Perhaps she'll remain content to play with her reborn inside her court."
"Perhaps." And perhaps Lijuan would decide to unleash her armies, become the literal embodiment of the demigoddess she already was in her homeland. But this goddess would bring only death, her reborn feasting on the flesh of the living as she watched with smiling indulgence.
It was, Elena later thought, inevitable that she'd dream that night. She could feel the past pulling at her with hands dipped in blood. She fought, kicked out, but still they dragged her down that black corridor, down the curving path her father had laid stone by stone one hazy summer, and into the bright white kitchen her mother had kept spotless.
Marguerite was at the counter. "Bebe, why are you standing there? Come, I will make youchocolat. "
Elena felt her lower lip tremble, her feet hesitate. "Mama?"
"Of course, who else would it be?" A laugh, so familiar, so generous. "Shut the door before the cold gets in."
It was impossible not to reach behind herself, not to close the door. Her hand, she was startled to see, was that of a child, small, marked with the nicks and cuts of a girl who'd rather climb trees than play with dolls. She turned back, terrified the miracle would fade, so scared that it'd be the monster looking back at her.
But it was Marguerite's face she met, her mother's eyes quizzical as she knelt before Elena. "Why so sad,azeeztee ? Hmm?" Long, gifted fingers tucking Elena's hair behind her ears.
Marguerite knew only a few words in Moroccan Arabic, faint remembrances of the mother she'd lost in childhood. The sound of one of those precious memories made Elena believe. "Mama, I missed you so much."
Hands stroking down her back, holding her close until the tears passed and Elena could force herself to shift back a tiny step, to look down into that beloved face. It was Marguerite who looked sad now, her silver eyes wet with sorrow. "I'm sorry,bebe . So sorry."
The dream fractured, bleeding at the edges. "Mama, no."
"You were always the strong one." A kiss pressed to her forehead. "I wish I could save you from what's coming."
Elena stared frantically as the room began to collapse, trails of dark red liquid creeping down the walls. "We have to go outside!" She grabbed her mother's hand, tried to pull her through the doorway.
But Marguerite wouldn't come, her face fierce with warning even as the blood dripped to touch her bare feet. "Be ready, Ellie. It's not over."
"Mama, outside! Come outside!"
"Ah,cherie , you know I never left this room."
Raphael rocked his hunter as she cried into his chest, her vulnerability a knife in his heart. He had no words with which to assuage her grief, but he murmured her name until she seemed to see him, until she seemed to know him.
"Kiss me, Archangel." It was a ragged whisper.
"As you wish, Guild Hunter." He thrust his hand into her hair, pressed his lips to hers, and took her over. She still wasn't strong enough to bear the savage depths of his hunger, but he could give her the oblivion she sought - even if the control required meant a violent amplification of the sexual agony already threatening to drive him to madness. He would not hurt her, would not take what she wasn't ready to give.
Shifting on the bed, he pressed his body along hers, letting her feel the heavy weight of his possession.The nightmares have no claim on you, Elena. You belong to me.
Eyes of liquid mercury glittered back at him, filled with a roiling storm of emotion.
"Then take me."
"Or I could simply tease you." And he did, driving her to a fever pitch with his kiss, with his fingers, with the unrelenting demand of his need to vanquish her nightmares.
Her body was slick on his fingers, her skin damp with perspiration, her eyes blind with arousal when he finally pushed her over. "Raphael!" Her spine went taut as pleasure rushed through her in an overwhelming wave, a pleasure all the more vicious for being denied so long.
He felt his own skin begin to burn with power, his cock pulsing with the need to drive into her until he was all she knew, all she saw. Gritting his teeth, he buried his face in her neck, fighting for control . . . and realized the brutal satisfaction of her body had shoved her into unconsciousness.
Chapter 11
Five days after Raphael had loved her into merciful oblivion, Elena found herself sitting in a quiet, sunlit garden. The dreams hadn't returned since that night, but she could feel them heavy on the horizon, a storm she wasn't ready to face. If she hadn't had the pitiless discipline of Dmitri's brand of training to keep her occupied, her mind might have beaten itself into insanity in an effort to escape the constant pressure. Because oddly, the Refuge had gone quiet, too, the assault on Noel a seeming aberration.
However, Raphael's anger hadn't abated a fraction. "Nazarach denies involvement,"
he'd said to her last night as he played his fingers down the plane of her stomach. "I could break his mind, but if he's telling the truth, I'd have to kill him, losing one of the strongest angels in my territory."
Elena had swallowed at the ease with which he spoke of tearing open the other angel's mind, an angel another hunter had once described to Elena as a "monster who'd probably smile as he fucked you to death." "Nazarach would turn against you?"
"As you would if I did the same to you, Elena." His hand played with the top edge of her panties. "I must have proof - or I stand to lose not only his loyalty, but also that of the other strong angels who look to me."
She gripped his wrist, squeezed. Always he gave. Her body wanted him to take. But there was a warning in his gaze, a passion so dark she knew she wasn't ready, wasn't strong enough. Not yet. "Do you need him to hold power?"
He flattened his hand on her abdomen, dipping his head to take her lips in a lazy kiss that made her toes curl into the sheets. Easing them both down from the razor-sharp edge of hunger. "No."
It took her two long seconds to find the breath to reply. "Then?"
"Humans need him, Elena." An almost gentle reminder.
She saw the nightmare he was trying to spare her. "The only reason more vampires don't give in to bloodlust is because an angel has them on a leash."
"And even an archangel can't control every single vampire within his borders. I'd have to slaughter them all if they turned to blood." A raised eyebrow. "Such shadows in your eyes. What do you know of Nazarach?"
"Another hunter did a track for him a while back." Ashwini had refused point-blank to return to Atlanta when an unrelated job came up. "She said his house was full of screams, full of a pain that could drive the sane into hell itself. He apparently took two female vampires to his bed for no reason but to punish their men."
"Vampires choose their eternity when they choose to be Made." A silky answer.
And one she couldn't argue with. Even her sister, Beth, had attempted to be accepted as a Candidate, though she'd witnessed her husband's barbaric punishment at the hands of the angel he called master. "Do you believe Nazarach?"
"He lies with ease, but he's not the only one arrogant enough to believe he can become an archangel."
"Who else is in the Refuge, or was at the time?" They'd both agreed that the instigator would've been close enough to witness - to revel in - the results of his actions.
"Dahariel?" That emotionless gaze, akin to that of the bird of prey whose wings he bore, had spoken of an icily rational mind, able to justify any act if it led to a successful outcome.
A nod. "Also Anoushka, Neha's daughter, has been here for several weeks."
Neha, the Queen of Poisons, of Snakes.
Shivering to think of what her offspring might be capable of, Elena picked up one of the volumes Jessamy had given her and turned her mind to the present, to the prettiness of her surroundings. She'd never have found this secret garden without the blue-winged angel sprawled by her side.
Wildflowers bloomed in bold abandonment, gleefully surrounding the marble pavilion where they'd chosen to sit. The pavilion itself was simple yet elegant in design - four columns holding up a roof that had been carved in faithful imitation of a silk tent from the Arabian lands. "It's way too cold for these flowers." She touched the cheerful pumpkin-colored petals of one that brushed against her thigh as she sat with her feet hanging over the edge.
"The flowers began blooming without warning a month ago." Illium shrugged. "We enjoy them - why question such a gift?"
"I see your point." Opening the book, she spread her wings on the cool marble. With her muscle strength increasing day by day, they no longer seemed a burden but a natural extension of her self. "It says here that the Archangel Wars began because of a dispute over territory."
Illium sat up from his lazy sprawl, his hair tumbling messily over one eye. "That's the whitewashed version for our children," he said, pushing it back. "The truth, as always, is far more human. It all began with a woman."
"Oh yeah?" She made no effort to hide her skepticism.
His smile was a wicked tease. "I'm going to fly. Call if you need me."
She watched him walk to the edge of a rocky cliff, sweep off in a wave of exquisite silver blue. Then, frowning, she thought,Raphael .
The answer came in a split second.Yes , he said,it did begin over a woman .
Elena almost ripped the page in her hand.How long have you been listening in? He hadn't once forced her to act against her will since their silent understanding high above the Refuge, but this - the violation of her thoughts, her secrets - it was as bad. Maybe worse. Because she'd trusted him with her pain, chosen to expose a part of herself she kept tightly held.
We are one, Elena.
"I don't think so." If it had gone both ways, she might've been able to accept it. But it didn't. And she'd fought too hard for her right to be who she was to resign herself to the situation. Taking a deep breath, she shoved mentally outward with all her willpower.
Elena, what are you -
Sudden silence.Raphael?
Nothing. No scent of rain inside her head. A scent she hadn't realized she'd been smelling until it was gone. There was no headache, not immediately, but she began to feel the strain after an hour of reading about the wars. It said that Titus had sided with Neha and Nadiel, while Charisemnon had fought beside Antonicus. Lijuan had remained impartial. "Nadiel, Antonicus," she said under her breath, having never before heard those names.
Reaching up to rub at her throbbing temple, she turned the page. The lovingly detailed image took her breath away. The woman's face was a study in purity, her eyes an impossible blue Elena had seen on only one other being, her hair dark as the night . . .
dark as Raphael's. "Caliane," she read. "Archangel of Sumeria."
A shooting pain down her neck, and she knew it was time to drop the shield. She'd held it far longer than she'd been able to as a mortal, but not long enough - so she'd have to save it for those secrets she couldn't bear to expose to the world, couldn't even bear to expose to herself.
The scent of wind, of the rain, didn't immediately reappear. But another scent did.
A sensual exotic musk layered with the delicate touch of the rarest of orchids.
