Angels' Blood (Guild Hunter #1)(44)

"And that's supposed to make me feel happy about you shoving a fork in my direction?"

He scooped up a piece of the fish, making sure to coat it with the sauce, which looked tauntingly delicious. "Until Raphael wakes, I'm constrained against hurting you. He gave me a direct order not to. The others aren't subject to such orders. I hand them this fork and walk out that door, and you'll understand a whole new meaning to the word 'pain.' "

She blew out a breath. "Free my hands at least-you know I can't hurt you without weapons."

"I do that, you're dead." He lifted the fork toward her mouth. "You're alive right now because I'm keeping the others from you. If they think you can manipulate me . . ."

She didn't trust him an inch. But she was starving and she was a hunter-she knew a hunger strike would achieve nothing while weakening her. She opened her mouth. The fish was as delicious as it looked. But she held it in her mouth for almost a minute, tasting carefully. Only when she was satisfied it was clean, did she swallow. "No narcotics?"

"Unnecessary. It's not like you can fly." He fed her a bite of potato. "And Raphael will want to see you as soon as he wakes."

"His wings?"

Dmitri raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you care."

She couldn't see any point in lying. "I do. I only meant to get away from him-he was acting really weird." She ate. "I mean, he's immortal. It should've just given me enough time to get a head start."

"True." He fed her another forkful, sliding out the tines more slowly than was warranted. When she narrowed her eyes, he gave her that cool, dangerous smile that never reached his eyes. "Which is why you've just gone from hunter to the number one threat to angels."

"Oh, please." She shook her head when he offered her broccoli. Smiling, he ate it, then fed her a forkful of peas instead. She ate, thought it over. "That kind of a gun's been used before." It couldn't be a secret, not if it had been fired against angels.

"Yes. We know of it. It causes temporary damage." He shrugged. "The archangels apparently find it a fair weapon, given that humans have few other ways to combat angels who get too pushy."

"Maybe it was a bad angle," she murmured. "Did I hit a major artery or something?" She knew all about vampire biology, but angels were another matter altogether. "Enough," she said when he offered her another bite.

He put down the fork. "You'll have to ask Raphael those questions-if you still have your tongue, of course." Getting up, he disappeared a second time, returning with a bottle of water.

After drinking and managing not to dribble, she looked at him again. Still darkly sexy, still an inch away from ripping out her throat. "Thanks."

His answer was to lay one finger against the pulse in her neck. "So strong, rich and sweetly potent. I look forward to my own dinner-too bad it's not you."

Then he was gone.

Elena watched the door with absolute focus as she began twisting in her chair, determined to get out of the ropes. Dmitri was protecting her against the others right now, but who knew how long that would last.

The only problem was, the ropes had been tied by an apparent master.

But with a master of the art, all pain is pleasure.

Bondage, that figured. Dmitri probably liked to tie his women up in all sorts of interesting positions. Her face flushed. She didn't want him-not when he wasn't throwing out that damn scent like a lure. But she melted the instant he turned on that talent of his.

She didn't like melting against her own will.

Not even for an archangel.

Her jaw clenched at the memory of what had taken place in Raphael's office. Now that she'd shot him, she felt a bit better about the whole incident. Like she'd evened the score. Of course, he probably took a dimmer view of the whole affair. He'd only tried to get her in bed-and try as she might to convince herself otherwise, she'd enjoyed the seduction . . . at least until it got to the mind-control part. In return, she might've crippled him.

Dear God, she'd destroyed half his wing.

Her eyes smarted and she realized she was horrifically close to tears. Blinking rapidly, she banished the unwelcome emotion. Hunters didn't cry. Not even for an archangel. But-what if he didn't recover?

Her guilt twisted into a heavy knot in her stomach, getting tighter and hotter and more destructive with every passing second. She had to get to him, see for herself how he was doing. "No hope in hell," she muttered, knowing that if she'd been in Dmitri's position, she'd have done the exact same thing in isolating the possible threat.

Arms straining and calf muscles aching, she gave up trying to undo the bonds and relaxed into the chair. She wasn't going to be able to sleep but she could try to rest enough that when Raphael woke and the showdown began, she'd be ready. But just as her muscles began to loosen, she remembered the gaping hole in her apartment wall. "Dmitri!"

He appeared a minute later and, from the look on his face, he was in no way pleased. "You called, my lady?" Had the words been any sharper, they would've drawn blood.

Blood.

Was she trying to get herself killed? "I interrupted your . . . dinner. I'm sorry."

He smiled, revealing no hint of the fangs she knew were there. "Are you offering yourself in reparation?"