Guild Hunter 02 - Angels' Flight
her head away at the same time.
Freezing, he dropped his hand from her cheek and took a step back, making no effort to hide the jut of his arousal. “Should I apologize?”
Jessamy gave him an incredulous look out of those pleasure-smudged brown eyes… Then she laughed, the vibrant color of it filling his aerie, sinking into his bones. But the laughter faded between one breath and the next, her expression betraying a stark bleakness before she blinked and he was faced with warm elegance again, so gentle, so unimpeachable. “I’m the one who should apologize,” she said, fixing her gown though it needed no fixing.
His eyes narrowed. “Is it because I’m not learned?”
“No!” She reached out a hand, dropped it midway. “No, Galen.” Distress darkened her eyes, made her face pale.
There.
A weakness, a chink in her armor he could use to batter his way inside. Except sometimes, it was better to allow your opponent to believe she’d won. “Perhaps I’m not learned,” he said, quickly cleaning up the area where she’d trimmed his hair, “but I understand I need to know what you can teach me. Will you?”
Jessamy hadn’t felt so turned around since she was a child. “I—of course,” she said, the answer instinctive. “Perhaps in the evenings after you’ve taken care of your own students.”
A nod. #x201C;So, Alexander, perhaps Lijuan. Anyone else who might find your knowledge problematic?”
She watched in silence as he strode to the cushions in the living area and sprawled with his hands under his head, looking up at a ceiling that glittered with the minerals embedded in the stone. Just like that, she thought, anger simmering in her veins, he’d moved past a kiss that had aroused her beyondneed, beyond want. A lick more and she’d have allowed him to bare her to the skin, stroke those big hands anywhere and everywhere he pleased, pin her against the stone wall if he so desired… except it appeared only one of them had been so deeply affected.
Wanting to shake him and kiss her way across the muscled breadth of his chest at the same time, her emotions jerking between one extreme and the next, she went to take a seat on the stool, when he said, “It’s more comfortable here,” in a low purr of a tone.
It was a dare, no doubt about it.
Shoulders set and eyes narrowed, she crossed the distance between them to take a seat against the wall. It put her in the corner, but there was more than enough room that she didn’t feel constrained. As the sweet, spicy smell of the cake filled the aerie, she kept her eyes focused straight ahead rather than on the man beside her.
“There is also Michaela,” she said. The angel’s beauty was legend, so much so that it blinded people to both her capriciousness and the sheer power she carried in her bones. “If she has a vulnerability, she might not want it known so close to her entry into the Cadre.” Jessamy could think of nothing that would cause Michaela such concern, but she would research her files when day broke. “There is a flaw in your theory.”
A sense of movement, the caress of a hot, masculine scent that made her breath catch.
“No archangel,” she said, “or powerful immortal, would have sent a lone vampire if he or she had wanted to ensure my death. It would’ve been far more effective to have had a team of angels pick me up as I walked to my home and drop me into the gorge.”
Galen’s entire body went motionless—as if his very breath was suspended. It was then that she realized she was looking at him again. Not only looking, but admiring. Beautiful, infuriating creature. One who could kiss and forget in the blink of an eye, when her skin continued to burn with the sensory echo of his touch, when his taste—so wild, so
male
—lingered yet on her lips.
“Jessamy?”
Caught by the quiet, intense timbre, she said, “Yes?”
“I say this because I believe in giving fair warning.” His voice infiltrated parts of her he shouldn’t have been able to reach, they were so well hidden, so fiercely protected. “I’m very good at tactics. I know when to retreat, when to lull my opponent into a false sense of security… and when to launch a final, victorious strike.”
6
D rawing in a shuddering breath, she rose to her feet, os tensibly to check on the cake. “I’m not a campaign to be won, Galen.”
Her anger at her limited existence—and
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