Archangel's Kiss (Guild Hunter #2)(9)

Her own thighs clenched as the water lapped around her, disturbed by a body far bigger and stronger than her own. She held her breath as he came closer, until he braced his hands against the rock on either side of her. Spreading out her wings so he could press against her back, she sucked in a breath. “Raphael, that’s not helping matters.”

The heat of his cock pulsed against her skin, a living brand, even as her wings arrowed sensation straight to the liquid-soft core of her body. An instant later, his lips touched her ear. “You torture me, Elena.” Teeth closing over her flesh, a none too gentle bite.

She yelped, the sound high, startled. “What was that for?”

“I’ve been celibate for over a year, Guild Hunter.” One big hand boldly cupped her breast, his fingers strong, unmistakably male against her flesh. “Need is rubbing on my temper.”

“What, you didn’t sink your cock into a vampire honey while I was out?”

Raphael pinched her nipple just hard enough to let her know she’d crossed a line. “You think so little of my honor?” Ice hung in the air.

“I’m jealous and frustrated,” she said, reaching back to press her palm against his cheek. “And I know I look like shit.” While vampires past their first few decades of life were beyond stunning, their skin unblemished, their bodies sleek. Very few humans ever came close to sleeping with an angel—they were simply outclassed.

Raphael skimmed his hand down her side. “It’s true you’ve lost a little weight, but I still want to f*ck you mindless.”





4




Her brain blanked for several seconds. When she could speak, it came out a breathy moan. “You’re trying to kill me.”

A squeeze of her breast, the skin so tight the pleasure was almost pain. “It’s a much better form of punishment than tearing you limb from limb.”

“Can’t have sex with a dead woman, huh?”

“Precisely.”

Flames licked along her spine as he stroked both hands downward, sweeping his thumbs over the taut flesh of her buttocks. “Half the time, I’m not certain if you’re being serious or not.”

His fingers paused in their sensual torment. “Are you sure you wish me to know that? It’s a weakness.”

“Someone’s got to take the first step.” Lifting her foot, she ran it up behind his calf.

A kiss pressed to the beat of the pulse in her neck. “Such honesty will not serve you well among angelkind.”

“What about with you?”

“I’m used to utilizing what I know to maintain power.”

Elena leaned her chin on her hands, letting him ease the knots along the edges where her wings grew out of her back. It felt exquisite—so good she knew she’d never let another man touch her there, even in friendship. It would be a betrayal. “You’re being pretty honest yourself.”

“Perhaps between us,” he said slowly, as if considering the matter, “it may not be a weakness but a strength.”

Surprised, she turned her head. “Really? Then tell me something about yourself.”

He pressed his thumb into a particularly tight spot and she moaned, dropping her head onto her hands. “Lord have mercy.”

“It’s not the Lord you should be asking for mercy.” His tone held a possessive undercurrent that was becoming intimately familiar. “What would you like to know?”

She picked the first thing that came into her mind. “Are your parents still alive?”

Everything froze. The temperature of the water dipped so fast, she gasped for breath, her heart kicking out in panic. “Raphael!”

“Again, I must apologize.” A breath of heat against her neck, the water warming until her skin was no longer in danger of turning corpse-blue. “Who have you been talking to?”

The water might’ve warmed, but his voice remained an Arctic breeze. “No one. Asking about parents is a fairly normal activity.”

“Not when it’s my parents you’re asking about.” He pressed his body flush against hers, his arms coming around her waist.

She had the strangest feeling he was seeking comfort. It was such an odd thought to have about a being who held within him a power so vast, she could scarcely comprehend it, but she didn’t hesitate to put her arms around his, trusting him to hold her upright in the water. “I’m sorry if I opened old wounds.”



Old wounds.



Yes, Raphael thought, breathing in the scent of his hunter, the wildness barely contained beneath her skin. He’d wondered what Elena would do to a race of immortals—this mortal who’d made him a little bit human even as she became immortal. But he’d never stopped to wonder what she’d do to him.

“My father,” he said, surprising himself with the words, “died a long time ago.”

Flames everywhere, his father’s scream of rage, his mother’s tears. Salt on his lips. His own tears. He’d watched his mother kill his father and he’d cried. He’d been a boy, a true child, even among angelkind.

“I’m sorry.”

“It was an eternity ago.” And it was only in those rare moments when his shields fell that he remembered. Today, Elena had caught him unawares. His mind had flooded with the last images he had, not of his father but of his mother, her delicate feet walking lightly over grass stained with her own son’s life-blood. She’d been so beautiful, so gifted that angels had fought and died for her. Even at the end, as she crooned over Raphael’s fallen, broken body, her beauty had outshone the sun itself.