Angel's Blood (Guild Hunter 1)

"Much obliged," she said sarcastically, noticing that there was nothing but air beyond the railing to her right-as if the core of the house was one huge, open space.

"Does it mean something-the sexual contact?"

"Could be. But there were no marks on the bodies aside from the death wounds, so that part may have been consensual." Archangels were charismatic, sexy, quite unbelievably compelling. Uram may have turned into a monster, but outside, he probably appeared just as attractive as the Archangel of New York. No, she thought immediately, Raphael was in a league of his own.

"Or it was after death."

She was too tired to be disgusted. "Possible." Reaching the third door, she put her hand on the doorknob. "He may have sublimated the feeding urge with sex for a small amount of time. But only blood's going to satisfy him now." Her hand tightened. "More women are going to die because I lost the scent."

"But less than if you'd never been born," he said, tone matter-of-fact. "I've lived centuries, Elena. Two or three hundred deaths is a small price to pay to stop one of the bloodborn."

Two or three hundred?!

"I won't let it get that far." She pushed open the door-and stepped into a fantasy. Her breath rushed out of her as she stood there, staring.

Flames leaped in the fireplace to her left, the golden glow surrounded by dark stone that shimmered with hidden threads of silver. In front of the fireplace was a huge white rug that looked so fluffy and comfortable she wanted to roll around on it-naked. Talk about pure indulgence.

On the opposite side of the room was a door that seemed to open into the bath. She could see the edge of white porcelain fittings, a counter made of the same marble as the fireplace. Inside, she knew a hot bath awaited, a bath her cold bones desperately needed. But still she stood there.

Because between the fireplace and the temptation of the bath was a bed. A bed bigger than any she'd ever seen. One that could've accommodated ten people without any of them touching the other. It sat high off the floor but there was no headboard or backboard, just a smooth expanse of bed covered by lush midnight-blue sheets that promised to stroke across her skin in an exotically delicious caress. The pillows sat on the opposite end to the door, but could as easily have been on this side.

"Why"-she coughed to clear her throat-"why so big?"

Hands on her hips, pushing her forward. "Wings, Elena." A rustling snap as Raphael extended his wings to their full length, then the click of the door locking behind them.

She was alone with the Archangel of New York. In front of a bed made to accommodate wings.

Chapter 31

Her body chose that moment to shiver.

Raphael's chuckle was husky, male in a way that said he knew he had her. "Bath first, I think."

"I thought you were playing hard to get."

He stroked a finger down her throat, making her shiver again for a far different reason. "I just want to set the ground rules before we do this."

She forced her feet forward, toward the bathroom. "I know the rules. Don't expect anything but a dance between the sheets, don't go all calf-eyed, yadda yadda." The words were flippant but she felt a tug in the region of her heart. No, she told herself, utterly horrified. Elena P. Deveraux would never be stupid enough to give her heart to an archangel. "Is that about-holy shit!" She stepped into the bathroom. "It's bigger than the bedroom!"

Not quite but close. The "bath" was almost the size of a small swimming pool, the steam curling off it pure, sensual temptation. A shower stood to her right, but it had no glass walls, the area defined only by an expanse of gold-flecked tile. A lightbulb went off in her head. "Wings," she whispered. "It's all to accommodate those beautiful wings."

"I'm glad they meet with your approval." The sound of something wet hitting the cool white of the tile had her glancing back.

Raphael's shirt was on the floor, his chest threatening to make her drool. Stop it, she told herself. But it was hard not to stare at the most beautiful male body she had ever seen. "What're you doing?" Her voice came out husky.

He raised an eyebrow. "Taking a bath."

"What about the rules?" She found her fingers were at the bottom of her T-shirt, ready to pull the sodden material over her head.

He kicked off his boots, watching her peel off the T-shirt to reveal the very circumspect sports bra she wore underneath. "We can discuss those in the bath." His voice held the promise of sex, and when she looked down, she realized why. The rain had turned her black bra into a second skin, the soft material delineating her ni**les with perfect clarity.

"Fine with me." Unable to look at him and think at the same time, she turned her back and got rid of her boots and socks, before peeling off the bra. Her fingers were on the waistband of her cargo pants when she felt his body heat behind her. A second later, he was tugging the tie off her hair. Surprisingly, he was careful, so it didn't hurt. The wet strands hit her bare back a few moments after that.

Lips on her neck. Hot. Sinful.

She shivered again, goose bumps rising across her flesh. "No cheating."

Big, warm hands stroked up her damp torso to cup her br**sts. She jerked at the bold move, moaned. "Enough. I'm cold." Though he was doing a great job of heating her up from the inside out.

More kisses along her neck.

She put her hands over his, and tipped her head to the side to give him better access. He trailed his tongue down, chasing a droplet of water that fell from her hair, down her nape, and along one shoulder, before drawing back. As she straightened, his thumbs hooked into the sides of her pants.

"Nuh-uh," she said, pulling away. "Rules first."

"Yes, the rules are very important."

She waited for him to move around her. He didn't. Her lips curved. And she decided that since she was living dangerously, she might as well go all the way. Undoing her pants, she pushed them and her panties down in a single push, before stepping out of the garments and kicking them aside. That done, she glanced over her shoulder.

The archangel's eyes held cobalt lightning. Alive. Vivid in a way that proclaimed his immortality. Her breath caught but she knew that if she planned to tangle with this particular male, she had to stand her ground. Throwing him a wicked smile, she walked up the steps built into the side of the bath and into the water.

"Ooooooh." Liquid heat. Pure heaven. She ducked under, came up pushing hair out of her eyes.

He was where she'd left him, watching her with those impossible eyes. But this time, she wasn't mesmerized. Not when she had his na**d body there for her delectation. The archangel was built like a fantasy, his chest sculptured with the honed muscles of a man who had to be able to carry his own body weight-and more-in flight.