"Every last penny."
It took her a second to realize what that meant. "Wow." The deposit had been more money than she could've hoped to make in a lifetime. And it had been a mere twenty-five percent of the total. "I think 'filthy rich' might be an understatement."
"Yeah. But you did complete the job he hired you to do, which I'm guessing had something to do with that fight with Uram?"
Elena bit her lip. Raphael had been explicit in his warning about all information connected to the sadistic monster who'd killed and tortured so many - any mortal she told would die. No exceptions. Perhaps that had changed now, but she wasn't going to chance her best friend's life on the faith of a relationship she barely understood. "I can't tell you, Sara."
"You'll tell me all these other secrets but not this one?" Sara didn't sound pissed, she sounded intrigued. "Interesting."
"Don't go digging that way." Elena's stomach pitched as her mind put on a nausea-inducing slideshow of the horror that had been Uram. That last room . . . the stench of rotting flesh, the gleam of blood-soaked bone, the slimy pulp of the eyes he'd dug out of a dying vampire's skull.
Steeling her spine against the bile burning the back of her throat, she tried to imbue her voice with the depth of her worry. "It's bad news."
"I don't have a death wis - ah, Zoe's awake." Maternal love filled every syllable. "And look at that, so is Deacon. Zoe's daddy wakes to her slightest cry, doesn't he, sweetie pie?"
Elena drew in a cleansing breath, the loving images created by Sara's words banishing those of Uram's depravity. "I think you guys are getting more sickening with each day."
"My baby's almost one and a half now, Ellie," Sara whispered. "I want you to see her."
"I will." It was a promise. "I'm going to learn to use these wings if it kills me." Her eye fell on Lijuan's invitation as the words left her mouth, death closing a skeletal hand around her throat.
Chapter 3
However, a week after her conversation with Sara, Elena found herself thinking not of death but of vengeance. "I knew you were into pain, but I didn't know you were a sadist,"
she said to Dmitri's back, her bones melting into the luscious heat of the isolated hot spring the damn vampire had all but carried her to - after pounding her ass to dust in a training session meant to toughen her muscles.
Turning, he focused the full power of those dark eyes on her, eyes that could tempt an innocent into sin, a sinner into hell itself. "When," he murmured in a voice that spoke of closed doors and broken taboos, "have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"
Fur stroked over her lips, between her legs, along her back.
Her skin tightened in response to the potency of his scent, a scent that was an aphrodisiac to one of the hunter-born, but she didn't back down, well aware he was enjoying having her at such a complete disadvantage. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be in New York?" He was the leader of Raphael's Seven, a tight-knit group of vampires and angels who protected Raphael - even against threats he might not yet see.
Elena was deathly certain that Dmitri would execute her with ice-cold precision should he come to consider her too big a chink in Raphael's armor. Raphael might kill the vampire for it, but as Dmitri had once said to her - she'd still be dead. "Surely some little groupie's crying her heart out over you." She couldn't help but think of that night in the vampire wing of the Tower - Dmitri's head bending over the supple neck of a ripely curved blonde whose pleasure had scented the air in a sensual perfume.
"You break my heart." An insincere smile, the amusement of a vampire so old, his age was a heavy weight on her bones. "If you're not careful, I'm going to start thinking you don't like me." Stripping off his thin linen shirt without blinking - and there was snow on the ground up here for crissakes - he went to the top button of his pants.
"You planning to die today?" she asked conversationally. Because Raphael would rip out Dmitri's heart if the vampire touched her. Of course, it'd be hard for the archangel to do that - she'd have already cut it out. Dmitri might be able to taunt her body to keening need with that scent of his, but Elena wasn't about to be compelled. Not by this vampire.
And not by the man he called sire.
"It's a big pool." He pulled off his pants.
She caught a glimpse of one sleekly muscled flank before she closed her eyes. Well, she thought, conscious of the heat blazing across her cheeks, at least that cleared up all doubts as to his coloring - Dmitri wasn't tanned. The exotic honey of his skin was inborn
. . . and flawless.
A wash of water that announced his entry into the pool. "You can look now, hunter."
Pure mockery.
"Why would I want to?" Opening her eyes, she turned her gaze toward the breathtaking mountain vista instead. Hunters weren't prudes, but Elena chose her friends with care.
And when it came to people she was comfortable being na**d with - being vulnerable with - that list was even shorter. Dmitri was in no way, shape, or form in that group.
As she focused on the snow-capped peaks in the distance, she kept an eye on him with her peripheral vision. Not that she'd survive him if he came after her, not given her current physical state, but that was no reason to make herself an easy target.Fur and diamonds, sex and pleasure. The scents wrapped around her, a thousand silken ropes, but they were muted. It was his gaze that worried her right then - that of a predator sizing up prey.
It took almost a minute before he shrugged and dropped back his head, his arms braced on the rocky edge of the natural pool. He was, she was forced to admit as she glanced back, sexy as the most wicked of indulgences. Dark eyes, dark hair, a mouth that promised pain and pleasure in equal measures. But she felt nothing beyond a reluctant female appreciation. Blue was her addiction and her salvation.
A tendril of darkest chocolate wrapped around her.
Rich. Compelling. In no way muted.
She hissed through her teeth. "Turn it off." Her body grew tight, her br**sts swelling with a need as raw as it was unwanted.
"I'm relaxing." Irritation coated in masculine arrogance - not exactly surprising given who Dmitri called sire. "I can't do that if I have to control an integral part of my body."
Before Elena could reply to an assertion she wasn't sure she believed, a feather of heavenly blue edged in silver floated into the water in front of her. It reminded her of another day, another feather, Raphael's hand opening to drop silver blue dust to the ground as possession glittered in his eyes. Using the memory to fight the sensual impact of Dmitri's scent, she focused on the distinctive sound of wings settling behind her.