An hour later, Elena tugged at the restraints locking her arms to the chair. All she succeeded in doing was tightening the ropes around her ankles. Hog-tied. She was hog-tied! Her arms had been wrenched behind her back and tied, then the rope run down to wrap securely around one ankle, before crossing over to her other ankle. The final touch had been to take the rope back up to her wrists and around her waist to the back. She was effectively chained to a heavy chair that she had no hope of tipping over.
"I can smell blood, Elena," Dmitri drawled, walking back into the room. "Are you trying to flirt?"
She glared at him, recalling exactly how much fun he'd had divesting her of her weapons. He hadn't been crass. No, he'd been sensuality personified, that damn drugging scent of his snaking through her body like the most potent aphrodisiac on the planet. She'd still managed to get in some kicks-before being bound, having her cuts disinfected, and parked in what looked like a small sitting room somewhere in the higher levels of the Tower. "How's Raphael?"
Dmitri came to stand in front of her, having taken off his charcoal suit jacket and dark red tie to reveal a crisp white shirt. The top few buttons were open, exposing a delicious triangle of bronze skin. Not a tan, she thought. He was clearly from somewhere with a hotter sun, somewhere exotic and-"Stop it!" Now that she was concentrating, she could distinguish the faint scent he was stroking over every inch of her skin.
He smiled and there was a promise of pain in that smile. "I wasn't focusing anything on you."
"Liar."
"I confess." He came even closer, bending down to brace his hands on the arms of the chair. "You're very sensitive to my scent." He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath. "Even sweaty and bloody, you have a unique scent of your own. It makes me want to take a big, greedy bite."
"Not in this lifetime," she said, voice husky with the strength of will it was taking to resist his slow seduction.
She'd misjudged Dmitri because he didn't leak power like the other old ones she'd met, which meant he was in a class of his own . . . and probably more than capable of throwing off the effects of a control chip.
That was a secret hunters had died to protect-because sometimes, a vampire's second-long disorientation, his belief that he'd been tagged and immobilized, was all you had. In that second, you could escape or do actual damage. "Why are you fixated on me?" she asked bluntly, burying her knowledge of the chip's fatal flaw. As far as she knew, only angels could read minds-and they had no reason to sabotage the effectiveness of a hunter's most powerful weapon-but she wasn't taking any chances. "You're so fucking sexy"-damn it, it was true-"you've got to have women throwing themselves at you. Why me?"
"I told you-you make things interesting." His lips curved but the bloody spikes in his eyes reminded her he wasn't exactly happy with her right then. "You'll live, you know."
"I will?"
"At least until you complete the job." He stared at her.
She stared back. Dmitri very likely knew every detail of the job, but if he didn't, she wasn't going to spill the beans and dig her grave even deeper. "You can't imagine how much pleasure that gives me."
"What do you know about pleasure, Guild Hunter?" His tone turned blade sharp, his skin almost glowing from within.
Her throat dried up as she realized she'd been wrong again. Dmitri wasn't only powerful, he was powerful. So old that now he wasn't concealing it, the age of him made her bones ache. "I know that what you promise as pleasure will lead inexorably to pain."
He blinked, his lashes incongruously long. "But with a master of the art, all pain is pleasure."
Shivers raked up her spine, brushed across her nipples. "No, thanks."
"The decision is no longer up to you." He rose to his full height. "Are you hungry?"
Startled by the pragmatic question, she shook off the drugging aftereffects of his scent, and took a moment to think. "I'm starving."
"Then you'll be fed."
Scowling at the way he'd phrased that, she said nothing as he disappeared out the door, only to return several minutes later with a covered plate. When he removed the lid, she found herself looking at what appeared to be a dinner of grilled fish in some kind of white sauce, teamed with lightly sauteed vegetables and baby potatoes. Her mouth watered. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." He grabbed another chair and moved it opposite her without effort, though it was the twin of the one she sat in, unable even to tilt. "What would you like first?"
She set her jaw. "I am not letting you feed me."
He speared a piece of carrot. "The men who accompanied me to your apartment-do you know who they were?"
She kept her mouth shut, not trusting him not to shove food at her while her guard was down.
"Members of the Seven," he said, answering his own question. "Those vampires and angels who protect Raphael with no thought to our own advancement."
Curiosity was a flame inside her, enough for her to speak. "Why?"
"That's for us to know." He ate the carrot with every appearance of enjoyment. While vampires couldn't gain sustenance from such food, she knew they could digest a certain amount without problem. It was why most low-level vamps were able to pass for human. "What you need to know is that we'll get rid of anything, and anyone, who poses a threat to him, even if it means we forfeit our own lives."
"And that's supposed to make me feel happy about you shoving a fork in my direction?"
He scooped up a piece of the fish, making sure to coat it with the sauce, which looked tauntingly delicious. "Until Raphael wakes, I'm constrained against hurting you. He gave me a direct order not to. The others aren't subject to such orders. I hand them this fork and walk out that door, and you'll understand a whole new meaning to the word 'pain.' "
She blew out a breath. "Free my hands at least-you know I can't hurt you without weapons."
"I do that, you're dead." He lifted the fork toward her mouth. "You're alive right now because I'm keeping the others from you. If they think you can manipulate me . . ."
She didn't trust him an inch. But she was starving and she was a hunter-she knew a hunger strike would achieve nothing while weakening her. She opened her mouth. The fish was as delicious as it looked. But she held it in her mouth for almost a minute, tasting carefully. Only when she was satisfied it was clean, did she swallow. "No narcotics?"
"Unnecessary. It's not like you can fly." He fed her a bite of potato. "And Raphael will want to see you as soon as he wakes."
"His wings?"
Dmitri raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you care."
She couldn't see any point in lying. "I do. I only meant to get away from him-he was acting really weird." She ate. "I mean, he's immortal. It should've just given me enough time to get a head start."
"True." He fed her another forkful, sliding out the tines more slowly than was warranted. When she narrowed her eyes, he gave her that cool, dangerous smile that never reached his eyes. "Which is why you've just gone from hunter to the number one threat to angels."
"Oh, please." She shook her head when he offered her broccoli. Smiling, he ate it, then fed her a forkful of peas instead. She ate, thought it over. "That kind of a gun's been used before." It couldn't be a secret, not if it had been fired against angels.
"Yes. We know of it. It causes temporary damage." He shrugged. "The archangels apparently find it a fair weapon, given that humans have few other ways to combat angels who get too pushy."
"Maybe it was a bad angle," she murmured. "Did I hit a major artery or something?" She knew all about vampire biology, but angels were another matter altogether. "Enough," she said when he offered her another bite.
He put down the fork. "You'll have to ask Raphael those questions-if you still have your tongue, of course." Getting up, he disappeared a second time, returning with a bottle of water.
After drinking and managing not to dribble, she looked at him again. Still darkly sexy, still an inch away from ripping out her throat. "Thanks."
His answer was to lay one finger against the pulse in her neck. "So strong, rich and sweetly potent. I look forward to my own dinner-too bad it's not you."
Then he was gone.
Elena watched the door with absolute focus as she began twisting in her chair, determined to get out of the ropes. Dmitri was protecting her against the others right now, but who knew how long that would last.
The only problem was, the ropes had been tied by an apparent master.
But with a master of the art, all pain is pleasure.
Bondage, that figured. Dmitri probably liked to tie his women up in all sorts of interesting positions. Her face flushed. She didn't want him-not when he wasn't throwing out that damn scent like a lure. But she melted the instant he turned on that talent of his.
She didn't like melting against her own will.
Not even for an archangel.
Her jaw clenched at the memory of what had taken place in Raphael's office. Now that she'd shot him, she felt a bit better about the whole incident. Like she'd evened the score. Of course, he probably took a dimmer view of the whole affair. He'd only tried to get her in bed-and try as she might to convince herself otherwise, she'd enjoyed the seduction . . . at least until it got to the mind-control part. In return, she might've crippled him.
Dear God, she'd destroyed half his wing.
Her eyes smarted and she realized she was horrifically close to tears. Blinking rapidly, she banished the unwelcome emotion. Hunters didn't cry. Not even for an archangel. But-what if he didn't recover?
Her guilt twisted into a heavy knot in her stomach, getting tighter and hotter and more destructive with every passing second. She had to get to him, see for herself how he was doing. "No hope in hell," she muttered, knowing that if she'd been in Dmitri's position, she'd have done the exact same thing in isolating the possible threat.
Arms straining and calf muscles aching, she gave up trying to undo the bonds and relaxed into the chair. She wasn't going to be able to sleep but she could try to rest enough that when Raphael woke and the showdown began, she'd be ready. But just as her muscles began to loosen, she remembered the gaping hole in her apartment wall. "Dmitri!"
He appeared a minute later and, from the look on his face, he was in no way pleased. "You called, my lady?" Had the words been any sharper, they would've drawn blood.
Blood.
Was she trying to get herself killed? "I interrupted your . . . dinner. I'm sorry."
He smiled, revealing no hint of the fangs she knew were there. "Are you offering yourself in reparation?"
"I want to know about my apartment-the wall, did you close it off?"
"Why should we?" He shrugged and turned away. "It's only a human dwelling."
"You piece of-"
He snapped around, face different, lethal, unearthly. "I'm hungry, Elena. Don't make me break my word to Raphael."
"You wouldn't."
"Push me and I will. I'll get punished, but you'll still be dead." Then he was gone.
Leaving her alone with a racing heartbeat and a lancing pain in her heart. Her home, her haven, her damn nest was being destroyed right this second by the wind, dust, and rain if the heavens opened. It made her want to curl up and bawl her eyes out.
It wasn't the individual things in the apartment that she worried about, it was the place itself. Home. She hadn't had one for a very long time-after her father had thrown her out, she'd been forced to bunk permanently at Guild Academy. There was nothing wrong with the facility, but it wasn't home. Then she and Sara had finished their training and shared an apartment for a while. That had been a home, a welcome one, but it hadn't been hers. But the apartment, it was hers in every way.
A single tear streaked down her face. "I'm sorry," she said, telling herself she was talking to her ruined home. But the truth was, she was speaking to an archangel. "I never meant to hurt you."
A cool sea breeze in her mind. Then why were you carrying a gun?
