Archangel's Consort (Guild Hunter #3)(64)

Oh, yes. Then, as the storm continued to rage outside, she took her archangel, slow and deep, and again, until the crashing wildness of pleasure swept them both under.





Chapter 22





The next day, having received a message early that morning, Elena found herself flying down to land in front of a gated home in the Palisades area.

Set back from the street and shaded with perfectly manicured greenery, it shrieked of money. Even the architecture—old, elegant, timeless—told her she was looking at something that had cost in the mil ions.

I could afford this.

It was a startling thought. She kept forgetting that she was rich now, that the Cadre—through Raphael—had paid her the fee they’d agreed on when she had “accepted” the Uram mission. Snorting at the memory of exactly how she’d been dragged into the whole bloody mess, she folded back her wings and stared at the glossy black door of the home only a few feet away.

Narrow. Too narrow for angelic wings.

It was stupid to feel rejected. Her sister Beth had lived here with her husband, Harrison, since the day they had married—both had been human at the time. Then Harrison had applied to be Made a vampire, been accepted . . . and broken the century-long contract of service he’d signed on for as a condition of being Made. Elena was the hunter who’d brought him back to face his punishment. Harrison didn’t understand that he couldn’t hide for eternity, that the longer it took for his angel to track him down, the worse the price he’d have had to pay.

As a result of Harrison’s antipathy, Elena had never been invited inside Beth’s home. She didn’t begrudge her sister for standing by her husband, had done her best to make sure Beth knew that. However, by the same token, she refused to disappear from Beth’s life. No matter what, her sister knew she could pick up the phone and Elena would come.

The door flew open at that instant, revealing a gorgeous strawberry blonde dressed in what appeared to be a cashmere sweater in cream paired with a polka-dotted knee-length skirt, the shape ful and feminine. “Ellie!” Her sister ran. “Ellie!”

As she caught Beth’s smaller, softer body, Elena felt time unravel, scrol ing backward until they were children again. Beth had always been the baby, and she’d toddled around after Elena as Elena had in her turn toddled around after Ari and Bel e. Now, of the four children Marguerite had borne, only two remained—and Elena had become the big sister. “Hey, Bethie.”

Beth’s arms remained locked around Elena, her face damp against Elena’s neck. “You didn’t come see me first. You’re supposed to come see me first!”

Another bittersweet reminder of childhood, Beth’s insistence that she come first in Elena’s life. “I thought you just got back today? Weren’t you in the Caymans?”

A sniffle. “You have wings. You could’ve flown to me.” Pulling away at last, Beth reached out and touched the upper curve of Elena’s wing.

It was a sensitive spot, a place she allowed Raphael alone to caress. “Lower, Beth,” she said with conscious gentleness.

Beth shifted her hold at once—forever the younger sister, used to taking orders. “They’re so pretty, Ellie.” Sweet words, shining eyes of a translucent turquoise that had come from Marguerite, a single moment uncolored by the choices they’d both made. “I’m glad you have wings. You always wanted to fly.”

A flash of memory, Elena in her homemade cape, “flying” after a giggling Beth. It was impossible not to smile. “How are you?”

A shrug, her hand falling away. “Okay.”

Worried by the muted response from a sister who’d always been vibrant, if not a little high-strung, Elena brushed Beth’s hair away from her face. “You know you can talk to me. Have I ever let you down?”

“You turned my husband in to his angel.” Open petulance.

“Beth.” Harry had chosen his fate when he asked to be Made—and unlike Vivek, he’d been healthy as a human, could well have lived the ful span of a mortal life. If the servitude he’d signed on for now grated, he had no one to blame but himself.

Beth’s sul en expression broke, her face seeming to col apse in on itself as she began to cry in great, gulping sobs. Shattered by her sister’s pain, Elena took Beth into her arms and rocked her. “Talk to me, Bethie. Tell me what’s wrong.” So I can fix it.

It was what she did, a self-imposed duty.

Even after Jeffrey had thrown her out of the Big House, Elena had checked in every week with Beth, made sure her sister was okay. Beth, too, had stuck by Elena in her own way. When Jeffrey had dumped Elena’s things out on the street, it had been sweet, compliant Beth who’d gone out and saved Elena’s most important treasures from the elements. She’d done it in secret, but she had done it.

“I’m not as strong as you, Ellie.” Whispered words as they stood hidden in the shadow of the Big House. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” Taking her sister into her arms, holding her tight. “It’s okay. I’m strong enough for both of us.”

Now, Elena pressed her lips to her sister’s temple. “Beth?”

“Oh, Ellie.” Beth pulled away with a hiccup. Using a handkerchief to dab at her face, she managed to look beautiful even with eyes rimmed in red and a nose that had gone raw at the tip. “They won’t Make me, Ellie. That was always the plan, that Harry and I, we’d both become immortal and then we’d be together forever, but they said they won’t Make me.”