"And the Bitch Goddess is another archangel, so theywere equals."
A nod of his head that was more thought than movement. He was so damn beautiful that it made thinking difficult, even when she knew he possessed a vein of ruthlessness that was sewn into the fabric of his very soul. That ruthlessness translated into a furious kind of control in bed, the kind that made a woman scream, her skin too tight across a body that knew only hunger.
"Who are the other two?" she asked, swallowing the spike of gut-deep need. He'd held her since she woke, his embrace strong, powerful, and at times, heartbreakingly tender.
But today, her body craved a far darker touch.
"Elijah and Hannah." His eyes glittered, turning to a shade she'd once seen in an artist's studio.Prussian . That's what it was called, Prussian blue. Rich. Exotic. Earthy in a way she'd never have believed an angel to be until she found herself taken by the Archangel of New York.
"You will heal, Elena. Then I will teach you how angels dance."
Her mouth dried up at the slumbering heat in that outwardly calm statement. "Elijah?"
she prompted, her voice husky, an invitation.
He continued to hold her gaze, his lips at once sensual and without pity. "He and Hannah have been together centuries. Though she's grown in power over time, it is said that she's content to be his helpmeet."
She had to think for a while about that old-fashioned expression. "The wind beneath his wings?"
"If you like." His face was suddenly all hard lines and angles - male beauty in its purest, most merciless form. "You will not fade."
She didn't know if that was an accusation or an order. "No, I won't." Even as she spoke, she was vividly conscious that she'd have to use every ounce of her will to maintain her personality against the incredible strength of Raphael's.
He began tapping that envelope again, the action precise, deliberate. "As of today, you're on a deadline. You need to be on your feet and in the air in just over two months' time."
"Why?" she asked, even as delight bubbled through her bloodstream.
Prussian blue froze into black ice. "Lijuan is giving a ball in your honor."
"We're talking about Zhou Lijuan, the oldest of the archangels?" The bubbles went flat, lifeless. "She's . . . different."
"Yes. She has evolved." A hint of midnight whispered through his tone; shadows so thick they were almost corporeal. "She's no longer wholly of this world."
Her skin prickled, because for an immortal to say that . . . "Why would she hold a ball for me? She doesn't know me from Adam."
"On the contrary, Elena. The entire Cadre of Ten knows who you are - we hired you after all."
The idea of the most powerful body in the world being interested in her made her break out in a cold sweat. It didn't help that Raphael was one of them. She knew what he was capable of, the power he wielded, how easy it would be for him to cross the line into true evil. "Only nine now," she said.
"Uram's dead. Unless you found a replacement while I was in a coma?"
"No. Human time means little to us." The casual indifference of an immortal. "As for Lijuan, it's about power - she wants to see my little pet, see my weakness."
Chapter 2
His pet. His weakness.
"Her words or yours?"
"Does it matter?" A negligent shrug. "It's true."
She threw the knife with deadly accuracy. Raphael caught it in midair - by the blade. His blood flowed scarlet against the gold of his skin. "Was it not you who bled the last time?"
he asked conversationally as he dropped the knife to the formerly pristine white carpet and tightened his hand into a fist. The blood flow halted within a single second.
"You made me close my hand over a blade." Her heart was still racing from witnessing the sheer speed of him. Dear God. And she'd taken this man to her bed. Craved him even now.
"Hmm." He rose to his feet, walked to her.
At that moment, though he'd said he'd never hurt her, she wasn't so sure. Her fingers clenched on the sheets as he came to sit in front of her, one of his wings lying over her legs. It was a warm, surprisingly heavy weight. Angel wings weren't for show - as she was beginning to learn, they were pure muscle and tendon over bone, and like any other muscle, they had to be strengthened prior to use. Before, she'd only had to worry about tripping if she overtired herself. Now, she had to worry about falling out of the sky.
But that wasn't the danger that danced in front of her eyes right then.
No, all she saw was blue.
Never before Raphael had blue meant the color of sin, of seduction. Of pain.
He leaned in, brushed her hair from her neck with fingers that could bring pleasure so excruciating it hurt . . . and pressed a kiss to the ragged beat of her pulse. It made her shiver, and she found she'd tangled her hands in his hair. He kissed her again, causing the warmth in her stomach to uncoil with lazy grace through her body, demand in every slow pulse.
When something glittered at the edge of her vision, she realized he was covering her in angel dust, a decadent, delicious substance that mortals paid enormous amounts to possess. But Raphael had a special blend just for her. As she breathed in the motes, the seduction intensified, until all she could think of was sex, the ache in her wings, even her anger, forgotten.
"Yes," he whispered against her mouth. "I think you'll intrigue me through eternity."
It should've shattered the moment, but it didn't. Not when there was such erotic promise in his eyes, in the tone of his voice. She found herself trying to draw him closer, but his jaw tightened. "No, Elena. I'll break you." A blunt statement. A truth. "Read this."