Angel's Blood (Guild Hunter 1)

Chapter 22

No woman on the planet could've resisted the sexual heat of Raphael at that moment. "Is this your idea of refueling?" she murmured, biting down softly on his lower lip.

His arms slid around her. "Sex and power have always been connected." And then he kissed her.

Her feet lifted up on tiptoe as she tried to get closer. His arms crushed her to his chest, his wings blocking out the world as she gripped his shirt and tried not to drown under the overload of pleasure. That erotic, aphrodisiac angel dust seemed to be sinking into her pores through every inch of exposed skin, snaking through her body to collect in the hot, aching place between her thighs, the excess flowing through her body in a rush of liquid heat. Her br**sts ached, her lips craved him.

"How's the power generation going?" she gasped when he let her up for air.

His eyes were still as dark but sparks of electric blue glittered in the depths. "Exquisitely."

Her reply was lost in the fury of his next kiss. Under her hands, his chest was hard, sculptured, hot. She wanted to shape, to taste, to pet. Stroking up, she found the collar of his shirt, and slid one hand inside to lie against his shoulder. His reaction was to grip her bottom with one hand and raise her so the hard ridge of his erection pressed against the vee of her thighs.

There was nothing removed or angelic about him at that moment. He was pure sexy, gorgeous male. And strong, so beautifully strong it made her feel feminine to the core. For the first time in her life, she didn't have to hold back her hunter strength. That was a little-known fact about hunters who were born, not trained. They were stronger than an ordinary human, more likely to survive an encounter with a pissed-off vamp.

"Good," was Raphael's only reaction when she wrapped both legs around his waist. He continued to hold her as if she weighed nothing and it was almost as erotic as the way his hand shaped her, strong and confident.

"You kiss pretty well for a guy with wings," she murmured into the intimacy of his mouth. The truth was, he was threatening to blow off the top of her head.

"And your mouth is going to get you into trouble yet again." He shoved a hand up under her T-shirt, spreading those strong fingers against her spine, igniting a shock of pleasure. "Feeling coerced?"

"Extremely." But he'd been telling the truth about the angel dust-it tasted like pure sex but didn't seem to be affecting her mind . . . at least no more than could be accounted for by the lust racing through her system.

He shifted his hold at that moment, continuing to support her with one hand under her butt, while the other snaked around her body to cup her breast. Electricity arced through her. "You don't waste time," she said, breaking the kiss to suck in a breath.

"Mortals don't live long." He pinched her nipple through her bra. "I have to take advantage of you while I can."

"Not funny. Oh-" She pushed into his hands, wondering at herself. She'd never, not once, fallen for the vampires she so often came in contact with. More than one hunter had-hell, the old ones were not only pretty, they were smart and knew exactly how to please a lover. Dmitri was the perfect example.

Yet Elena had resisted, knowing that, for all their appeal, they were, in the end, almost-immortals who saw her as nothing more than a fleeting diversion. And she'd fought too hard for her right to live to value it so cheaply. But here she was, wrapped around an archangel. "How long do you play with your toys?"

He cupped her breast. "As long as they amuse me."

The answer should have dampened the heat between them but those eyes of his, they were furious with sex, with hunger, with passion such as she'd never before known. "I have no intention of amusing you."

He molded her sensitive flesh. "Then this will blow over very fast." His tone said otherwise. "Now open your mouth."

She did just that-to tell him not to give her orders. But he took advantage, sweeping in to entangle her senses in a wash of male hunger and the exotic, erotic taste of angel dust. She dug her fingers into his back, glorying in the heavy muscle under her touch. His lips left hers to trail down her neck-he grazed her with his teeth, leaving marks. "I would like very much to f**k you, Elena."

She sucked in a cool breath of air, then buried her face against his neck, vividly conscious of his hand on her breast. "Such a romantic proposal."

His wings brushed her back as he closed them even tighter around her. "Would you prefer flowery words, paeans to your beauty?"

She laughed, licked at his skin, taking the savage, quintessentially masculine scent of him deep inside. The idea of Raphael serenading her was preposterous. "No, honesty works for me." Especially when that honesty was coated in pure sexual fire, a dark heat focused solely on her.

"Good." He began to move.

"Stop." She wiggled, surprising him into letting her go. The second her feet touched the ground, she pushed off his chest . . . then had to use him to balance herself when her legs wobbled.

He put one hand on her waist to steady her. "I never took you for a tease."

"I'm also not a pushover." She wiped the back of her hand across her lips. It came away sparkling with fine glitter, making her wonder about the rest of her face. "I just spent the night tied up in a chair, buddy."

"You're saying we're even?" He folded back his wings.

The sudden space made her realize how close she was to the edge of the roof. Taking a few wary steps forward, she nodded. "You disagree?"

Eyes the color of the deepest oceans gleamed. "Whether I do or not, it's good you stopped us. We have something to discuss."

"What?"

"It'll soon be time to earn your paycheck."

Fear and exhilaration burst through her veins. "You have a bead on Uram?"

"In a sense." His face was suddenly very ascetic, all traces of sensuality smoothing away to reveal the bone structure no mortal man would ever possess. "We'll eat first. Then we will speak of blood."

"I don't want to eat."

"You will." His tone was absolute. "I won't be accused of mistreating my hunter."

"Change that pronoun," she said. "I'm not yours."

"Really?" His lips curved slightly and it wasn't amusement. "Yet you have my mark driven into your skin."

She brushed at the backs of her hands. The damn glittery stuff stuck. "It'll wash off."

"Perhaps."

"You better hope it does-a glow-in-the-dark hunter won't exactly blend in."