Archangel's Kiss (Guild Hunter 2)

"Good." She gripped the armrests. "I feel for Michaela, I do." Losing a child . . . she couldn't imagine the pain.

Her father had lost two daughters.

Because of Elena.

Swallowing the pain-lashed guilt that sat like a stone on her chest, she turned to look at the archangel she called her own. "But she was out of it at the hospital. All it would've taken was one conversation with you and there would've been no violence."

"You're expecting her to act human, Elena." An answer laced with cold. "Archangels aren't used to asking permission for anything."

She was no longer the same woman who'd woken from the coma, their relationship a complete mystery. She knew pieces of him now. Enough to ask, "What's wrong?"

Raphael glanced at her with eyes that had gone that metallic shade that never augured anything good. "What Michaela did to Aloysius? I wouldn't have been that merciful."

Her palms grew damp. "You call that mercy?"

"He died quickly." Frost in that gaze, a chill immortal winter. "I would've kept him alive for days while I tore his mind apart."

She blew out an unsteady breath. "Why are you telling me?"

You need to know who I am.

Elena thought of that, gave him her answer. "If Slater Patalis was standing in front of me, I'd do the same."

Raphael ran the back of his hand over her cheek. "No, Elena. I think your anger is a far hotter flame."

Reaching up, she tangled their fingers together. "I'll try to stop you if it ever comes to that."

"Why? Do you pity those who'd harm the innocent?"

"No." She brought their clasped hands to her lips. "I care about you."

Raphael felt the cold in him shift, begin to heat from within. "So you'll try to save me."

"I think it'll be mutual." A voice husky with shadowed memories. She'd woken on a scream again today, her mind locked inside a horror almost two decades in the past.

Mirroring her kiss, he raised her hand to his mouth. "We'll save each other."

There were no more words until his hunter shook her head. "What if this angel, the one who wants to become an archangel, tries something while we're gone?"

"Nazarach, Dahariel, and Anoushka have all been invited to the ball, as have others of comparable power."

Elena grew still. "That's when they'll make their move, isn't it? It'll be the perfect stage, especially with the Cadre meeting ahead of the ball."

"Yes." He looked at her, the pulse in her neck a fluttering, fragile thing. "Do not let them near. You remain the target who'll get this aspirant the most attention."

"Don't worry. They're not exactly people I want to spend time with." A shiver that he knew had nothing to do with the threat on her life even before she spoke. "Lijuan . . .

have you heard anything?"

"She has brought her reborn to the Forbidden City. We will see the dead walk."

Chapter 32

The Forbidden City took Elena's breath away. An intricate maze of delicate buildings and hidden pathways, the place really was a city within a city. And it was a city full of wonder - white marble bridges with dragons sleeping on the end-posts; paved courtyards replete with trees, each strung with twinkling silk lanterns in lieu of fruit; courtiers clothed in a myriad of jewel tones. It was like something out of a dream.

"Butterflies," she whispered, standing on the private balcony of the upper-level residence that was their own. "They remind me of butterflies."

Raphael's presence was a solid warmth behind her, his hands braced on the railing on either side of her. She savored the heat of him, feeling his chest vibrate against her wings as he spoke. "Neha and some of the others keep a court to a certain extent, but Lijuan's is the most extensive."

"She's truly a queen." Fans unfurled as she watched, coquettish smiles exchanged over their illusionary borders. All the women wore ankle-length dresses, most in styles that whispered of elegance rather than sex. "Do you think they know of the reborn?"

"Yes." His hands closed over her own, his voice an intimate darkness in her ear. "Jason's men tell him Lijuan has begun to bring some of her reborn to the inner court as entertainment."

Elena's hands, covered by the strength of Raphael's, clenched on the age-smoothed stone of the railing. "She'd debase them that way? I thought she considered them her creations?"

"Some, it seems, are more favored than others." He slid his hands up her arms, holding her to him. "Tomorrow morning, I meet with the Cadre. Take care when you walk the grounds - Lijuan may find it a game to pit one of them against you."

"Who's my bodyguard?"

"Aodhan." A pause. "You're not happy."

"I don't like the fact that I still have a babysitter."

"It's necessary."

"For now."

A dangerous quietness, and she knew this was one battle she'd have to fight again. She could handle that - and so, she thought, could Raphael. "You chose a warrior, remember?"

A kiss on the sensitive skin just below her ear. "As you chose an archangel."

She'd always known he'd be no easy lover. But then, neither was she. "I've never sparred with you." A playful invitation. "Do you like knives?"

The barest hint of a smile on the mouth he brushed against the same spot he'd tantalized before. "We'll dance with blades after the ball."

It was difficult to think with him so close, the Forbidden City humming with beauty below. "You didn't bring that many men with you." Jason had flown in with them, and with Aodhan, that made only two of the Seven in attendance.

"If it comes down to a fight, it'll be too late."

Elena finished putting her hair into the sleek French twist that Sara had taught her - the slithery strands anchored with what felt like five hundred pins - and examined herself in the mirror. The cap-sleeved ice blue dress was backless, didn't even come to midthigh -

with slits up both sides - and, in spite of the shards of crystal embedded on the surface, slicked over her body like a second skin. She'd stared at the tailor when he'd first presented it to her, but the vamp was no idiot. Paired with thigh-high boots and tights, both in black, it turned her from arm candy to sleek assassin while leaving her plenty of freedom should she need to move.

Warm male hands on her hips. "Perfect." The raw hunger in that single word silvered over her body like a long, lazy stroke, her ni**les beading against the soft fabric.