Archangel's Consort (Guild Hunter #3)(15)

However, it wasn’t a soul ess place. In contrast to the relatively modern furniture, a tapestry depicting the rich hues of some ancient court adorned the living room, while when she pushed open the door to the sprawling bedroom, she glimpsed a painting on the wall to the left and—

She whipped her head around.

The painting was a ful -length portrait of her, knives in hand, wings spread, and feet planted in a combat-ready stance as her hair flew off her face in a playful wind. The artist had captured her with her head tilted slightly to the side, a smile of mingled chall enge and desire on her face, laughter in her eyes.

Behind her lay the mountainous beauty of the Refuge, and in front of her ... That wasn’t in the portrait but she knew. It could only have been Raphael in front of her. She looked at no other that way.

Her fingers lifted of their own accord, touched the thick strokes of oil paint, vibrant with color. She had no idea when it had been painted, was unbearably curious about it, but that curiosity, she thought, dropping her hand, would have to wait. The strange chill pervading these rooms only intensified her need to find Raphael.

Pulling out her cel phone, she called their home over the water. “Montgomery,” she said when the butler answered, “is Raphael there?”

“No, Guild Hunter. The Sire has not returned home as of yet.”

“If he does, can you cal —”

Keeping tabs on me?

Shivers running up her spine, Elena closed her cel phone and turned to the bedroom doorway ... to see an archangel with eyes of liquid metal and wings outlined by the lethal stroke of power. His hair, black as the heart of midnight, was wind-tousled, his body magnificent, but it was his eyes that held her.

In those eyes, she saw age, cruelty, and pain.

So much pain.

“Raphael.” She closed the distance between them, ignoring the cold that raised every hair on her body. “I was worried about you.”

I am an archangel.

Unsaid were the words that he found the worry of a woman who’d been mortal not long ago—who was still not a true immortal—laughable.

She refused to let him intimidate her. They’d made promises to each other, she and her archangel. She wasn’t about to stumble at the first hurdle—

even if her pulse thudded hard and uneven in her throat, the animal part of her brain recognizing that this predator had no mercy in him.

Reaching him, she tilted back her head, met the intensity of his gaze. The metal ic shade was so inhuman it hurt, her eyes tearing up in instinctive defense. Blinking, she looked away.

You give in so easily.

The weight of the cold confidence she heard in him was daunting, but she’d always known he’d never be an easy man to love. “If you think I’ve given in, Archangel, you don’t know me at all .” Flicking away the tears, she stepped close enough that her breasts brushed his chest.

Electricity arced between them, a white-hot whip.

And the archangel came to life. Thrusting a hand into her hair, he tugged back her head to take her mouth in a kiss that was both a claiming and a warning. He was in no temper to play.

Neither was she.

Twisting her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with the same raw passion, stroking her tongue against his in deliberate provocation—

because no matter how hot he burned, Raphael’s hunger she could handle. It was when he went cold, cloaking himself in the arrogance of power beyond mortal ken, that she thought she might lose him. Even as the thought passed through her mind, she sensed a change in his kiss, a subtle but unmistakable control. Not happening, Archangel, she thought and bit down hard on his lower lip, knowing it would set him off in this mood.

His hand tightened in her hair, wrenching back her head. Do you think you are safe? He pushed his free hand up under her tank top at the same time, long, strong fingers closing over her breast in blatant possession.

“Safe?” Gasping in a breath, she ran her own fingers along the part of his right wing she could reach. “Maybe not.” But I’ve always wanted to dance with you anyway.

He squeezed and molded her sensitive flesh. Then dance.

Her top was suddenly gone, torn off her body to leave her upper half bare. Spreading her unfettered wings, she tugged at his shirt. It disintegrated off him the next instant, and she found herself skin to skin with an archangel burning with a cold white flame.

Real fear spiked for the first time.

She’d never tangled with him when he was like this, never been so close to the deadly strength of him that she could feel the icy burn of it against her flesh. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying. Ignoring the fear, she moved closer ... and rubbed the softness of her bel y against the hard ridge of his erection.

Raphael shifted their positions without warning, slamming her back against the wall , her wings spread out on either side of her. She sucked in a breath and then he was taking it from her in the most primal of kisses as he tore off her remaining clothes, leaving her naked and vulnerable. When he put his hands under her thighs and lifted, it was instinct to wrap her legs around his waist.

The cold, cold burn of his power kissed her in her most sensitive place.





Chapter 6





Shuddering, she broke the kiss. He refused to let her go, pulling her mouth back to his with the hand he had fisted in her hair. It should’ve scared her, but all it did was make her more determined to win this battle, to bring Raphael back from the abyss she could see in the wintry black of his eyes. She’d seen many colors in those eyes, but never that vast, forsaken darkness.