Archangel’s Kiss (Guild Hunter #2)(66)
Author: Nalini Singh

"Makeup," she gasped.

He relaxed his hold enough that she could brush some bronzer over her cheekbones, slap some mascara on her eyes. Opening the box included with the clothes, she found a tube of lipstick. It turned out to be an intense scarlet. "This isn’t my style."

"Think of it as camouflage," Raphael said, pulling her back against his half-dressed body as she held the lipstick, his c**k a brand against her back, her wings burning with the most erotic of sensations. "Allowing you to blend into enemy territory."

"I don’t look much like the vampires and angels I saw out there." Her dress/tunic was in no way demure. Then there were the knives. Not to mention the gun. They were all concealed tonight, a courtesy that had gone against the grain after Lijuan’s games. But she was learning to pick her battles. "I wouldn’t know how to flutter a fan if you hit me over the head with one."

"No, you’re too much the hunter." A glance so heated, she half expected the mirror to melt. As it was, she had to clench her thighs to fight the urge to take him to the floor, to ride him to screaming ecstasy.

"But she won’t see that," he murmured. "She’ll see only a young, weak angel –

intriguing because of the way she came to be, but otherwise not worthy of notice."

"Good." It’d give her the freedom to watch Lijuan unawares. Elena had no illusions she could physically do anything to stop the oldest of the archangels, but maybe she could get an insight into her psyche, some small thing that might help Raphael.

Releasing her, Raphael walked to the side table. "Illium asked permission to give you a present."

Curious, she turned . . . to meet chrome blue. "What did he do to jerk your chain this time?"

A slow curve to his mouth, an archangel’s dangerous humor. "Knives and sheaths," he murmured.

She touched the top of her right boot. "I’ve got mine – "

"Hmm." Taking something from a smooth wooden box, he moved to her. "But you have not got mine." His hand at her nape, a kiss so dark and full of possession it made her want to claim him in turn.

"We won’t get to dinner if you keep that up." She held his gaze, held the beauty and cruelty of it, her palm on his bare chest.

His slid his hand up over the back of her thigh, his fingers brushing the oh-so-sensitive flesh between her legs. She sucked in a breath. "Teasing, Archangel?"

Teeth grazed over her lips. "Know this Elena – you’ll never wear another man’s knife."

She blinked. "He wanted to give me a blade? What’s wrong with that?"

"Blades," he whispered, "and sheaths go together. And your sheath will only ever hold my blade."

It took her a second – desire had fogged up her mind. Her face flamed. "Raphael, that’s – " She shook her head, unable to find the words. "Fighting is not sexual."

"Oh?" Eyes full of sea storms, violent and wild and exhilarating.

The heat turned to smoldering embers inside her, lush with the knowledge that his dangerous, beautiful man belonged to her. "Possession goes both ways, Archangel."

"Acknowledged, hunter." Stepping back, he opened his hand.

Her eye was dazzled, her mind entranced. "Are those stones real?" She was already taking it from him, already pulling the sweet, sweet blade out of the sheath that had been designed specifically for it. It gleamed razor-sharp in the light, warring with the brilliance of the jewels in the hilt, in the sheath, for dominance.

"Of course."

Of course. She played the knife in and over her hand, testing its heft, the balance. It was perfection in her grasp. "God, it’s gorgeous." The jewels were breathtaking, but it was the blade that held her interest, the delicacy and strength of it. "Throw me that scarf."

Picking up the piece of gauzy, airy fabric, Raphael flicked it up. It came down in a mist .

. . parting on either side of the blade as if it had broken flawlessly in half. "Oh, man." So sharp, so sweetly sharp. "You had this made for me?" Crossing the distance between them, she kissed him without waiting for an answer.

Raphael’s eyes were glittering brightly enough to outshine the diamonds and blue sapphires on the hilt and sheath when she drew back. "You sound like you’re having sex."

"A blade this sweet is as good as sex." She turned the sheath around, looking . . .

admiring. She wasn’t acquisitive by nature. Only with her apartment – a stabbing hurt –

had she been different. But this blade, it spoke to that same part of her.Mine , she thought. "I need a – "

Raphael was already lifting a holster out of the box. Made of a soft, sleek black leather, it had a belt that slid into the slits on either side of the sheath, before fitting snugly over her upper arm. "Perfect." She slid the weapon into place. "The knife and sheath are light enough that it won’t slip. And so pretty that they’ll come across as decorative."

Raphael watched his hunter play with her gift, astounded by the pleasure he received from her joy. This gift meant something to her. He’d gotten it right.

He’d also almost killed Illium for daring to try to impinge on something that was his.

"Do you think I don’t already have such a gift for my mate?"

"Sire, I meant no disrespect."

"Go, Illium. Before I forget she loves you."

It had been an irrational reaction, focused on an angel who’d long ago proven his loyalty, who’d bled for Elena. Raphael wasn’t used to feeling so out of control, not for anyone.

"Then she will kill you. She will make you mortal."

He’d taken that to mean a physical weakening, but what if Lijuan had been warning against this – the slow warming of his heart, until it clouded the cold reason that had colored his rule for so long? "Reason or emotion," he said to Elena as she slid the knife back into its sheath after a complicated set of moves. "Which would you choose?"

She gave him a funny half smile over her shoulder. "It’s not that simple. Reason without emotion is often a mask for cruelty; emotion without reason can allow people to excuse all sorts of excesses."

"Yes," he said, remembering the pitiless monster he’d become in the Quiet.

Turning, Elena walked over to him, her h*ps swaying in a way that was pure provocation, the spike heels of her boots bringing her height to just above his jaw.

"Remember what I said about possession going both ways?"

"I will not betray you Elena." That she’d think to question that caused a ripple of anger in him.