Guild Hunter 01 - Angels' Blood

order. She knew Raphael wouldn’t start a war over a mortal.
    Destiny’s Rose.
    An image of the ancient treasure danced in his head. In all his centuries of existence, he’d never once considered giving it away. Until Elena. His mortal. Perhaps he’d fight Michaela over her after all. “You have safeguards in place?”
    “Of course.”
    Those safeguards were obviously not enough—the entire Cadre had expected Uram to come for her, and yet she’d been caught unprepared. “Do you need more men? You’re far from home.”
    “No.” Pride dripped from the single word as she strode to the edge of the balcony and stared down, following Elena’s progress. “If your hunter has the scent, it means he was watching me long enough to have left a discernible imprint.”
    Raphael could have asked Elena to confirm, but after the incident that had led to the Quiet, he was making an attempt to stay out of her head. A sign of the weakness Lijuan had warned of—an attack of human scruples? Perhaps. But Raphael had never liked what he became in the Quiet. And this time . . . it had been a fraction too close to Caliane’s madness. “You’re still as you were?” he asked, burying that ancient memory.
    Michaela’s skin tightened, the sharp lines of her bones almost cutting through her skin. “I’m an archangel without glamour, yes.”
    “Unfortunate.”
    She laughed, a low sound designed to make men think of sex. The first time he’d seen Michaela, she’d had her mouth on the cock of the archangel who’d ruled ancient Byzantium. Her eyes had met his as she drove the archangel to his little death and Raphael had known she would one day rule. Two decades later, the Archangel of Byzantium was dead.
    His eyes picked out Elena as she entered the wooded area that divided his property from Michaela’s. “Have you spoken to Lijuan about it?” he asked, even as he watched Elena purse her lips in concentration. Her mouth was lush, seductive. He was very interested in having it all over his body. But like all warrior women, she’d have to be tamed to his hand.
    “She talks in riddles,” Michaela spit out, “has no explanation for why the glamour eludes me.”
    Under normal circumstances, that lack wouldn’t be much of a concern—Michaela had other skills, some known, some not, but no one could doubt her status as archangel. However, in this one situation, she was at a lethal disadvantage, because along with glamour came an immunity to it. Raphael couldn’t hide from Uram but the Angel of Blood couldn’t hide from him either. “Call Riker back.”
    “Why?”
    “You can’t see Uram, but Elena can scent him.”
    Michaela’s next words were dismissive. “Riker is watching her, nothing more. And there are other hunters if he loses control.” A pause. “She’s human, Raphael. She knows nothing of the pleasures I could show you.”
    Raphael flared out his wings in preparation for flight. “I would have thought Charisemnon would appeal. He was your lover once.”
    Green eyes met his as he went to the very edge of a balcony made for angels—no railing, nothing to prevent a deadly fall. “But you I’ve never tasted. I can do things that will make eternity an erotic dream.”
    “The trouble is, your lovers seem to have very short life spans.” He flew down, across the yard, and over the wooded area.
    Riker was standing a few feet from Elena, his smile full of menace.
    Far from appearing frightened, Elena was flicking a knife through her fingers, her stance that of someone trained in hand-to-hand combat. As she opened her mouth as if to speak, Raphael flew down to land behind Riker, one hand on the vampire’s shoulder, the other on his back.
    “This is my territory,” he said. “Your mistress is a guest.” That was all the warning he gave before he thrust his hand through Riker’s clothing, flesh, and muscle to grip his panicked heart. A second later, that heart was in Raphael’s hand and Riker was twitching facedown on the ground.
    “Why?”
    He looked up to meet Elena’s horrified gaze over the continued pulse of Riker’s vampire heart. “There are boundaries. It’s better for mortals and immortals alike if those boundaries are not crossed.”
    Her grip on the knife was white-knuckled. “So you killed him?”
    Raphael dropped the heart to the ground and looked at his bloody hand, wondering if Uram had taken his victims’ hearts the same way. “He’s not dead.”
    “I—” She swallowed as he