Angels' Blood 1 by Nalini Singh

Author:Nalini Singh
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: katie
ISBN: 9780575095724
Publisher: Orion Books Limited
Published: 2010-09-15T01:21:04+00:00

“My job mostly involves tracking the under-hundred crowd—I don’t come into a lot of contact with that many really old vamps. Not enough to have long conversations with, anyway,” she told him, finishing off her orange juice. “What do you consider just-Made?”

“Two hundred years or so.” He shrugged, the gesture very human. “I’ve heard of no conceptions or impregnations after that point.”

Two hundred years.

Twice her lifetime. And Dmitri spoke of it as if it were nothing. So, how old was he? And how old was the man he called sire? “Does it sadden you? Knowing you’ll never have children?”

A shadow passed over his face. “I didn’t say I’d never been a father.”

Raphael’s return saved her from choking on the foot in her mouth. Somehow she knew to look up, to see the fantasy of his wings backlit to glowing life by the sun. “Beautiful.” A whisper.

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“So, he has enthralled you.”

She forced herself to look away and toward Dmitri. “Jealous?”

“No. I have no need for Raphael’s leavings.”

She narrowed her eyes, but he wasn’t done.

“You can hardly sit in judgment on those who prefer vampire lovers now.” A curl of scent snaked around her, insidious in its seduction. “Not when you wear Raphael’s colors in your skin.”

She’d forgotten about the damn dust. Raising her hand, she rubbed at her face. Her fingers came back shimmering white gold. The temptation to bring those fingers to her lips and lick was so strong, she had to force her hands down to clutch at her thighs. The dust left streaks against the black material, glittering trails of accusation. Dmitri was right—she’d well and truly fallen.

But that didn’t mean she was going to offer herself up to this vampire, no matter the sex and sin taste of him. “Stop, or I’ll extract your canines while you sleep,” she said under her breath. “I mean it, Dmitri.”

The scent twisted around her body, infiltrating her very veins. “So sensitive, Elena, so exquisitely sensitive. You must’ve been exposed to our beauty very young.” There was anger in his tone then, as if the idea repulsed him. “Who?” He vanished the tendril of scent.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Come here, little hunter. Taste.

Her stomach revolted. She’d forgotten his scent, buried the memory of the shameful rush of heat between her legs, the incomprehension in her child’s mind. “He’s dead,” she whispered, eyes on Raphael as he landed on the edge and began walking toward her.

“Did you kill him?”

“Would you hurt me if I had?”

“No. I may be a monster,” he said, his voice strangely gentle, “but I’m not a monster who preys on children.”

They both went silent as Raphael approached. Terror kicked in her chest as she truly saw him—he was glowing, bathed in that white-hot overflow of energy that promised death. She pushed back her chair, stood.

But she left the knife in her boot. No need to antagonize him if the rage wasn’t directed at her. “Raphael,”

she said as he came to stand on the other side of the table.

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