Guild Hunter 04 - Archangel's Blade

She’d been tortured and broken . . . but this desolation, it came from another place, so very, very deep that it had no name.
    Swallowing the burn in her throat before the sadness could recapture her in its aching grip, she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. It was barely five a.m. but the three hours of sleep she’d gotten tonight were better than the hour the previous night. Washing off the sweat, she pressed her head against the tile and simply let the water roll over and off her.
    She’d always loved water. Part of the reason she’d ended up in Manhattan was because it was surrounded by water. It had been a considered decision to apply to the Academy. She’d wanted to study ancient languages and knew that the Guild would cover her fees if she signed a contract to remain active on the roster for at least four years after graduation.
    The four-year mark had come and gone, but she’d never even considered leaving. Not only had the other hunters become her family, but her expertise in ancient cultures and languages was a skill in constant demand, given the fact that theirs was a world ruled by immortals. The thought circled her mind back to the Tower and to the vampire who had always been her darkest, most secret weakness.
    Switching off the shower, she stepped out to dry herself off, forcing her brain to focus on the task that had left her with a splitting headache the previous night. Whatever it was that had been tattooed on the vampire’s face—and on the back of his right shoulder, according to the photos she’d received from the pathologist—was so idiosyncratic as to defy logical explanation. And yet she knew there had to be one. Because regardless of how the head had come into Dmitri’s hands, the body had been an unmistakable message.
    Dressing in jeans and a plain white tee, she headed out into the kitchen area, which flowed off the lounge, to prepare some tea. The view from the entire front section of the apartment was the same—the Tower. Brilliant with light against the dark early morning skies, it drew the eye like a lodestar.
    Walking to the glass wall, tea in hand, she watched a solitary angel come in to land. He was only a silhouette from this far out, but even then, his grace was extraordinary. Not one of the “normal” angels, she thought. This was someone akin to the black-winged angel Dmitri had spoken with on the balcony outside his office.
    The knock on her door was so unexpected that she didn’t startle, just stared. When it came again, she put down the tea, pulled her gun, and walked on silent feet to the peephole. The vampire on the other side was a sleek predator she should’ve shot at first glance. Instead, she opened the door. “Dmitri.”
    Dressed in black jeans, a T-shirt of the same color, and a butter-soft leather coat that reached his ankles, he looked like the most sinful fantasy she’d ever had, the kind that left a woman damp and slick and ready. Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, she caught the tendrils of sumptuous pleasure and blade-sharp sex in his scent.
    Not the reason for her response, but the lush addiction of it certainly didn’t help. It was a good thing she wasn’t a true hunter-born—because he was potent. “You usually visit around this time?”
    “I was passing.” He leaned against the doorjamb, lifting the large manila envelope in his hand.
    The blades in his scent grew razored, cutting across her senses with deadly eroticism. Suddenly all she saw in his eyes was a menace as sensual as a caress in the dark and as lethal as a stiletto. “What have you done?” The question escaped every filter of social nicety and convention.
    “Nothing that didn’t need to be done.” Pushing off the doorjamb when she released her death grip on the edge of the door and stepped back, he walked into her apartment.
    She tugged the envelope from him the instant the door was closed, sliding away her gun even as she allowed herself to indulge in the wicked, beautiful scent of him. “Further photos of the victim’s tats?”
    “No.”
    Opening it, she pulled out several sheets of paper, along with a number of blown-up photographs. At first, she didn’t understand what it was she was seeing, and then she did and her blood boiled. “This is my medical report.” Specifically, from the humiliating examination after her rescue. The doctor and nurse had both been gentle, kind, but there in that examination room, there had no longer been any