Angels' Blood by Nalini Singh Read Free Book Online

two—that Raphael had been playing with her mind and telling her otherwise was simply some sort of a twisted way for him to mess with her.
    The annoying little voice inside her head kept whispering that that kind of manipulation didn’t mesh with what she knew of Raphael. On the roof, he’d made no secret of the fact that he’d been in her mind. Lying seemed beneath him. “Hah!” she said to the voice. “What I know about him isn’t enough to fill a thimble—he’s manipulated mortals for centuries. He’s good at it.” Not good. Expert.
    And she was now in his hands.
    Unless he’d changed his mind in the hours since she’d hauled ass from the duck pond. Her mood brightened. Reaching over to open up the laptop on the coffee table, she booted it up and used her wireless Internet connection to look up her Guild account. The transaction history showed one recent deposit.
    “Too many zeros.” She took a deep breath. Counted again. “Still too many.”
    So many that it made Mr. Ebose’s substantial payment look like chump change.
    Hands sweat-damp, she swallowed and scrolled down. The payment had come from “Archangel Tower: Manhattan.” She’d known that. Obviously, she’d known that. But seeing it in black and white was a jolt to the system. The deal was done. She was now officially working for Raphael. And only Raphael.
    Her Guild status had been changed from “Active” to “Contracted: Indefinite Period.”
    Closing the laptop, she stared out at the Tower. She couldn’t believe she’d stood on top of that cloud-piercing building only that morning, couldn’t believe she’d dared disagree with an archangel, but most of all, she couldn’t believe what Raphael wanted her to do. Thousands of tiny little creatures skittered about in her stomach, inciting nausea, panic . . . and a strange, vibrant excitement. This was the kind of job that made legends out of hunters. Of course, to be a legend, you generally had to be dead.
    The phone rang, blessedly ending that particular line of thought. “What?”
    “Good day to you, too, sunshine,” came Sara’s cheerful voice.
    Elena wasn’t fooled. Her friend hadn’t made it to the position of Guild Director by being Ms. Congeniality. Nerves of steel and a will like a bull terrier more like it. “I can’t tell you anything,” she said bluntly. “Don’t even ask.”
    “Come on, Ellie. You know I can keep a secret.”
    “No. If I tell you, you die.” Raphael had made that very clear before he’d let her leave Central Park.
    Tell anyone—man, woman, or child—and we’ll eliminate them. No exceptions.
    Sara snorted. “Don’t be melodramatic. I’m—”
    “He knew you’d ask,” she said, remembering what else the Archangel of New York had said to her in that deceptively easy tone. A naked blade sheathed in velvet, that was Raphael’s voice.
    “Oh?”
    “If I tell you, he won’t only take you and Deacon out, he’ll do the same to Zoe.”
    The fury that crackled through the line was pure maternal protectiveness. “Bastard.”
    “Totally agree.”
    Sara seemed to be fuming too hard to speak for several long seconds. “The fact that he made that threat means this is big.”
    “You saw the deposit?”
    “Hell, did I see the deposit! I thought the accountant had screwed up and deposited the whole thing into our account instead of just the Guild percentage.” She blew out a breath. “Baby girl, that’s some kind of cash.”
    “I don’t want it.” She was choking on the need to share the sheer incomprehensibility of the task with Sara, with that idiot Ransom, but she couldn’t. “He’s already cut me off from my best friends.” Her hand fisted.
    “Let him try,” Sara said. “So you can’t tell me the details. Big deal. I’ll figure it out soon enough. I have some idea.”
    Excitement danced up Elena’s spine. “You do?”
    “Killer vampire?” She paused. “Okay, you can’t answer but seriously, what else could it be?”
    Elena