Angels' Blood (Guild Hunter #1)(19)

"There was no realization." She shrugged. "I could always do it. It took me until I was about five to understand it was something different, abnormal." The word slipped out, her father's word. She felt her mouth thin. "I thought everyone could do it."

"As a young angel might think everyone can fly."

Curiosity spiked out of the anger. "Yes." So there were child angels. But where? "I knew our neighbor was a vampire before anyone else did. I accidentally ratted him out one day." She still felt bad about that, though she'd only been a child at the time. "He was trying to pass as human."

Raphael's face settled into lines of displeasure. "It would've been better had he given the chance to someone else. Why accept the gift of immortality if you wish to be human?"

"I gotta agree with that one." She shrugged. "Mr. Benson was forced to move out after a neighborhood uproar."

"Not a tolerant place, your childhood home."

"No." And her father had been at the head of that intolerance. How it had humiliated him that his daughter was one of the monsters. "A few years later, I felt Slater Patalis brush by as he murdered his way across the country." Her heart froze in her chest, chilled by the secret horror connected to that name.

"One of our few mistakes."

Not really a mistake, she thought, not if he'd been normal going in. But she couldn't say that without betraying Sara. "So you see, I'm used to fear. I grew up knowing the bogey-man lurked outside."

"You lie to me, Elena." He stopped in front of a solid black door. "But I will let it pass. You'll soon tell me the truth of why you dance with death so eagerly."

She wondered if he had Ariel and Mirabelle's names in his files, if he knew the truth of the tragedy that had destroyed her mother and turned her father into a stranger. "You know what they say about being overconfident."

"Exactly." A small nod. "So tonight, I'll show you why those you call whores seek their vampire lovers."

"Nothing you do or say will convince me to change my mind." She scowled. "They're little more than drug addicts."

"Such obstinance," he murmured, and pushed open the door.

Whispered sounds, laughter, the tinkle of glass. It flowed out like an invitation. Raphael's eyes dared her to step inside. Fool that she was, she accepted the challenge and-slipping a knife from an arm sheath into her palm-walked in, piercingly aware of the archangel at her back, the naked vulnerability of her spine . . . until her mouth dropped open in shock.

The vampires were having a cocktail party.

She blinked, taking in the muted, romantic lighting, the plush couches, the hors d'oeuvres accompanied by slender flutes of champagne. The food was clearly for the human guests, male and female, who stood talking, laughing, and flirting with their vampire hosts. Dinner suits lay snugly over lithely muscled shoulders, while cocktail dresses ran the gamut from long and slinky to short and sexy, the overriding themes black and red, with the occasional daring splash of white.

Conversation stopped the second they saw her. Then their eyes flicked behind her and she almost heard the collective sigh of relief-the hunter was on the archangel's leash. Stifling the childish urge to show them different, she slid the knife discreetly back up into the sheath.

None too soon, too, because a vampire was walking toward her, glass of wine in hand. At least she hoped it was wine-the dark red liquid could as easily have been blood. "Hello, Elena." The words were said in a beautiful, deep voice but it was his scent that was truly intoxicating-rich and dark and luscious.

"Doorvamp," she whispered, throat husky. It was only when she found herself pressed against the living heat of Raphael that she realized she'd backed away from the clawing beauty of the invisible caress.

"My name is Dmitri." He smiled, displaying a row of sparkling white teeth, not a fang in sight. An old vamp, an experienced vamp. "Come, dance with me."

Heat uncurled between her legs, an involuntary reaction to Dmitri's scent, a scent that held a very special-and highly erotic-allure for the hunter-born. "Stop it or I swear I'll make you a eunuch."

He looked down at the blade now pressing against his zipper. When he raised his head, his expression was more than a fraction annoyed. "If you're not here to play, why come at all?" The scent dissipated, as if he'd drawn it into himself. "This is a place of safety and enjoyment. Take your weapons elsewhere."

Flushing, she got rid of the knife. It was obvious she'd just committed a major faux pas. "Raphael."

The archangel curled his hand around her upper arm. "Elena is here to learn. She doesn't understand the fascination you hold for humans."

Dmitri raised an eyebrow. "I'd be happy to show you."

"Not tonight, Dmitri."

"As you wish, sire." Giving a small nod, Dmitri walked away . . . but only after wrapping a tendril of scent around her as a parting shot.

His slow smile said he could scent her response, knew she was weak-kneed with it. But the effect faded with every step he took, until she no longer craved the sensual pain of his touch-Dmitri's scent was as much a tool of mind control as Raphael's abilities. But for the first time, she began to understand why some hunters became sexually-even romantically-intertwined with the very creatures they hunted.