Angel’s Blood (Guild Hunter #1)(38)
Author: Nalini Singh

"I’ve seen what they can do." The vampire’s eyes swirled with the rivers of memory. "I was under Neha’s tender mercies for a hundred years. Why didn’t you stop me when I rebelled against your authority?"

"You were two hundred years old," Raphael pointed out, heading toward the bathroom. "Old enough to choose."

Dmitri snorted. "Old enough to be cocky with no real knowledge to back it up. A damn pup with delusions of grandeur." A pause. "Have you never wondered-if I’m a spy?"

"If I had, you’d be dead."

Dmitri smiled and there was a loyalty in his eyes that surprised Raphael each time he saw it. The vampire was incredibly powerful, could’ve set up a stronghold of his own, but he chose to give his life over to an archangel. "Now I will ask you a question, Dmitri."

"Sire."

"Why do you think I intend to spare Elena’s life?"

"You need her to track Uram," Dmitri responded. "And . . . there is something about her that fascinates you. Not much fascinates an immortal."

"Feeling the stirrings of ennui?"

"I see its edge on the horizon-how do you fight it?"

Raphael wasn’t sure he had been fighting it. "As you say, very little fascinates an immortal."

"Ah." Dmitri’s smile turned sexual in the way of vampires. "So you must savor that which fascinates."

Elena woke when her bladder protested. It was a good thing hunters were trained to restrain their natural urges in such circumstances-some hunts involved hours upon hours of immobile watchfulness. Still, it wasn’t comfortable.

I will send Dmitri.

Her face went so hot, it felt like she had third-degree burns. "Do you always spy on people?" It was tempting, but she didn’t try to use that headache-inducing shield thing she seemed to have developed. Better to save that for when he was really messing with her.

No. Most people aren’t very interesting.

The arrogance of the answer was stunning . . . and welcome. This was the archangel she knew. "I’m not letting that vampire escort me to the bathroom. He’ll probably try to bite me."

Wait for me, then.

That just made her want to scream. "Get him to untie me. I can hardly make a daring escape with you up and around."

I don’t think Dmitri trusts you with your hands and feet unbound.

She was about to tell him exactly what she thought of that when the door opened to admit the vampire in question. He looked like he’d been up all night, his shirt rumpled, his previously neat hair messy. It only made him look lusciously sexy. "Do vampires sleep?"

He gave her a startled look. "You’re a vampire hunter. Don’t you know?"

"I mean I know you sleep, but do you really need it?" She stayed very still as he went behind her. "Dmitri?"

Cool fingers brushing her hair out of the way to bare her nape. Knuckles running along skin. "We can go without sleep for longer than humans, but yes, we need it."

"Stop that," she muttered when he continued to stroke her with his knuckles. "I’m not in the mood."

"That sounds promising." His breath whispered against her nape, a dangerous place for a vampire with cool hands. It meant he hadn’t fed. "What can I do to get you in the mood?"

"Untie me and let me use the bathroom."

He chuckled and then she felt a tug on her wrists. The bonds fell magically away. "How the hell?"

"I learned rope bondage from a true adept," he murmured, playing with strands of her hair as she released herself from the ropes.

She would’ve snapped at him to stop it but he wasn’t hurting her and now that Raphael was awake, she had a feeling it wasn’t Dmitri who posed the real danger. "Bathroom?" She jumped to her feet as soon as the ropes were undone, then moaned. "My muscles. Why the hell did you have to tie me up so hard?" She threw him an evil look.

"Maybe I was getting my own back." He rubbed a hand across his throat.

"I thought you liked pain."

A dark smile, filled with whispers of badness that would hurt oh so good. "But you didn’t stay to play."

She sniffed the air suspiciously. No scent. He was just being his usual self. And gorgeous as he was, he didn’t make her stupid with lust. Maybe a touch affected, but what woman wouldn’t be? "For the last time, where’s the-" She followed the direction of his raised hand toward a small door. "Thanks."

Once inside, she frowned and tried to use that "shield" that might turn out to be nothing but her imagination running wild. There was no way she wanted Raphael in her head at that moment. Ten minutes later, she’d used the facilities, washed her face, brushed her teeth using one of the disposable toothbrushes under the sink, and combed her hair using the dinky disposable brush. There was even a small white hair-tie included in the pack, which she used to pull her hair up into a ponytail, her own hair-tie having being lost God only knew when.

Looking in the mirror, she decided she’d do. The thin cuts on her face were barely noticeable and though her palms were a little tender, they wouldn’t limit her range of movement. As for clothes-her fatigue-green T-shirt looked okay and her black cargo pants weren’t too badly wrinkled. It was as good an outfit to die in as any. Not that she was going to make it easy for the archangel. That thought in mind, she quickly disassembled one of the disposable razors, intending to get to the blade.

"Fuck!"

"Did you find the razors, Elena?" came Dmitri’s voice from the other side. "You wound me with your estimation of my IQ."

She threw the plastic in the trash. That vampire had somehow managed to remove the blade without destroying the razor as a whole. "Very funny." Opening the door, she walked out.

Dmitri stood on the opposite side of the room, his hand on the doorknob. "Raphael wants to see you." Gone was any hint of friendliness.

"I’m ready."

That seemed to amuse him. "Are you?"

"How about a knife at least?" she bargained. "Make it a fair fight?"

He opened the door. "If it comes down to it, there will be no fight. But for some reason, I don’t think Raphael plans to kill you."

That’s what Elena was afraid of. "Where are we going?"

"To the roof."

Elena tried to remain calm as they made their way to the elevators and shot up. But there was no way she could forget the last time she’d gone up to the roof. Her hand clenched, remembering the ruthless ease with which Raphael had illustrated his control over her. Why the hell did she keep forgetting the reality of his nature?