Angels' Blood (Guild Hunter #1)(22)

The elevator ride was short, and this time when she exited, it was into a classy setup. Cool white was the overriding theme, with elegant accents of white gold. But when Raphael ushered her into his office, she found that his desk was a huge black chunk of polished volcanic stone.

If I were to splay you out on my desk and thrust my fingers into you right now, I think I'd find different.

She cut off the thought before it could crawl into her mind again, remaining on the far side of the desk as Raphael circled it to stand by the glass, his gaze on the city lights and, beyond them, the dark spill of the Hudson.

"Uram is in the state of New York."

"What?" Startled but pleased by the abrupt shift into work mode, she raised her hands to fix the mess the wind had made of her hair, pulling it back into a tight ponytail. "That makes our job stupid-easy. All I have to do is alert the hunter network to be on the lookout for an angel with dark gray wings."

"You've done your homework."

"His pattern is as distinctive as yours," she said. "Almost like a gypsy moth's."

"You will not alert anyone."

She set her jaw, any lingering hint of desire dying a quick death. "How am I supposed to do my job if you cut me off from the very things I need to do it effectively?"

"Those things will be useless to you in this hunt."

"Oh, come on!" she yelled at his back. "He's a big fricking angel with one-of-a-kind wings. People will notice him. And could you face me when we're talking?"

He turned, his eyes blue flame. Power licked off him in waves she could almost feel. "Uram won't stand out. Just like I don't."

She frowned. "What are you talking about-Oh, f*ck." He wasn't there anymore. She knew he had to be there but he was no longer visible to her sight. Swallowing, she walked to his last known position, and reached out.

To touch warm, male skin.

A ghostly hand closed over her wrist when she would've pulled back. Then one of her fingers was sucked into the mouth she'd stared at earlier, the hot-wet heat a violent provocation to the renewed pulse between her thighs. That was when she realized she couldn't see that part of her finger. "Stop it!" Wrenching away, she stumbled back against the desk.

Raphael appeared as a mirage, then solidified. "I was proving a point." He shifted to stand in front of her, blocking her in.

"You usually suck on people to prove a point?" Her fingers curled. "What the hell was that?"

"Glamour," he answered, tracing the shape of her mouth with his eyes. "It allows us to move hidden among the masses. It's part of what makes an archangel out of an angel."

"How long can you hold it?" She tried not to wonder what he was thinking when he looked at her that way, tried to remember that he'd threatened Sara's baby and her own life. But it was hard with him so close, so touchable. He looked almost human. Darkly, sexually human.

"I can hold it as long as it takes," he whispered and she had no doubt it was a double entendre. "Uram is older than I am. His power is greater. All he'd need to do is-" He cut himself off so abruptly, she knew he'd almost revealed too much. "At full power, he can hold the glamour close to indefinitely. Even weakened, he can still maintain it for most of the day, going to ground during the night hours."

"We're hunting the Invisible Man?" She leaned farther back, until she was almost sitting on the desk.

His hands were on the gleaming surface on either side of her hips without her knowing how he'd gotten so close. "That's why we need your sense of smell."

"I scent vampires," she said, frustrated, "not angels. I can't scent you."

He brushed off the detail as if it meant nothing. "We must wait."

"Wait for what?"

"For the right time." His wings rose, blocking out the view, draping them in night. "And while we wait, I'll indulge my need to see if you taste as tart as you sound."

The sensual web snapped. Not giving him warning, she used her agility to slide backward and off the other side of the desk, scattering paper as she went. "I told you," she gasped, heart thudding at the narrow escape, "I don't want to be your snack, your chew-toy, your f*ck-buddy. Find a vampire to sink your fang into." She strode out of the room and down the hall without waiting for an answer.

Somewhat to her amazement, no one stopped her. When she reached the ground floor, she found a taxi waiting-for her. She was about to tell the driver to get lost when she realized she had no money. Since she had no desire to walk home in the creeping chill of midnight, she got into the backseat. "Get me the hell out of here."

"Of course." The driver's voice was smooth. Too smooth.

She glanced up to meet his gaze in the mirror. "Vamps drive taxis now?"

He smiled but couldn't pull off Dmitri's effortless charm . . . and he definitely couldn't pull off the dangerous sensuality of the archangel who seemed determined to turn their "relationship"-hah!-sexual.

It'd be a cold day in Lucifer's personal kingdom before that happened. Sex was not on the menu. And neither was Elena.

Raphael watched the taxi pull away, surprised she'd taken it. Elena was proving the most unpredictable of all those under his command. Of course, she'd argue with that description, he thought, amused in the way only a lethally powerful immortal could be.