Archangel's Consort (32 page)

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Authors: Nalini Singh

BOOK: Archangel's Consort
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She snorted. “Angels spend that time at the Refuge because they’re literally babies. I’m very much an adult.”
“Are you certain?” A cold question. “Attempting to break bones making a landing you couldn’t hope to realize sounds like something a five-year-old would do.”
Changing position so that she sat with both legs hanging over the branch, her wings spread out behind her for balance, she curled her fingers around the living wood in an effort to calm herself. “You know something, Raphael?” she said, fingernails digging into the bark, “I think you’re spoiling for a fight.”
No words from the immortal in front of her, his face so austere she could almost believe they’d never loved, never laughed together.
“So,” she said, leaning forward, “am I.”
A glow around his wings, something she’d learned to expect when he was pissed. She held her ground. Because this was who he was, and she either took all of him or she walked away. The latter was not an option.
“You’re going home. I’ll call Illium to guide you there.”
“No more babysitters,” she said, her anger a honed blade. “I won’t allow it. Neither am I about to toddle off home like a good little girl.”
You will do as I say.
“Yeah, how’s that working for you so far?”
Shifting forward, he braced his hands on the branch on either side of her, his big body pushing between her thighs.
You obey very sweetly.
Oooh, she thought, he didn’t only want a fight, he wanted a
fight
. “I am,” she said, trying to remain rational, “one of the strongest hunters in the Guild. Not only that, I survived an archangel and a psycho-would-be-archangel. I’ve earned my stripes.”
Anoushka almost killed you.
She thought of the poison Neha’s daughter had pumped into her body, of the panic that had made her heart stutter, her blood run cold. “Do you know how many people have ‘almost’ killed me over the years?” When his eyes iced over with a blue so pure it was unlike any color seen on this earth, she realized that might not have been the best thing to bring up. Then again ... “I take you as you are,” she said, unwilling—unable—to back down. “I do that.”
 
 
The fierce intensity of that statement cut through the
storm of fury riding Raphael, and he heard her, heard, too, the words she didn’t say.
I take you as you are. Take me as I am.
“I’ve never seen you as anything but a warrior.” Even when she came into his arms, he never forgot that it was a very conscious surrender on her part, a choice she made to let herself be vulnerable.
Her lips tightened, and she shook her head, the fine strands of her hair sliding wild over her shoulders. “It’s not enough, Raphael. Just the words aren’t enough.”
In the Refuge, she’d asked him to stop shadowing her mind. That had been a difficult choice for an archangel to make when keeping a mental watch on her was the best way he had to ensure her safety. “I have given you unparalleled freedom.”
“Who are you comparing us with, Archangel?” she asked, watching him with those pale eyes that glimmered witch-bright in the darkness.
A sign of her growing immortality, he realized, wondering if she’d noticed an improvement in her night-vision yet. That would be a trait a hunter would value—for the kiss of immortality could only build on the bones of what was already present.
“We’re making our own rules,” she continued. “There is no template for us to follow.”
His mind flashed to her broken in his arms, her life bleeding out of her a drop at a time. Then had come the silence. Endless, merciless silence as she slept. “Elijah and Hannah have been together hundreds of years,” he said. “She follows his lead.”
A shaky smile from his hunter with her mortal heart. “Is that what you truly want?” It was a husky whisper.
He knew then that he could hurt her terribly at this moment. Like her father, he could tell her that she wasn’t what she should be, that who and what she was, was a cause for shame. In doing so, he’d hit at her biggest vulnerability and win this war between them.
He was an archangel. He’d made ruthless decision after ruthless decision.
“No,” he said, for she was exactly who she should be. His mate, his consort. “But it would be easier if you were like Hannah.”
A laugh that sounded wet. “And it would be easier if you followed my every command.”
They looked at each other for a long, long moment ... then Raphael reached forward, cupped her cheek. “I will give you your freedom,” he said, fighting every instinct he had, “on one condition.”
Lines formed between her brows. “What condition?”
“Do you not trust me, hunter?”
“Not a bit, not when you’re trying to get your own way.” But she leaned her cheek into his touch, stroking her own fingers through his hair.
He shifted his grip to her jaw, firmed his hold. “You will call me. No hesitations, no thinking, no waiting until the last possible moment. If you’re in danger,
you will call me
.”
“Within reason,” she bargained. “A vamp hopped up on bloodlust coming after me is a different case from a power-crazed angel.”
“I’m not used to negotiating.” Most people gave him everything he demanded.
A slow, slow smile that melted away the lingering tendrils of the cold rage within him. “I guess the next several hundred years are going to be an education then, huh?”
He could not help it. He kissed her, took that warmth, that laughter inside of him, where it could warm him, too.
You tease an archangel at your peril.
Strong arms around his neck, fingers playing over the arches of his wings.
I dunno, I kinda like what it gets me.
Her lips parted beneath his, and he surged in, claiming her with a hunger that no longer startled him. It was as if the bond between them grew ever deeper with every hour that passed.
You will call me.
Within reason.
He considered it, smiled in satisfaction.
Very well. But you will explain each and every injury each time you do not call me.
Breaking the openmouthed intimacy of the kiss, she glared at him. “That is a ridiculous stipulation for a hunter!”
He put his arms around her and pulled her off the branch, using his power and strength to take them high up into the star-studded skies.
“Raphael,” she said when he released her far above the night clouds, “I’m serious. You can’t expect me to, to—”
He shifted direction. “Answer to me?”
“Yes!” she said, changing her angle of flight to follow.
“And am I not answerable to my consort?”
The words Elena had been about to say died in her throat. “Well,” she murmured, letting him catch her around the waist, “if you put it like that, I can’t exactly argue, can I?” It was an unexpected, breath-stealing gift, his open acceptance of her claim.
Blue fire licked in his eyes, his mouth brushing over hers in tiny, teasing bites.
Then, will you dance with me, Elena?
She felt her eyes widen, her stomach fill with butterflies. “Now? Here?”
Raphael’s hands played over her ribs, his thumbs brushing the lower curves of her breasts.
Now. Here.
“But—” The air left her throat as he bit at her lower lip at the same time that he rolled one of her nipples through the fabric of her tank.
Wait. Wait.
She had to ask him something before her brain turned to mush.
Rain and wind around her, fresh and wild and open, the archangel’s hand closing with open possession over her breast.
I do not wish to wait.
26
 
God, she was sunk, putty in his hands. Only her discom
fort at the question circling in her mind gave her the will to break the kiss, to suck in a breath . . . while the angel dipped his head to close his teeth over the frantically beating pulse in her neck.
“Surveillance!” she blurted out. “There are satellites everywhere! Won’t someone see?” She was too private, too possessive, to share this moment with anyone.
One hand stroking down over her back, to her bottom.
I am an archangel, Elena. I have enough power to blow out every satellite in the world.
“That’s not what I—” She cried out as he bit down on her pulse then licked the small sensual hurt, her hands fisting in the thick silk of his hair.
No one will see us.
A kiss that took over her mouth.
I used my power to shield us from view as soon as we flew out of Manhattan.
She bit down on his lip this time. “Thanks for telling me.”
One strong hand clenched on her hip. “Biting is not nice, Elena.”
Oh, dear God.
When he started teasing . . . Forget about the putty. She was melting into a big old pile of goo. Pushing away in self-defense, she tried valiantly to hover and failed. But she managed to turn her drop into a sweep that drew up into a vertical climb.
Show me how angels dance, Raphael.
A second later, he was there with her, his body spiraling around her own as she climbed, his speed and agility so stunning that everything female in her resonated in response. Mine, she thought, this magnificent creature with his wings of gold and eyes of relentless blue is mine.
A shimmer in her peripheral vision and then ... sex. Pure sex and temptation and passion on her tongue.
Dusting me again, Archangel?
Licking the delicious, decadent taste of Raphael’s special blend of angel-dust off her lips, she flew through the fine, fine particles, feeling the wicked caress of it cover every exposed inch of her body—including her wings.
Next time, I will do it when you are clothed in nothing but skin.
She clenched her thighs at the sensual impact of that image. It would drive her mad, she thought, that level of sensation. But she’d always known that loving an archangel would be no easy matter. Smiling, she dropped without warning, simply folding her wings and plummeting to the earth.
She flared them out again at the midpoint, sweeping away in a different direction. Raphael was nowhere to be seen. Feeling smug at having evaded him, she was startled to see angel-dust raining down around her, streaking the night sky in shimmers of brilliant gold. Pushing back her hair, she glanced over her shoulder.
Her archangel was flying perfectly above her, his wings bigger, a midnight shadow over her body.
Not fair
, she complained.
You’ve had a millennium and a half to learn these tricks.
She tugged at the neck of her tank top, suddenly far too hot as the angel-dust worked its way through the material and into her pores to her bloodstream, the erotic kiss of it concentrated on the pulse between her thighs.
A light touch at her neck and the tank, then the sleeves, literally fell apart in her hands. “Raphael!”
I can’t go about having my clothes scattered all over the state!
Even as she spoke, she saw tiny flickers of blue light up the night and realized he’d destroyed the fragments of her clothing. But that wasn’t at the forefront of her mind. It was the fact that she was nude above the waist. It made her feel painfully vulnerable.
No one can see, Elena. I promise you this.
Only Raphael could’ve made her believe that, made her trust. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the arms she’d crossed over her chest and looked around. She had no idea where they were, but it was pitch-dark below, so dark that it had to be—“The sea.” While they’d been flying above the clouds, Raphael had taken them out into the Atlantic, so far out that no matter which direction she turned, she couldn’t see any sign of light, of human civilization.
Exhilaration burst through her bloodstream, and she thought, what the hell.
Do your magic, Archangel.
She kicked off her shoes, somehow managed to get off her pants and underwear—though her flight path probably looked like that of a drunken bumblebee. Her clothing disappeared in flashes of blue, her skin sighing at the release. Flaring out her wings to their greatest width, she gave in to the hunger inside of her and rode the air currents with an untamed, open joy.
She’d never felt as carefree.
Raphael winged over her, slow and easy, almost lazily, and she got the feeling he was letting her play. It made her lips kick upward ... and then she tasted the angel-dust glittering in the air.
Pure sex.
The damn sneaky archangel had flown circles around her, until there was nowhere she could go to escape the exotic, aphrodisiac stuff.
You realize this is war
? she said, licking the dust off her lips, vividly conscious of it caressing every secret corner of her body.
No answer.
Her instincts kicked in.
Utilizing her recent flight training, she did a hard turn to her left and went up. Raphael shot by a bare millisecond later, missing her by a fraction of a feather. As he caught himself and turned to head back up, she swept right ... diving just when he’d come too far to stop. But this was an archangel she played with. He managed to run his fingers over her wings in teasing promise as she plummeted.

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