unzipped just enough to hint at the perfect globes of her breasts.
    “So, this is the hunter you find so fascinating.” The voice was smooth whiskey, honey and cream, sensual and full of venom.
    Elena shrugged. “I’d say it’s more a case of finding me useful.”
    The female archangel raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t anybody ever teach you not to interrupt your betters?” Astonishment in every word.
    “Why, yes, they did.” She let her tone say the rest.
    The archangel flicked out a hand and that was when Raphael spoke. “Michaela.”
    Michaela dropped her hand. “You allow the human too much freedom.”
    “Be that as it may, the Guild Hunter is under my protection for the duration of the hunt.”
    Michaela’s smile was sweet poison. “Pity Uram is so creative, otherwise I would’ve enjoyed teaching you your place.”
    “I’m not the one he’s courting with gifts of human hearts.”
    That wiped the smile off Michaela’s face. She straightened, her skin beginning to glow. “I look forward to eating your heart when it’s delivered.”
    “Enough.” Raphael was suddenly in front of Elena, blocking her from Michaela’s rage.
    She wasn’t stupid enough to repudiate the gesture. She stayed behind him quite happily, using the time to rearrange her weapons to maximum advantage. Including the small gun she’d found hidden under her pillow. It was identical to the one Vivek had given her. Sara was the real angel, she thought as she moved that gun from an ankle holster to one of the side pockets of her cargos, from where she could fire without having to take it out.
    That done, she focused on Raphael’s wings. Up close, they were impossibly perfect, impossibly brilliant. She couldn’t help but stroke her finger down the part closest to her. Some things were worth the dance with danger.
    “We don’t need her.” Michaela’s voice dripped power.
    “Yes, we do.” Raphael’s tone shifted, became an icy flame. “Calm down before you overstep the rules of Guesthood.”
    Elena wondered what those rules were even as she realized that Raphael had never spoken to her in that tone. Oh, he’d used some pretty harsh stuff, but not this one. Maybe it was reserved for other archangels. If so, they were welcome to it. She had no desire to face him down in that kind of a mood.
    “You’d make an enemy out of me over a human?” The word “human” might as well have been “rodent.”
    “Uram is an archangel in the grip of a killing lust.” Raphael’s tone hadn’t changed—she could almost glimpse the ice