Archangel's Legion (Guild Hunter #6)(103)

No, Galen, Venom, and the squadron must remain to guard against a possible Refuge strike. Raphael would have access to Galen’s warrior mind, and Venom’s slyly inventive one, through the constant communications link between the Tower and the Refuge stronghold.

Jason, Naasir, Illium, Dmitri, and Aodhan, they were a formidable force. He knew each would fight with the fury of a thousand ordinary fighters. But as he’d pointed out to Elena, Lijuan, too, had men and women of power by her side. Even with the assistance Elijah had pledged, Raphael’s troops would have to fight with cunning and intelligence to balance the enemy’s greater numbers and strength.

That, however, was a conversation that didn’t have to take place right this instant.

“Go to your princess, Jason,” he told his spymaster. “We’ll talk of the rest come dawn.”

He felt the door open at his back even as Jason took off in silence, a winged piece of the night, and turned to hold out his arm. A sleepy-eyed Elena came into his embrace, the satin of her robe cool against his skin. “Jason?”

Enclosing her in his wings to protect her from the cold, he said, “He brought the news we expected.”

The sleep faded from her expression as he told her what Jason had shared. “I know this is a fight between immortals,” she said, “but I think you’d be remiss not to accept those from the Guild who want to join in the defense. This is a Guild city, too, home of our HQ.”

Raphael had, in truth, not thought of the hunters, dismissing the mortals from the field of battle as too weak, too easily broken. As Elena had once been broken . . . but before that, she’d fought with such heart as even an archangel couldn’t fault.

“Ask Sara to join us in the war room tomorrow morning—she can disseminate the news to her hunters.” He paused. “Ask Deacon, too.” The mortal male was a genius with weaponry, could well come up with innovative strategies on how they could best utilize the weapons at their disposal.

“Can we go out, meet Lijuan’s forces midway?” Elena asked, thinking like the warrior she was. “Rather than letting them hit the city, I mean.”

“Dmitri, Galen, and I gave the option serious consideration, but with our forces weakened, we’re already in a compromised position. Should our people fall in battle over the sea, we may not be able to retrieve them in time.” Meaning loss after loss. “Inside Manhattan, in comparison, we can set up a defensive perimeter, giving us a secure base from which to launch our attacks.”

“What about the rest of the city?”

“I don’t think this is about sacking New York or causing carnage. Lijuan wishes to display her power—to do that, she needs to take the Tower and either kill or subjugate me to her will.” Soft, heavy snowflakes hitting his wings. “Inside.”

Not arguing, Elena walked in and, dropping the robe, jumped under the comforter.

He kicked off his pants and slid in beside her, running his knuckles from her breastbone to her navel. “To reduce the number of possible casualties, I’ll be ordering the evacuation of all humans except Guild personnel who wish to stay.”

Her eyes widened. “All of Manhattan? How can that be done?”

“Illium has taken the lead in the planning and tells me he foresees no problems.”

“Some people won’t want to leave.”

“They won’t have a choice.” Cupping her between the legs without warning, he caught her gasp with his kiss. “Enough talk of battle. Right now, I need my consort.”

The stark statement melted Elena’s bones. Closing her fingers over his nape as her flesh grew warm and damp against his fingers, she tugged him down for a slow, sipping kiss, as if they were two people on a first date . . . but for the fact that he had his hand between her legs, and his thumb was brushing across her clit in a slow, erotic tease.

Wrapping her leg over his hip, she played her fingers through his hair and continued to kiss him soft and sweet. “Come inside me,” she whispered, needing the intoxicating physical connection.

He removed his hand to shift over her, his wings spread in magnificent display. “You are wet for me, hbeebti.” It was an intimate murmur in the dark, the blunt head of his cock pressing against her sensitive entrance.

“So wet for you.” She shivered as he began to push inside her, thick and hard and insistent, her hands splaying on the tensile muscle of his back.

One arm braced beside her head, the hand of his other possessive on her breast, he molded her flesh with erotic confidence and continued to push inside. The intense slide of heated steel across her delicate tissues made her moan, her back arching.

He paused the inexorable pressure to claim a kiss, his tongue tasting her deep, before holding her gaze and thrusting the final thick inch into the tight clasp of her body. They both shuddered, locked together as close as two bodies could get—then his mouth touched her throat and her lips his shoulder, as his hand slid off her breast to caress her thigh.

It was a slow, tender dance, their bodies rocking together as they kissed and touched and murmured to one another in the dark. “Knhebek, Archangel,” she said at the end, pleasure a languorous ripple in her blood and her lover’s skin rough heat over her own.

“Elena.” The masculine groan made her clench around his cock, the hot pulse of his seed marking her in a primal claim.